Halloween and a Forgotten Scene: Darcy & Elizabeth visit Lady Catherine

I started writing a Pride and Prejudice Halloween scene for this blog earlier this month, and then, as I was sorting out some of my older folders, I discovered a prologue I had written and forgotten about completely! I had a folder full of notes and possible directions the story could take, but had no recollection of writing any of it! So, as I went through the sketch, I felt like a reader reading it for the first time. Luckily, it slowly came back to me, and I didn’t have to start worrying about a big hole in my memory.  Phew! It’s amazing how many things we writers come up with and then set aside!

Anyway, since I had (re-)discovered this scene, I abandoned my other Halloween piece [with definite plans to make it longer for next year, I promise] and decided to post this one instead. It’s the first scene in what is meant to be a longer story.

May the spirits of Halloween be with you!

~~~

It is universally believed that a deathbed is a person’s opportunity to provide evidence of a loving and forgiving nature, however contrary that may be to a lifetime spent proving exactly the opposite. Armed with this belief, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy set out post-haste to Rosings Park the moment a messenger arrived to inform him that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was living her final hours.

It took some time for Elizabeth to convince Darcy that this might not the best time to introduce their son to Lady Catherine. Darcy seemed to think Lady Catherine’s heart would melt the moment she set eyes on little Edward. Elizabeth did not want to submit the one-year old to the urgent demands of the journey.

As the horses thundered onwards through the darkness, Darcy pulled down the window and peered forward. The full moon spilled into the carriage, turning his face a ghostly silver and revealing the lines of tension around his mouth.

“You cannot will the horses to go any faster by staring at them, William.” Elizabeth had managed to tease him out of his apprehension  a few times, but the closer they drew to Rosings Park, the harder it became to reassure him. “We are fortunate that there is a full moon with enough light that we can travel at all. We will arrive as quickly — or as slowly — whatever you do. You may as well resign yourself to some sleep.”

Darcy shook his head. “I cannot sleep. I cannot endure possibility of my aunt dying without a reconciliation. It will return to haunt me. I feel it deep inside me.”

Elizabeth felt the truth of that statement in her very bones, along with the urgency of his need.

“That is why you must take advantage of this time to rest. You have barely slept since you received the letter three days ago.”

“Because I know what it is like to lose my family. My father’s and mother’s deaths have taught me the kinds of regrets that burden the living. There is always something you wished you said, something you wanted to do with them before they were taken away.”

Elizabeth took up his hand and slipped her fingers between his.

“It is to your credit that you still concern yourself with the feelings of Lady Catherine, but you have tried to reach out to her, numerous times. You have done your best to reconcile her, both to your unforgiveable marriage to me,” she gave him a saucy smile, “and the part she believes we played in freeing Anne from her clutches. If she has not forgiven you, it is not for lack of trying.”

Her smile went unnoticed. He continued to gaze out into the moonlit darkness beyond the carriage. “You and Lady Catherine have never seen eye to eye. But she remains my mother’s sister, and I cannot have it on my conscience that I caused her unhappiness.”

Elizabeth refrained from pointing out that it was Lady Catherine that brought her unhappiness on herself by alienating both her own daughter and her nephew.

Instead she attempted to sound a cheerful note. “It could be a false alarm. We may arrive to find she has rallied her forces and is recovering her strength.”

Darcy’s stiff nod revealed his doubts, but he gave her a wan smile, acknowledging her attempt.

“Perhaps.”

He closed the window and drew her against him. They nestled together, deriving warmth from each other in the cold night.

~*~

When they arrived at Rosings Park, the moon was half-hidden, stained with blotches of grey. Distorted shadows accompanied them as they climbed the steps to the great mansion. Elizabeth’s was groggy with sleep.

They were met in the hall by Mrs Jenkinson. At the lines of strain on her face, all hope of a false alarm was stifled.

“How is she?” said Darcy in a quiet voice as he removed his great coat and hat and handed it to a footman.

“Her health has deteriorated. I fear you may have come for nothing, Mr Darcy. She has not opened her eyes nor spoken a word in more than three hours. I cannot rouse her at all to give her the concoction prepared for her by the physician. She is oblivious to her surroundings.”

They fell into step behind Mrs Jenkinson as she hurried towards Lady Catherine’s bedchamber. Elizabeth wished she could take Darcy’s hand to comfort him, but he was striding ahead of her, his jaw tight, the tautness of his body making clear he would not welcome it just yet.

The room was dark, thick brocade curtains drawn tightly across the window as if to prevent the moonlight from entering. Lady Catherine lay in her bed. She was painfully thin, her face, once puffed up with haughty pride, now looked pale and helpless. A surge of pity went through Elizabeth. It was sad to see that arrogant woman so wasted, so utterly drained of disdain.

“Lady Catherine, your nephew Fitzwilliam Darcy is here to see you.”

There was no reaction at all. Had William really come too late? Elizabeth’s heart bled for him, knowing he had lost the chance to patch up things between them.

Meanwhile, Darcy sat on a chair, his knees touching the bed, and cradled his aunt’s thin hand between his own.

Mrs Jenkinson took a seat in the corner, where a half-burnt candle cast a sickly light, and took up her needlework. It was immediately apparent that she had spent many hours engaged in this manner.

Elizabeth settled into an armchair. They sat there for more than an hour. Nothing changed. The sound of Lady Catherine’s laboured breathing filled the room, along with the insistent ticking of a grandfather clock from the hall outside, and the solemn boom of the chimes as they announced the progress of each quarter hour.

A movement from the bed startled Elizabeth out of the half-sleep into which she had fallen. She sprang up at once to stand behind Darcy.

Lady Catherine’s eyes flew open.

“Who is there?”

“It is I, Aunt, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Lady Catherine sat bolt upright in the bed and fixed her eyes on her nephew.

“Have you come here to disturb me even in my death? Have you come to mock me even now? You should not have come.” Her eyes blazed with a bright unearthly light. They moved over his shoulder to where Elizabeth was hovering uncomfortably beside him. “And to think you have brought that woman with you, the very instrument of my torment!”

The eery eyes bore into her, full of anger and hate. Elizabeth shifted uneasily but forced herself to stand her ground. She would not cower, but it had been a mistake to come. Nothing she could say or do would make any difference. William should have bid farewell to his aunt alone.

As if following her thoughts, Lady Catherine’s blazing gaze turned back to Darcy. “You never heeded me during my life, nephew, but you shall heed me in my death. You have polluted the shades of Pemberley, and for that you must receive your just reward.”

She reached out suddenly, her bony fingers digging into his arm.

“I curse you, and I curse Pemberley and your offspring. My curse will blight your happiness, and destroy everything you hold most dear, as you have done with me.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes burned even brighter. A grey fog rose from the bed, spreading outward. Elizabeth  felt  something sliding across her cheek, like the wet touch of a snail, only much colder. She shivered.

Then the glow in Lady Catherine’s eyes started to fade. A glaze settled over them, turning them opaque. The bony fingers lost their grip and her head fell back onto the pillow.

She had made her last effort.

Lady Catherine had bid them farewell.

~~~

I hope this short sketch got you into the Halloween spirit. 😉

Now it’s your turn to contribute. What do you think should  happen next? Please let your imagination roam.