Read Memory: Volume 1, Lasting Impressions, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) for Free Online Page A

conversation she would be wringing her hands and lamenting how I did not catch him, and what a failure I am again.”  Elizabeth whispered furiously.
    “I am sorry Lizzy; I did not mean to make you unhappy.”  Jane patted her shoulder.  “No more talk of men, now play for me.”
    “It is awful, I warn you.”  She said honestly and set out the sheets.
    “That is why you are practicing.”  Jane laughed, and listened as the tune was slowly played, and clapped loudly as it finished.  “It is better.”
    “I would rather be outdoors.”  Elizabeth turned to her.  “Why do you think that Mr. Darcy’s eyes were so sad?”
    “I do not know, Lizzy.”
    She stood up and leaned on the window frame and stared pensively out at the fading garden.  “I hope that he is well.” 
     
    DARCY SAT UPON his jet black stallion at the top of the hillside and looked down into the valley.  Below him was Pemberley House, its stone edifice blending perfectly and naturally with the background of trees behind it.  The lake, formed long ago by another Darcy damning a stream sparkled in the bright sunshine.  He took a deep breath of the clean fresh air and relaxed.  He always found peace here on this precipice.  His mount shifted and he unconsciously moved with the animal, readjusting his weight and not once breaking his gaze over what he knew would soon be his land.  He sighed and then turned when another horse whinnied behind him. 
    “Father!” 
    Mr. Darcy smiled slightly, and slowly guided his horse to his son’s side.  His colour was terrible, his body, simultaneously wasted and swollen, was slumped, and his breathing very laboured, but his eyes retained a look of fierce determination to make this, obviously final, ride over his land.  “I thought we should share this view together.”  He said then squeezed his eyes shut, and reaching for the flask containing the pain killer the apothecary supplied, swallowed a dose.  Darcy noted that what had once been an occasional drink had, over the past three months, become a nearly constant companion.  His father grimaced.  “Terrible taste, even wine does nothing to mask what it is.”  He coughed and clutched his stomach, then drawing a deep breath straightened, and met Darcy’s worried gaze.  “It will not be long.”
    “Please do not say that, Father.”
    “No Son, I pray for it now.”  He smiled.  “I am ready, as are you.”  He held up his hand to stop the inevitable protest.  “You have learned well.  I was correct; you did already know everything; you have observed me for years.  I have no doubt over your abilities to carry on.  It will be difficult for a little while, but you will do well.  Be proud of your name, Fitzwilliam!  Remember, you are a Darcy!  For hundreds of years our family has owned and tended and coaxed this land to bear its fruit.  We made this land what it is.  We are not titled, but we are great, and any who hear our name respect it, as they should.  You must treat it with care, Son.  Protect it, and when you have your family, teach your sons to be proud of it as well.  Carry on the tradition as I have, make this land rich for generations to come.”
    Darcy’s chest swelled to hear his father’s speech.  “I will Father, I will not let you down.”
    He nodded and coughed again.  “Look after your sister, I trust her to you.”
    “She will be cared for Father, I promise.”  He said softly.
    “And do not forget what I said of your choice for a wife.”  Darcy looked at him in confusion, trying to remember his words.  Mr. Darcy coughed harder and gasped.  “Take me home, Son.”
    Darcy grabbed the reins and turning the horses, he slowly guided them back to the stables.  Within an hour, Mr. Darcy lay in his bed.  Georgiana was brought to his side and sobbing, received a last kiss and pat on her cheek.  Her governess led her away, leaving Darcy alone to sit by his father’s bedside, grasping his hand and