Love Calls Again Read online

  To his own annoyance, he proved his theory correct. As he had impulsively foreseen, the answer was immediate. He perceived some movements in the chamber and someone stumbling to the door. He heard his cousin's difficult breathing from behind while he lingered hesitantly leaning against it, followed by the clinking of the lock being opened.

  The sight was terrible. He was in a ghastly state. His beard had been left unattended for so long that he had to look twice before he recognised Darcy's features behind it. His dark eyes were sunken and gloomy, his clothes ragged and sweaty. And he smelled furiously of Brandy. Struggling to remain erect, swaying from side to side, Darcy babbled some incoherent words and then collapsed into his cousin's open arms. Richard had to fight an impulse to laugh at his state.

  "Come man. You have had enough brandy to get you drunk for the rest of your life, and mine too." He rested Darcy's arm over his shoulders and dragged him to the bed. Then he rang for Darcy's manservant, who appeared magically from behind the door.

  "Get someone to prepare his bath and come and help me undress him."

  "Yes sir," the man rushed to the door, and he almost bumped into Georgiana, who was peeking at them from outside the bedchamber, uncertain of what to do.

  "Is my brother truly ill?"

  Fitzwilliam rose in an attempt to cover Darcy's figure on the bed. He stalked forward and reaching the door, grabbed Georgiana's hand and took her farther away from the bedchamber entrance.

  "He is ill, but he shall recover. Please tell the household and especially Mrs Reynolds that everything is under control, but instruct them that under no circumstances should they approach this bedchamber. And that includes you as well, Sprout."

  Darcy's manservant re-entered the chamber with two other male servants tagging behind. The threesome commenced to prepare the hot bath and light the fire in the fireplace. Reluctantly, Georgiana went back into her steps and, sending a pitiful look to Fitzwilliam, turned round and disappeared into the corridor.

  Meanwhile Darcy had recovered from his semi-swooning state, and was babbling yet more incoherence.

  "What did you say?" Richard pressed him into talking, knowing only too well that the exertion would help him out of his inebriation.

  "Elizabeth?"

  "Do I look like Elizabeth?" Fitzwilliam cuffed him lightly.

  Darcy peeked in his direction, screwing up his face in blurred concentration. He closed one eye; there were only two of his cousins visible that way. "You two look like Fitzwilliam," he sighed, letting his head drop in resignation.

  "Darcy, you certainly are a sight!"

  "You are not Elizabeth. Leave me!"

  "Come on man, I have to get you out of these rags and sink you into the tub."

  Thereafter Fitzwilliam and Darcy's manservant commenced to undress the gentleman. The task proved rather difficult, though, for Darcy's body refused to co-operate. The lateness of the hour, combined with the length of time Fitzwilliam had spent awake, a three-day trip and all this getting the Master of Pemberley out of his clothes, ensured that both cousin and manservant ended up exhausted by the exertion. Fitzwilliam's body rested unceremoniously on the bed alongside Darcy, while the manservant had caught the wayward chair and managed to seat himself in it, reasonably upright. Darcy's head rose for the first time in half an hour and he looked around. "Hold still, Darce," Fitzwilliam ordered in his military voice. Darcy readily obeyed.

  "He obviously cannot stand. Perhaps if we work together?" They took hold of Darcy's arms and pulled him to a sitting position. Fitzwilliam then suggested hoisting his cousin onto his shoulder so that he could carry him to the slipper tub and deposit him thither. The manservant looked doubtful but, amazingly, after one unsuccessful attempt where the cousins ended up in reversed positions with Fitzwilliam underneath Darcy, it was accomplished. Unfortunately, both Fitzwilliam and the manservant ended up in the slipper tub, while Darcy's body landed sprawled on the floor, his nose buried in the carpet.

  "That will hurt later," Fitzwilliam observed.

  Once they had sunk Darcy several times under the water in his tub, Fitzwilliam asked the servant to prepare strong coffee. Much as they tried to persuade him to sip some of the warm beverage, it all came to naught after they had to endure Darcy's disgusting process of cleansing his stomach.

  Once the cycle was finished (sipping, throwing up, sinking, and all over again to the point of exhaustion for both parties) Fitzwilliam and the very stiff manservant helped the Master of Pemberley to his feet and although Darcy was stark naked, they made him pace the room up and down until they could bear his weight no more. Then they helped him slide into his night shift and sip more coffee, and finally the three of them rested for a while.

  After all this, Richard bade the servant good night.

  "You may go now. I shall take care of him."

  "Good night, sir."

  "Good night."

  Once they were left alone, Darcy resurrected from his slumber. He sat up, his head drooped, looking very much abashed.

  "There wash no message from Ms Bennet, wash there?"

  Fitzwilliam shook his head.

  "That wash a dirty trick" he said stumbling with the syllables.

  "I am sorry. I knew not what to do."

  "What alarmsh me most ish that, evidently, you know my shecret."

  "And your secret would be…?" Darcy let his whole weight drop against the mattress. He raised his hand and held his palm over his eyes. Thereupon, he let all his breath out and commenced his confession.

  "I love her. I love thishh little country woman with all my heart, my shoul, my life. I love her more than I love myshelf, my home, everything that meant shomething to me hash come to nothing without her," he dragged the words as he spoke, not completely recovered to sobriety.

  "Darcy, you are a married man. You have already made your choice," said Richard, visibly disturbed.

  "I did no shuch thing! My choice was her. I wanted to marry her, make her mine for ever."

  "You wanted to marry Miss Bennet?" he asked utterly disbelieved.

  "Indeed I did. I even proposed to her whilst we were in Kent."

  "Proposed? You proposed to her?"

  "She would not have me, Fitz. She rejected me." Darcy's face had fallen again. "Why in the name of God do you think she rejected me? Shhurely you want to know why." The Colonel did not want to know why. The only thing the Colonel wanted to do was the leave that house and bury himself where no one else would find him for a good while.

  Darcy resumed his admission.

  "She would not have me because shhomeone had poisoned her mind against me."

  Richard's heart almost stopped beating. This last confession was not unknown to him. It had been he who had carried out the deed.

  Darcy had stood and begun pacing the room like a caged beast. "She told me all about it," he continued. Then he halted and standing decidedly erect he pointed his forefinger at him. Richard's heart almost stopped beating. "No, she did not tell me, she shhppitted it at me. She shouted it at my face. She…" He sent Richard such a pitiful glance that the Colonel, filled as he was with sheer shame, almost stood and scrambled outside. "She hated me," he completed. "But the worst part is that she had every reason to despise me. You cannot imagine the stupid thing I did," he paused to breathe. He had started to act sober now, he uttered every word correctly without dragging the clusters of consonants. "I had the presumption of interfering between her sister and my friend Bingley. On what grounds? That she did not love him properly. I did everything in my power to separate my friend from her sister and I rejoiced in my success." Having heard the unthinkable, the Colonel did not attempt to appease his affront with added comment.

  "Do you hear me?"

  The colonel nodded.

  "I know. You told me about it then."

  "I did?" Richard nodded again.

  "Well, someone told her, too," he said waving his hand in the air.

  Richard lowered his gaze, unable to look him in the eye, ul
timately unsuccessful in hiding his astonishment.

  "But that would not be all. It was not merely that on which her dislike of me was founded. Long before, her dislike was decided when she heard Wickham's own story of my dealings with him. Apparently Wickham pictured me as the most despicable conceited man ready to deny the poor son of my steward his rightful inheritance. Undoubtedly Miss Bennet held Mr Wickham in her favour at that time, you know his ways very well." By the time Darcy had finished this side of his confession Fitzwilliam's countenance announced a confounded incredulity that was decidedly setting his mind in some sort of trance.

  "I was ready to fight for her, Fitzwilliam, I would have done anything to have her accept me. I defended myself as best as I could, exposing Wickham's true character to her, and certainly risked all to inform her of Georgiana's elopement. I even talked to Bingley and confessed my transgression. Initially I had to endure his resentment, but later he forgave my sin and fortunately he was able to win Miss Bennet's affections. I was not so fortunate, though."

  "What do you mean? You proposed again?" Darcy sighed heavily.

  "No, I did not. I was about to, when once again the odds were against me," he ceased ambulating and stood in front of the decanter. He made a distracted attempt to refill his abandoned glass with brandy, completely oblivious to the container's emptiness. He raised the bottle heavenwards to see if there was any brandy left. Disappointed, he replaced the decanter and continued with his tale. He wheeled around and faced his cousin, who was still sitting on one side of the bed.

  "Some time later in the summer I came upon Miss Bennet here in Derbyshire, in my own house. She had come to me! Can you imagine my feelings? I almost burst with joy. She was there, right in front of me."

  He pointed with his finger to the space in front of him.

  "I said to myself: Surely that meant something. So, the following morning I called on her and her relatives at the inn where they were staying in Lambton. I even introduced her to Georgiana and extended an invitation to dine here. We spent the most beautiful evening of my life. She sang right here in my music room. Sang and played at the pianoforte. She could have played and sang for me forever, Fitz, if only she had said yes. We even exchanged some glances. I thought she… I know she was beginning to feel for me. But then again, she had to flee home after her sister's elopement and was gone from me, this time for good."

  Fitzwilliam's demeanour had decidedly faded into a sombre incredulity. This could not be happening. Not to him.

  "Do you positively think she had returned your feelings whilst she was here in Pemberley?"

  "She certainly did not love me. But I am sure she had begun to feel some regard towards me. Had I had time to woo her properly… who knows."

  "But it would not do, would it? What is the point in crying over spilled milk? What is done, is done."

  "Unfortunately I cannot get rid of her phantom lingering here. Her presence still haunts me. In the gardens I bump into her every afternoon behind every turn. I see her sitting at the piano, looking at me intently with her eyes. Even her voice I hear. I am wrecked, my friend."

  There was a knock at the door, and a servant appeared holding a tray with a light snack for both of them.

  "Excuse me Master, but Mrs Reynolds insists that you should have something to eat."

  "I thank you. Put the tray over the table and leave us." Darcy had recovered his accustomed demeanour.

  They had not finished partaking of the contents of the tray when a yawn escaped from Richard, giving evidence of his weariness and the lateness of the hour. Hence they retired to their beds, not without previously arranging to breakfast together late in the morning.

  When Fitzwilliam exited Darcy's bedchamber, he found his cousin Georgiana waiting for him at the end of the corridor. He was exhausted, but one look in the eyes of the pitiful countenance of the girl persuaded him of the necessity of enduring.

  "Come Georgiana. Let us both have a talk in the library."

  They went into the room, and she sat expectantly, her girlish moist eyes betraying concern and fear.

  "Your brother is sleeping now. He has had something to eat, and feels much better. Though I would not be surprised if he stays a little longer in bed tomorrow. He might suffer some acute headaches, but they will relent towards the evening."

  "Richard, there is something terribly wrong here."

  "What is it, Sprout?"

  "While Wills was locked in his bedchamber, something happened."

  Fitzwilliam stared at her in mute attentiveness.

  "It was three days ago. After I had tried to persuade him to open the door, he told me to go away. He had never talked to me like that."

  "Sprout, you must understand William did not mean to frighten you. I am afraid he was in his cups. You should not worry."

  "I understand. But then I heard something that has been disturbing me so ever since."

  "What is it?"

  "Pray, do not let anyone know this. William will never pardon me if he knew we know"

  "Pray, Sprout, tell me."

  Georgiana lowered her eyes in ashamed tic. She barely murmured "I heard him weep."

  "Sprout, this is quite normal. Men under the influence of spirits…"

  A reaction such as the one she had was hardly expected from the shy girl. "You know perfectly well this is not normal at all! William has never cried before. Not even when Father died!" She shifted nervously on her seat. She had obviously not finished her disclosure. Clasping her hands on her lap she continued "But then, he did something else." She made a pause, cautiously searching her mind for the right words, such seemed to be the importance of the following confession. "He called a name, several times. At the beginning I did not recognise it. It was not my name or yours. It was a lady's name."

  "Whose?" He need not ask that, for before she uttered the dreaded name, Richard's heart was shouting the very same appellation.

  "Miss Elizabeth's."

  Albeit he knew it in advance, the Colonel's face fell. These were heavy misfortunes indeed. How was he to marry the woman whose name his cousin had been calling while inebriated? The whole household might have heard him. Georgiana had. Without a moment's notice, the careful set of dominoes of his plans had come to naught.

  "And that does not end here. He called her by her first name. Elizabeth he said. I know the lady, Fitz. My brother introduced me to her last summer. She came here with her aunt and uncle. William said he was to marry her. Fitz, it is her whom Wills loves, not Anne. And I know she loves him in return."

  "What do you know of love, Sprout?" said Richard bitterly.

  "I am not Sprout! I am Georgiana, and I know what I am saying. She loves my brother, and he loves her! I have seen them, Fitz. I have eyes!"

  "What! What did you see?" Richard had lost all his patience. It was his fiancée they were talking about.

  "The manner in which they looked at each other. She could not get her eyes off of him whilst she was here! She smiled at him in this seductive way," she mimed the lady's smile, making Richard's astonished countenance soften a little.

  "And William… Oh Richard! You should have seen Wills! I have never known him happier. HE smiled and talked and even played the piano! I mean it, Richard. They love each other. I am absolutely certain," she sobbed, visibly mortified.

  "I believe you, Sprout. It must be so." Much as he endeavoured to look calm, the whole affair was demanding far too much from him than he had expected. In her wretchedness, Georgiana demanded an answer. Abruptly, she clung to his cousin's coat with a renewed round of weeping and asked between sobs:

  "Then why did he not marry her, Richard? Why did he marry Anne? He is so unhappy!"

  "I do not know. His marriage had been arranged long ago by your mother and your aunt." He said this whilst patting her back with his trembling hand.

  "I know William and Anne's is a marriage of convenience. What I do not understand is why William did not marry Elizabeth in first place if he was so much in l
ove with her." Georgiana's weeping relented and when she drew apart from him, she bravely announced: "After seeing what has befallen my brother, I am convinced that nothing but the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony."

  "I know Sprout. Unfortunately, 'tis not so easy."

  Nine

  —

  A Christmas Wish

  Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam stayed with his two cousins at Pemberley for a few days, but on Christmas Eve, propriety dictated a journey to Rosings. 'Twas a very little assembly, and the spirits were anything but joyful. Although Darcy had grown much better, Fitzwilliam was reluctant to part with him, so he decided to linger around his family until Twelfth Night. He sent a brief letter to Elizabeth at the Gardiner's, explaining that a previous family engagement had prevented him from keeping his promise to spend the Christmas celebration in London, avoiding the disclosure of his whereabouts.

  Darcy had been more cheerful, while Georgiana had been grateful and calmer in the Colonel's company. The three of them journeyed towards Kent to spend the twelve days of Christmas celebration with Mrs Darcy and her pompous mother. Darcy's gratitude to Fitzwilliam was doubled for he had acknowledged he would not have found the strength to spend these days with his spouse, simply because he had long ago surmised he would have spent them with none other than Miss Bennet as his wife. This confidence was making it all the more difficult for Fitzwilliam to open up about his recent betrothal to the lady. The night after the conversation with Georgiana had been difficult enough, and his cousin's transparency at the moment, opening his heart, made the whole affair an insurmountable mountain.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam's love for Elizabeth was great indeed. But family loyalties had always been uppermost in both Fitzwilliam's and Darcy's relationship. They had stood together during Wickham's infamous intended elopement with Georgiana. They had dived the muddiest of waters in order to sustain their family's bond, tightly closed together, and they had succeeded. His recent engagement was still kept in complete secrecy, but the Colonel was sure it would reach his cousin in no time the moment it became open to the world. And he knew Darcy only too well to ignore what his reaction would be. Darcy's mortification would be complete on realising that his own cousin was marrying the only woman he had ever loved, and he would certainly fall even further down than he had recently done.