The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love (27 page)

Raising his booted foot, he kicked the door open wide. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a shot rang out, and Darcy instantly sank to his knees. He fired his pistol, more out of reflex than intent, but he was unable to discern just where his bullet had struck.

When he looked down he saw the blood that seeped through his clothing, and then he felt the burning pain. He slumped to the ground. He felt hands upon him, rifling through his pockets as he fought to remain conscious.

Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had travelled for several miles in silence. As the sun reached the horizon, a shot suddenly echoed through the woods immediately followed by another, and the colonel had to fight every natural instinct in him to turn Lightning around and go back. He had kept his promise, but at what cost?

CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT

The music for the last waltz of the evening begins to play, and Mr. Darcy walks in my direction. I feel my heart rate increase as he draws nearer. Is he coming to ask me to dance? In my eagerness to be held in his arms, I take a few steps forward, but for the first time my dream does not absolve me of my limp.

I can hear the disapproving whispers of those around me, and I feel foolish standing there as every pair of eyes have turned to look upon me. I feel as if I am standing in quicksand, my feet unable to move.

For a brief moment Mr. Darcy’s gaze meets mine, but he seems to look right through me. Without acknowledging my presence, he walks past me and towards the row of venerable young ladies who are all awaiting his attention; all hoping they will be the one with whom he chooses to dance. When he has made his choice, he leads the young lady to the dance floor. Together they dance the last waltz; the waltz that in previous dreams Mr. Darcy had promised would always be reserved for me.

Elizabeth awoke with a start; she had dreamed of him yet again. Night after night Mr. Darcy’s presence was there, haunting her dreams. How was she ever to forget him?

Other than her dreams, she had not seen nor heard from Mr. Darcy since that infamous day that he and Colonel Fitzwilliam had rescued her. For the past two weeks she had waited in vain to hear some word from him.

It was only through Mr. Bingley that she had obtained any knowledge at all of Mr. Darcy, and even he seemed reluctant to speak of him.

It was Colonel Fitzwilliam who had come to Longbourn to inform her of the outcome of that day. It was then she had learnt of Mr. Wickham’s escape. But the colonel was quick to reassure her that she would be in no further danger from the man. It appeared that he had left the country rather than face the many charges of the Military Court that awaited him. Most likely he was gone from their lives forever, for he would be a fool to ever step foot in England again.

Her abduction would remain undisclosed. To her great relief, her sisters would not have to bear the shame of that day.

As for herself, it seemed of little consequence. The only man whose good opinion she desired was already well aware of her disgrace, and clearly Mr. Darcy wanted nothing more to do with someone whose virtue he believed was now tarnished. Her dreams merely confirmed what she already knew: he would never look at her the same way again.

His forbearance of her faults had rightly reached the level of insupportable. It seemed that even friendship was no longer a possibility.

Even Georgiana’s letters now seemed more impersonal than before, and she mentioned her brother only in passing. But she supposed she should be grateful that Mr. Darcy had allowed his sister to continue their correspondence at all.

Every last spark of hope that she had foolishly allowed her delusions to fan, were now forever extinguished. She would not give rise to them ever again; her poor, fragile heart could not bear another disappointment. Now if she could just stop dreaming of him.

She breathed out a large sigh. It should not matter to her
what
Mr. Darcy thought, but somehow just knowing that he was alive in the world and thinking ill of her was causing her a great deal of heartache.

Determined to rid herself of her melancholy mood, Elizabeth threw off her covers and stood as she turned her attention to the busy day ahead of her.

She glanced towards her dresser at the package she had been purposely avoiding—the package that contained the slippers Dr. Graham had left for her during her absence. When she had questioned her father about such an oddity, he had explained they were no ordinary slippers, but specially designed to help improve her gait.

She walked to the dresser and let her fingers gently graze the threads of the intricately embroidered flowers that were stitched across the toe of each slipper. Lifting them up, she examined them more closely. Despite the fact that they were a
pair
, they did not look exactly alike: the sole of one was distinctly thicker than that of the other.

“It is up to you, Lizzy, whether you wish to wear them or not. But why not at least try them?” Mr. Bennet had encouraged. “Dr. Graham said he would be most interested to hear your opinion of them. It is his hope that others may also benefit from their unique construction.”

Maybe Papa is right; it would not hurt to try them.

Elizabeth slipped them on and was surprised at how perfectly they fit. She took a precarious step and then another as she discerned the more fluid stride they created.
Perhaps with a little practice
. . .

********

George Wickham looked at his reflection in the cracked mirror that lopsidedly hung in the cheap, flea-bitten room where he had spent the night. He closely inspected his face. The bullet from Darcy’s gun had grazed his right cheek, just under his eye, resulting in a large gash that was healing into a most unattractive scar. His right eye was also affected as it seemed to sag, distorting the symmetry of his face; his handsome features were now marred.

Though he knew the bullet had struck him randomly, he could not help but recognize that it left its mark precisely in the same spot as the bruise he had inflicted upon Elizabeth Bennet’s face.

He had been on the move since that night he had fled from the cabin. The money he had divested from Darcy’s pockets was gone, and he was now forced to lower himself to day labour in order to pay for his food and the shabby accommodations he now endured. He supposed he could sell the pocket watch he had also pilfered from Darcy, but he decided to keep it as a memento. After all, it did have his namesake inscribed on the back. His devious mind was already conjuring up fictitious scenarios as to whom Anne might have been and why she would have bestowed such a handsome gift upon him; a grateful lover perhaps.

It was his intention to leave England and cross the border into Scotland. There it was unlikely that the military authorities would be looking for him. But as he came upon the small town of Cornhill in the northern most county of Northumberland, he decided to delay his departure from England for a short while. An idea came to him that might profit him in more ways than one.

********

“How are your nerves holding out, Jane?”

Jane sighed and gave Lizzy a smile. “In truth, as the day grows nearer, I am finding the anticipation unbearable. Sometimes I cannot wait for my wedding day to occur, and at other times I wish it were already over with. I had wanted just a small ceremony with our closest friends and neighbours, but it seems our mother has turned my wedding into Hertfordshire’s social event of the year.”

“Yes, I believe there is not a resident within fifty miles to whom she has not extended an invitation.”

“But, I suppose,” commented Jane with another sigh, “that I can withstand her abundance of enthusiasm if it makes her so happy.”

“Oh Jane, you are the perfect daughter. I doubt I would be as understanding. I cannot even abide her meddling with regard to Mr. McGregor. He is to dine with us tonight. Most likely he could not think of another excuse to refuse. The man was practically forced to accept our mother’s invitation and, in all honesty, I am not decided if I have completely forgiven him.”

“Well, it would not hurt to at least give him a chance, Lizzy. I am sure he would welcome the opportunity to make amends for his past foolish behaviour.”

“I suppose you are right,” replied Elizabeth, smiling at her sister’s generous nature. “We had best return to the house; he is due at any moment, and I have yet to change my slippers before he arrives.”

“You do not plan to wear
those
tonight?”

“I have never worn them in front of anyone except you and Papa. Really, I am only trying them so that I might inform Dr. Graham of my opinion.”

“Well, you seem to have easily adapted to them, Lizzy.”

“I must admit, I would be curious to see how I might dance in them,” Elizabeth conceded as a blush painted her cheeks. The image of waltzing in Mr. Darcy’s arms suddenly entered her mind, and she immediately chastised herself for thinking of him.

“If you and I practice together, you might become quite proficient at it. Perhaps you might feel confident enough to risk a dance at my wedding ball,” suggested Jane.

“I do not think that is wise, Jane. There will be so many people there watching me. Besides, I do not feel completely comfortable about wearing them.”

“Why not, Lizzy?”

“I feel as if they are . . . I don’t know . . . deceptive in some way.”

“They are no more deceptive than say . . . a lady’s corset,” said Jane, to their mutual amusement.

“I would hardly compare the two.”

“I do not see why not. A corset helps display all of a lady’s . . . physical attributes to her best advantage, while disguising all her imperfections. I see no difference at all.”

Elizabeth released a deep sigh. “I wish I could see it that way.”

When they reached the house, Elizabeth quickly went inside to change her slippers. As she descended the stairs, Mr. McGregor was just entering the parlour. He gave a short bow as he addressed four of the five Bennet sisters, as Lydia was not due back from Brighton for another sennight. “Good evening, ladies.”

“Good evening, Mr. McGregor,” they responded in unison. “It has been a very long time, sir,” said Elizabeth.

“Indeed it has. It is so good to see you again, Elizabeth,” he replied with some trepidation as their eyes met. “I thank you for the invitation.”

During dinner Elizabeth was uncharacteristically quiet as she observed their guest. Once he had overcome his initial apprehension, he seemed relaxed and amiable. He talked of his recent apprenticeship at a nearby estate and how he was now ready to take over as his father’s estate manager. Elizabeth noted how both Kitty and Mary seemed captivated by his conversation. Clearly he had made an impression on them.

When the evening had come to an end, Elizabeth stood beside him as he awaited his carriage to be summoned. “I am sorry my mother was as so insistent upon your dining at Longbourn, Mr. McGregor. I know she can be overbearing at times, but I believe she means well.”

“Not at all, Elizabeth. I found tonight to be a most pleasant experience. I admit I was reluctant to come, but that was because of my own embarrassment. I was afraid you would scorn me. You have every right. I would be most grateful for the chance to earn back your friendship, and I should like very much to call at Longbourn again.”

********

Elizabeth lay on her bed that night, staring up at the ceiling. Even though she had told herself many times over the last three weeks that she was ready to forget Mr. Darcy and move on with her life, she could not help but feel sad at the prospect. He had become a part of her. Whether consciously or not, her every thought and deed was somehow associated with him. But another week had passed with still no word from him. Was she willing to live the rest of her life on just dreams and fantasies of a man who could never love her?

She felt tears well in her eyes as she questioned if it was possible for her to care as deeply for someone else as she cared for Mr. Darcy. Could she welcome another gentleman’s kisses as eagerly and as passionately as she had welcomed his? Was he truly the only man she could ever love? Despite all of her convictions, it seemed she was still reluctant to replace Mr. Darcy in her heart.

********

Georgiana placed the cool cloth on her brother’s forehead. His fever still persisted, but his intervals of wakefulness were now increasing in length. Yet still a good deal of his time was spent in a state of suspended lucidity.

He had barely endured the removal of the bullet fired from Wickham’s pistol. His doctor had declared him lucky; had the bullet struck just a few inches lower, he would not have survived at all. Even after three weeks, his recovery was still very much in question.

In his moments of clarity, Darcy remembered his ordeal and how he had fought to remain alert on the cabin’s floor. It was only when he had seen Colonel Fitzwilliam standing over him that he allowed himself to drift into painless unconsciousness.

During that first week of his fevered confusion, he had repeatedly called out Elizabeth’s name. But even in his delirium, he had made them all promise that she would never learn of his injuries. He wanted neither her sympathy nor her gratitude. It had suddenly become paramount that Elizabeth Bennet not only accept him . . . but that she also love him. Yes, he wanted only her love. He prayed that when next they met, he would not be too late and that she would still be in love with him.