Page 4 of Yearning

She was seated right next to him. She had been about to take his hand in hers, which was her way.

But now, he was looking at her, and she was too overcome by it, by this, the first time they had really communicated in weeks now, to do anything except gape at him. Her eyes stung. She was going to start weeping, she thought.

No, no, I must not, she urged herself. No weeping. He must not see me weeping over him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, and his voice was raw and hoarse, and the way he formed his consonants was muffled. He could not really move his jaw overmuch.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said. And then, shaking herself. “Fitzwilliam.”

He sucked in a noisy breath through his nose. “No one else believes me, but you will, will you not? You can tell, I am sure of it. You can tell that I am currently in possession of my faculties.”

“Of course,” she said.

“I have tried with others,” he said. “Every time I try, they force more laudanum down my throat. I don’t want any more laudanum.”

“Y-you… perhaps you are unaware how injured you are,” she said. “The laudanum blunts—”

He struggled to move and then his gaze got stuck on his arm—well, the stump where his arm had once been. It had been removed just above the elbow. He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, that’s real, is it?” he gasped. “It is hard to remember what is a dream and what is not.”

“I am not a dream,” she said, and she reached for his good hand.

He let her take it for a minute, and then he pulled it away. “No, it is all real. None of it was a dream.” He fixed her with a look. “Lizzy? I need you to help me.”

“Of course,” she said. “Of course, anything.”

“Put the pillow over my face and hold it down,” he said. “You can do it sometime after I’m under, with the laudanum. I might involuntarily struggle now, but you’re here often, so you can do it. After you agree, I shall scream, and they will come and make me take more of it, and then you can end it.”

She got up and backed away from the bed, and she did not realize that she was speaking until she heard her own voice saying it, over and over, “No, no, no, no.”

“Lizzy, attend to me,” he said, his voice fierce. “I don’t want to live this way. This is not life. And the laudanum. I shall never get off the laudanum, don’t you see? I shall have a dependency, and I shall be a crippled creature who lives only in dreams and I cannot bear it and please.”

“No, no,” she said. “I shall tell them not to give you laudanum, however. I shall tell them that. We can wean you off of it. I know it can be done.”

“I shan’t be able to abide the pain, as you just said,” he muttered.

“Perhaps not now, but you will heal. You are already healing. You are much improved since it happened, and I shall be here, and we are going to get married, because we are in love.”

“Yes,” he said. “In love. I love you, and you love me. That is the way of it. You do love me?”

“I do, you know I do.”

“Then you will do this for me,” he said. “Please? Please, end it. I want it over. I cannot bear this realization again and again.” He waved his stump at her. “Please.”

Tears were leaking out of her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, and she fled from the room.

IT WASN’T THE last time he asked, and every time he did, he seemed not to remember that he had asked before.

It was not every day, but it became more frequent, for a number of weeks, and then Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived, and Mr. Darcy began to ask him instead of Elizabeth.

She knew, because she came upon the colonel one day, outside of the converted sitting room, with that white-lipped look that mirrored the look of the men who had decided to send Mr. Darcy to London even if it could have killed him.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said. “Are you well? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You come every day,” said the colonel.

She nodded.

“Do you know he just asked me to shoot him?”