Remembrance of the Past

by Lory Lilian

  Since the day he miraculously met her in Hyde Park, a breeze of liveliness swept over him, and his dreams began again, as different as his feelings for her were different. From that moment on, even in his dreams, he never simply grabbed her in his arms or covered her lips with violent, passionate kisses; instead, he dreamt not of fulfilling his desires or wishes, but hers. He used to imagine that she desired to be kissed, embraced and caressed by him, that she wished to be taken away by him and carried far from everyone and everything she knew. At Pemberley, his dreams seemed finally to come to life!

  And tomorrow…he would do nothing but what he could be certain she desired.

  When Darcy finally fell asleep, Elizabeth’s fingers combed through his hair, caressed his forehead, moved slowly along the line of his jaw, and then returned to brush against his lips. The sensation was so real and powerful that he sighed, and his sleep deepened into blissful contentment.

  ***

  Alone in her room, long after dinner , Elizabeth wondered when Mr. Bingley would finally propose to Jane and how on earth she would be able to bear her sister’s enthusiasm until the long-desired wedding. Not for a moment had Elizabeth imagined that her dear, sweet, Jane would became a tiresome burden for her—yet that was what had occurred since the moment the guests left Longbourn. She opened the window widely to allow the August night’s breezes to enter her room. Not only that, but the open window made her feel she was somehow closer to a certain apartment in the guest wing at Netherfield. They would meet tomorrow morning; for the first time in more than a month, Elizabeth was able to sleep soundly but was afraid to do so, wary that she would not wake up early. However, her fatigue defeated her determination, and she fell into a deep, restful sleep.

  She woke as dawn appeared, but to no avail; it was raining—a wild summer rain that made any morning walk impossible. She went to the window, furious and helpless, looking over the fields as though she might see something, but the raindrops hit her face and mixed with tears of disappointment and frustration. When she finally withdrew her head and returned to bed, her hair and nightgown were soaked, and her hopes for the day were completely ruined. She could do nothing but wait.

  ***

  As thunder and lightning invaded Darcy’s suite, he abruptly woke, unable to control his anger at the sight of rain. Rain? How was that possible? Precisely that morning? Could his plans be delayed again?

  After a few moments of pacing around the room, he tried to regain his composure. Surely, he could not be angry at the weather; that was absurd. He could not command the rain to stop falling just so he could meet Elizabeth in the grove, but he allowed himself to be furious and frustrated. He had put all his hopes into their meeting, if only for the pleasure of talking to her unrestrained, maybe holding her hand for a few moments and nothing more, but he was forced to wait; there was nothing else to do.

  A couple of hours later, the rain seemed to lose its power, and the sun moved shyly from behind the clouds. Darcy suddenly became more animated, inquiring about his friend’s intention of calling at Longbourn and his mode of transportation—whether he intended to go on horseback or take the carriage. Bingley had no time to answer before Lady Cassandra entered the room asking for a few private moments.

  “Sir, since the weather seems to have improved, I would like to ask your permission to invite Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth to join me for tea here at Netherfield later today.”

  “Your ladyship has my permission to do anything she pleases.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she answered with a friendly smile.

  “However,” he whispered to her in secret, “I am not certain that will be possible today. You know, I planned to call at Longbourn later, as we promised, and I wanted to speak privately to Miss Bennet.”

  “Yes, I am aware of that,” she whispered. “But Longbourn, though very charming, is quite crowded, would you not agree? Netherfield seems more appropriate for private talks.”

  Bingley looked at her with an expression of deep gratitude, and Lady Cassandra burst out laughing. “I shall write Miss Bennet a note; I am sure Mrs. Bennet will forgive you for breaking your promise to call again today.”

  ***

  “Charles, there is something I would like to discuss with you,” demanded Mrs. Hurst half an hour later. “I understand you intend to visit Longbourn today, and I thought perhaps I should join you.”

  “Yes, perhaps…But then again, perhaps not. I know how daunting a task it has always been for you to be in the Bennets’ company, and I would not want to expose you to such agony.”

  “That is not true. I have always loved dearest Jane; she is such a sweet person. If not for her poor connections and disastrous family—

  “Precisely; I would not have you bear her disastrous family until it is absolutely necessary.” Bingley moved toward the window to join Darcy in his preoccupation with the weather.

  “Charles, what do you mean? What will be absolutely necessary? I do not understand you! I demand an explanation,” she cried, her voice rising higher.

  “The rain has stopped,” Darcy announced soundly. “I need some fresh air.” Before Bingley was able to inquire, the door closed behind him.

  Shortly after, Mrs. Hurst left the library to conceal her frustration in the solitude of her room, hastening to write a letter to her sister in London to ask her help against their stubborn brother.

  However, she had little hope that Caroline would join them in the next few days. She had just received an express letter the night before; it contained the detailed description of a party hosted by Lady Sophia where Caroline had enjoyed a wonderful time and had met Lord Markham, a wealthy and handsome viscount who appeared to be interested in her. Furthermore, Caroline had mentioned she was invited to the opera the next evening and then to a private ball where only Lady Sophia’s closest friends would join them.

  Indeed, Mrs. Hurst could not count on her younger sister’s support. If only she would manage to secure the viscount and compensate for Charles’s infatuation with the insignificant Jane Bennet.

  ***

  The clouds had vanished by the time Elizabeth reached the grove, and with each step, her heart raced more wildly. Her common sense told her she was behaving childishly; she should not expect that Mr. Darcy would be there so many hours after their arranged appointment.

  Yet, again, her heart won over her reason, and her hope became utter happiness when she saw Darcy descend from his horse and slowly walk toward her.

  Their eyes met long before he finally stopped a few inches from her.

  “Mr. Darcy…what a wonderful surprise…” Her voice sounded barely audible even to herself.

  “Miss Bennet—I did not expect to see you here at this hour.”

  She struggled to smile back, desperately trying to think of something—anything—to say, but all she could do was remain still, staring into his eyes and wondering what would be the use of mere words.

  “No, that is not true,” he continued as he moved a step closer. If he comes any nearer, she thought, there will be no space left between us.

  “Miss Bennet, I did expect to see you here. In fact, I came here with the express hope of seeing you. I know I had no right to expect such a thing, I am aware of that, but somehow…I came here as soon as the rain stopped, hoping to meet you,” he repeated, his dark gaze burrowing into her soul.

  “I came here hoping to see you, too,” she whispered, wondering if he heard her. Indeed, he had heard her; the immediate change of his countenance and his fingers daringly taking her hands proved that. Her own fingers instantly entwined with his as had happened their last night at Pemberley. He smiled, showing her that he remembered.

  “I was so angry with the rain this morning,” he continued while lifting their joined hands to his chest. I was tempted to come through the rain.”

  “So was I,” she replied; her nervousness made her knees weak. He was so close that his scent intoxicated her. “But I restrained myself, as I could easily imagine
the picture I would present to you after walking in the rain all the way up here,” she laughed, forcing herself to breathe normally.

  “I remember that picture,” he answered, his voice low, his head leaning to whisper in her ear. “I remember the picture of you in the rain, and I can testify it was most wonderful.”

  A wave of cold chills shook her body; he felt her quiver and withdrew a few inches to look at her, still not releasing her hands. Unconsciously, she moved a step forward to maintain their closeness. His hands suddenly released hers and, with tender care, his arms encircled her. She was ensnared close to his chest, crushed against his heart.

  With a will of their own, her arms shyly slid around his waist and, though she knew it was the silliest thing she had ever done and was embarrassed that she was making a fool of herself, Elizabeth began to cry silently—not from sorrow, yet countless tears spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. How was it possible for her eyes to cry while her heart was dancing with delight?

  She thought she could not be happier but proved herself wrong when she felt his lips placing light kisses over her forehead just below her bonnet. He noticed her frown and stopped, afraid she was displeased with his gestures. And yes, she should have been displeased and should have separated from him instantly; that was what a proper lady would do. Instead, she withdrew her hands from around him and untied her bonnet, threw it at her feet, and embraced his waist again, placing her head against his chest and waited—afraid and eager—anticipating his touch.

  He did nothing, but his voice whispered her name, calling her “Elizabeth” with such tenderness, that it left her breathless. How was it possible that her name sounded so differently coming from him?

  She lifted her eyes to him; his head was already lowered toward her, and their faces almost touched—so when his lips brushed against hers, she was not even surprised. She had no time really to feel their first kiss before he withdrew and his eyes searched hers with worry and hope.

  “Elizabeth…were you crying?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, yet her voice sounded light and lively and her eyes were laughing at him.

  His thumbs gently wiped her tears away, and his lips followed them, tenderly touching her closed eyes and then travelling slowly down her face. When he reached the corner of her mouth, he stopped once more and looked at her soundly.

  “My beautiful, crying lady, we cannot go further without talking first. You have owed me a private conversation since the day you left Pemberley.”

  Her eyes saddened instantly as the smile vanished from her face. Her lips were trembling as she spoke. “That day…I was certain I would never see you again. While I waited for you to return, I received Jane’s letters…and after reading them, I was certain everything was lost forever.”

  His fingers were caressing her hair and his lips came to rest on the top of her head. This time she released those past pent-up tears from the remembrance of the last time they were together at Pemberley. He remained still, holding her silently until she calmed herself, and then he slowly moved with her in his arms, to an old stump she had sat on the previous day. He took his coat off, placed it down, and then sat and embraced her again.

  “That day, when I returned home and was told you had left, I have never felt so lost or in such despair. I was certain you had run away to avoid me—to avoid another proposal from me. I was convinced all my hopes and wishes had been in vain, that I had somehow grossly misunderstood your feelings once more, that you never wanted to accept me.”

  He paused, trying to regain some composure; she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

  “I looked for you in Lambton, I sent my men to inquire after you. Nobody could discover anything about your sudden departure. It was a stormy day, like today. I could not bear to see anybody, to listen to anybody, so I left. I left Pemberley and walked through the storm for hours. And I must confess to you that…I cried.”

  He stopped, and her heart almost stopped once more, pained and grieved by his past suffering as well as her own.

  “Several hours passed before I finally forced my mind to remember you—your smiles, your gestures and your fingers entwined with mine that night in your room, and I began to realise that you did not deceive me or run away from me. It began to dawn on me that something grave must have happened to take you away from Pemberley and from me. I had faith in you; I trusted in you and everything you told me or wordlessly showed me. But perhaps you had little faith in me? You must have known after that night in your room that I intended to propose to you the next day. Yet, you presumed I would not keep my word because of Wickham. Did you really imagine that, for fear of a scandal, I would throw away so easily my only chance for happiness?”

  Elizabeth withdrew from his embrace and looked at him. His handsome face, so tender, so light a few minutes before, had darkened into a frown, and his eyes avoided hers. She took her gloves off and, with her hands bare—shy and trembling—she touched his face and turned him gently to her.

  “Mr. Darcy, you did misunderstand my feelings and my actions after all. Could you not see, sir, that I left that day, not because I doubted you, but precisely because I trusted you implicitly? Yes, I confess I hoped you would propose to me that day, and I knew that you would not alter your intentions because of the scandal! That was the reason I had to leave! Can you not understand? It was not a mere elopement; it was Wickham, whose name you cannot bear to hear spoken in your presence, and whose name simply mentioned upsets Georgiana excessively. How could I allow you to propose under those circumstances? How could I have asked for your help, involving you and Georgiana in such a scandal? It was not only about preserving your good name, but about your peace of mind, your happiness and your future. So I had to leave without concern for my own broken heart. And I had to leave before your return, or I never would have been able to leave at all.”

  He did not answer; only his bare palms, mirroring hers, cupped her cheeks, and they remained so for what seemed like an eternity, simply drowning in each other’s eyes.

  “Elizabeth,” he finally whispered, “my peace of mind does not exist without you—I learned that long ago—and neither my happiness nor my future matter to me if I cannot share them with you. You must promise you will never leave me again, and I promise nothing will stop me from renewing my addresses to you again—or from convincing you to accept me.”

  Her laugh, nervous, still incredulous and hopeful, was mixed with tears that threatened to overwhelm her again.

  His head leaned closer to hers, and his lips rested upon her ear, whispering, “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. I love you as I never believed it possible for a man to love a woman. Now, only now do I truly know what ardent love means. Only now do I fully understand what a treasure my life with you can be and what it would mean to lose you. So now I am asking you again—

  Her fingers pressed his lips, forcing him to silence while her lips tentatively moved to his ear, brushing against it as she continued, “And now, Mr. Darcy, I have come to know and to love you so dearly that I will happily cry for you and laugh for you anytime you want, as long as we are together. Now, sir, I do not even need to hear the question as my answer is long prepared. And I am sure you do not need to hear my answer—

  “I do need to hear your answer,” he interrupted as his lips started to travel along the line of her jaw. “I do need to hear your answer, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

  “Then you shall have it, sir,” she replied as she murmured her acceptance against his hungry mouth. And she proved to be right; he did not need to hear the answer—at least not completely. A moment later, his lips captured hers and did not release them until he professed to her the depth and the ardour of his love.

  Not that she had any doubts remaining!

  Chapter 12

  The carriage stopped, and Mr. Bingley hurried to meet his guests. As he handed Jane Bennet out, her shining, blue eyes bewitched him so that he completely forgot the other Miss Bennet inside.


  It was fortunate that Elizabeth greeted him aloud and drew his attention back to his duties. He ushered them both inside, delighted to see Jane’s continuous blush and pleased to notice that only Lady Cassandra was in the drawing room to meet them.

  Elizabeth, however, could not hide her disappointment at not seeing Darcy. As if guessing her thoughts, Lady Cassandra smiled at her as she welcomed them warmly.

  “Darcy is still in his room preparing himself. He returned from an early ride less than an hour ago. I believe he did not notice it was time for your visit. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst are in their apartments, and Georgiana is resting, I believe.”

  “Yes, I really could not understand why Darcy went to ride in such weather; the roads must be horrible after that rain,” said Mr. Bingley as he invited them to take their places.

  Nervous but happy with the kind attention Mr. Bingley bestowed upon her and flattered by Lady Cassandra’s praises about her beauty, Jane intervened sweetly, willing to support the conversation.

  “Oh, I can understand Mr. Darcy’s fondness for riding. Lizzy possesses the same love for the outdoors—in fact, she had just returned from a walk shortly before we left Longbourn.”

  Elizabeth’s mortification turned her face and neck crimson; Mr. Bingley and Jane were too engaged in staring at each other to notice anyone else. Lady Cassandra’s wondering glaze rested upon Elizabeth a moment, and she struggled unsuccessfully to hide the enormous smile that tugged at her lips.