If only George had taken the opportunities offered to him by my father to improve his situation through education, his life could have been totally different. Then Mrs. Younge’s sister, mad! Love can indeed make or break a person. Is this a premonition of what could happen as a result of my passionate love for Elizabeth? Should I let her go? Miss Lydia, to die so young. It is all very tragic. She was just of Georgiana’s age, and should have had so much life before her. I wonder whether Elizabeth feels that I have failed her. What more could I have possibly done to prevent this tragedy from happening? And yet how untenable is seems to be so powerless in the face of events.

He pulled his aching body up, waking Elizabeth in the process. They greeted each other with embarrassment and sadness. She wanted him to rest for another day before leaving for London but he was determined to lose no more time. He told her he was feeling fine.

Mr. Darcy remained silent throughout the journey back to London. His body ached, and his thoughts were in turmoil. The Gardiners will surely be worried about Elizabeth, and I do not wish her reputation to be more ruined if this compromising adventure with me should ever be made public. I love her too much to allow any further damage to occur, if I can possibly prevent it.

We must return as soon as possible to London. But should I ask for her hand again now? Would she accept me, after what I allowed to happen to cause the death of her sister? She must hate me now. I do not know what action to take. I am too weary to deal with this right now. All that I know to do is to return her to the safety of her family, and to inform them of the unfortunate details of what has befallen Lydia and Wickham. For now, I dare do no more.

* * *

Depending upon circumstance, six months could be either a long or a very short time. For Elizabeth, the six months spent in mourning were extremely long. She had not seen Mr. Darcy since they parted at Gracechurch Street. His last parting gaze at her was imbedded in her memory, grim and disheartening. He had made all of the arrangements necessary for her to leave London, and had further taken care of the transportation of the bodies of Miss Lydia and her brief, yet legal husband Mr. Wickham. All had arrived safely back at Longbourn in the comforts provided by Darcy's carriages. He had sent Elizabeth home with her sickly father and his man servant, with the addition of a maid to accompany her.

But since that day, a long six months ago, she had received no communication from Mr. Darcy or his sister. She no longer knew what he thought of her, or whether she would ever see him again.

Life at Longbourn was bleak and depressing. Mrs. Bennet, hysterical, was inconsolable upon learning of the violent death of her younger daughter, so soon after the marriage. She blamed Colonel Forster for not taking care of Lydia properly in Brighton, blamed Mr. Wickham for seducing the mad woman, blamed the Gardiners and Elizabeth for allowing Lydia to run away a second time, and blamed her poor husband for not finding the pair sooner. She stayed in her room most of the time, still blaming everyone but herself, and demanding constant attention from her daughters and servants.

The only happy news was that Mr. Bennet had recovered, not long after their return from London, and seemed not to suffer any major damage from the strain to his heart, beyond a slight limp in his right leg. It was a tremendous relief since, had he, too, met his judgment, they would surely all have been displaced from Longbourn, and Elizabeth thought privately that her mother might well have gone mad, if that turn of events had occurred.

On the day that the Bennets packed up their mourning clothes, Mrs. Bennet received the best news from her sister, Mrs. Philips: Mr. Bingley would be returning to Netherfield, the following week.

Elizabeth’s heart-beat skipped on hearing the news. Is he coming to see me? Of course, she was not thinking of Mr. Bingley, but of his friend, Mr. Darcy. After two weeks of endless waiting, finally a horse was heard one morning approaching Longbourn. It was Mr. Bingley… but, to her extreme disappointment, he arrived for a visit alone. She fought back tears at having her expectations raised only to be brought back crashing down again in such disappointment. If she had not been so curious to gain some intelligence about his friend, Elizabeth would have fled the room to privately express her distress. Instead, she composed herself, determined to support her sister, Jane, through this first meeting with Mr. Bingley.

In the event, Mr. Bingley stayed for tea but declined dinner. He tried repeatedly to engage Miss Bennet in conversation, but Jane was even more quiet than usual. Mrs. Bennet managed to monopolise the conversation, thus inadvertently helping the couple to overcome the awkwardness of their first meeting after such a long separation.

When he was ready to leave, Mr. Bingley addressed Elizabeth, handing her a letter… from Miss Darcy. He had almost forgotten his message, so distracted was he at seeing his angel, Jane, again. He finally told Elizabeth that she was invited by Miss Darcy to visit Pemberley as soon as Elizabeth could find the time. He further added that Georgiana and her brother were both eager to renew their acquaintance since they last met in London.

Elizabeth’s hands trembled when she held the letter. Her countenance turned from desperation to hope. He has not forgotten me! He has sent for me - finally!

Chapter Five

Pemberley in late October was magnificent. The weather was getting colder, even in sunlight, but the Buxwood, Yew and multi-coloured fallen leaves created a vibrant mosaic that framed the great estate.

Elizabeth drew a deep breath of the crisp morning air as she walked to the maze.

She had been crestfallen, the previous evening, to have found only Georgiana waiting to welcome their party when Elizabeth and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived. It seemed that a tenant problem on the far west side of the estate's property had called Mr. Darcy away. But the young girl reassured her that he was looking forward to seeing them all again, and Georgiana welcomed Elizabeth like a long lost sister. They did not talk much during dinner, as Georgiana was not used to playing hostess and Elizabeth’s heart was heavy with anticipation and disappointment. They all retired early from an exhausting day of travel.

Elizabeth tossed and turned the whole night. Although she had been placed in the most comfortable and luxuriant bedchamber in which she had ever stayed, she found herself longing to embrace Mr. Darcy to her bosom, wanting nothing more than to be transported back to the hours they had spent together at that fisherman's hut where they had, at least and at last, been quite alone together.

She woke up very early and walked out along the garden path, where finally she came upon the maze, at the most remote part of the garden. Its tall bushes were trimmed and shaped most intriguingly, and she walked into it, her heart full of thoughts of the owner of the great estate. While her gaze traversed flowers, pots, and statues along the many twists and turns, her thoughts reflected upon her life, reviewing the things she had done and discussed with this man.

After half an hour in the maze, she decided to return to the house, but when she turned round, she soon discovered that she was lost, unable to find her way out. It seemed a wryly apt reflection of her life. Was she never to find a way out of the confusing situations into which she got herself? Would Mr. Darcy finally decide that his love for her was over? Would his ardent admiration fade away, just when she had at last found her love for him?

She could not bear to face such a possibility. She must find a way for him to love her as he once had. She must.

So decided, she ran from one lane to another, feeling more and more like a trapped animal in a cage. Soon, in her rush to find the way out, she twisted her recently injured ankle, which only made her remember how Mr. Darcy had carried her, a recollection that added to her state of melancholy. She berated herself for having fallen into such a panic as to hurt herself once again. Leaning gingerly against the bushes for support, she took a deep breath, commanding herself to calmness.

Soon, although the thought pleased her not at all, she decided that she would have to call out for assistance while she slowly, painfully continued her search for the exit.

“Help! Someone please help me! I am lost in this maze! Help!” Elizabeth yelled as she limped along the twisting paths, hoping that one of the gardeners might hear her.

Suddenly she heard her name. “Elizabeth! Where are you?”

The echoing voice of Mr. Darcy was sweet balm on her wounded soul. She limped toward the sound of his voice, turning around another set of bushes. “Mr. Darcy,” she called with renewed hope, "I am here.”

“Elizabeth!” Finally, Mr. Darcy came to her vision. He looked thinner than when she had seen him last, with an air of distress and exhaustion. “Elizabeth, my lord! What happened to you?” He walked straight to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, taking much of the weight from her injured ankle.

“Mr. Darcy, you are finally here!” She was overcome with emotion. The grief of the past six months, the uncertainty of not knowing whether she would see him again, the crazed worry of feeling forever trapped in the maze, all combined to overtake her. She rose on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her face to his shoulder and began to cry.