Chapter 17 A Test of Fire

The mood at Lucas Lodge contrasted greatly with the emotional atmosphere Elizabeth Bennet experienced at Longbourn. For the first time since the fire, Elizabeth felt as though she was not alone in her bereavement over the loss of life that night. Granted, it was slightly unfair to chastise her family’s lack of mourning period when the Lucas family had lost so much while the Bennet family merely a beloved aunt.
Even securing the audience to present her painting had proven to be difficult. Lady Lucas’ first response expressed that she was not accepting visitors of any kind. It was only after Elizabeth wrote back that she desperately needed to see the family as she possessed something of Charlotte’s she thought the family might like returned that she was granted a time to visit the week before Christmas. She didn’t say it was her likeness and not a trinket or other treasured possession.
To her surprise, Sir William Lucas wasted no time after receiving the painting to find it a place of honor. He hastily yanked down an ill-famed depiction of a relative Charlotte had never mentioned over the mantle. In its place, Elizabeth’s work was hung with great reverence. For some reason, this embarrassed her greatly. In her mind, she thought the Lucases would have placed the painting in their bedroom, or some other private room away from the eyes of casual visitors.
“However did you capture them so expertly?” Lady Lucas asked, still dabbing her eyes from tears of happiness.
Elizabeth chuckled nervously. “Charlotte and Maria often posed for me. All of those picnics and hikes up on Oakham Mount. I miss them so much, you see.” Her voice choked in her throat. She swallowed and continued on. “But I never dispose of a sketchbook. Even the sketches I loathe to claim as done by my hand. Later I always discover at least a handful of pages in each tome holds works I am proud of,” she babbled, realizing that she was losing Lady Lucas in her explanation.
Quickly, she simplified her answer. “I used several sketches, and my own memories, for the painting.”
“I don’t believe we would have a more faithful rendering than if our girls had sat for a master portraitist,” Sir William Lucas offered high praise, holding his wife in an embrace.
Not wishing to overstay her welcome, Elizabeth craned her neck to spy John Lucas passing by the parlor, refusing to be a part of the awkward memorial inside.
“Thank you for accepting my small offering,” she began, only to be interrupted by both of Charlotte’s parents that she accept the gratitude from them and not the other way around. Elizabeth took one last look at the calming expression of her closest friends, and then still offered her condolences to the Lucas family for their loss.
As Charlotte’s parents wept anew over the painting of their daughters lost in the fire, Elizabeth quietly stepped away to catch John in the hall.
“Would you be so kind as to call my carriage?” she asked her dearest friend’s eldest brother.
John Lucas offered a small bow of his head in agreement. When he did not speak, Elizabeth grew irritated and addressed him again.
“I should have inquired before this time as to your health,” she said, modestly.
“And how should you have inquired? While you were fighting to survive yourself, or later when you took ill with fever?” John Lucas asked, revealing that he had remained aware, somehow, of her situation at Longbourn.
Mr. Lucas walked past Elizabeth to the footman he saw crossing to the back of Lucas Lodge. With a whisper, he made the lady’s request for her family’s vehicle to be brought around to the front. Standing with his back to Elizabeth, he hunched his shoulders and his body shook with silent sobs.
“John?” she asked, gently walking towards him where they could see his parents and the painting through a clear line of sight.
He flinched as she touched his shoulder with her gloved hand. With a loud sniff, John Lucas regained his composure and wiped his face with a handkerchief.
“Your painting is superb. We do not deserve such kindness,” he said.
“I was too late to save them,” she said.
“No, the failing is mine,” he said tersely, finally turning to face her.
Startled by the pain twisted in his face, Elizabeth gasped.
“We were all lucky to survive that night. But just the same,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “I feel the guilt as you do.”
“Do you? Could you possibly? How many sisters did you lose? How many sisters did you abandon for a silly dance around a circle because you wanted to tease a friend?” he spat the rhetorical questions, forcing Elizabeth to blink back tears.
“Yes, we all danced as we were expected. But that doesn’t mean that you abandoned your sisters.”
“I ran like a coward,” he confessed. “I was no hero like the other gentlemen.”
Elizabeth’s head began to pound from the tension tightening at the base of her neck. “You could not have saved them. I went back in,” she began, but John Lucas threw up his hands and began to walk away from her. Elizabeth chased after him. “No, listen!” she demanded, grabbing his arm. “They had both succumbed by the time I found them. I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror until I finished this painting. But the truth is, the truth is,” she said, gasping for breath.
Sir William Lucas and Lady Lucas had grown curious by the commotion in the hall and now witnessed the exchange from the doorway.
“The truth is I killed my sisters!” John Lucas shouted.
But Elizabeth met him in volume.
“You fool! Had you gone back in, I would have had to paint you as well! Your family would have lost even more!”
John Lucas froze as his parents stared at him.
“Is that what you believe, my son? That you failed them? Us?” Lady Lucas asked gently as her son’s posture again slumped under the heavy weight of survivor’s guilt.
Elizabeth caught his eye and silently pleaded with him to listen.
“I never reentered the building. I couldn’t find them in the escape, and then when I realized they were not outside, I didn’t go back in,” he explained.
Sir William Lucas began to berate his son for such foolish thinking as well, enumerating the deaths that came from precisely such foolhardy behavior.
“And I should have been one of them, if not for Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth shared, supporting John’s parents in their logic.
Slowly, John Lucas began to hear their words and admitted that he had carried around an unearned burden of responsibility. Sir William Lucas clasped his son’s shoulders and led him into the parlor, forcing him to finally look at the portrait of Charlotte and Maria properly.
“There, my boy, see? See their smiles? Where they are now, I have no doubt, is a place of happiness and joy. Look at your sisters and know they feel no pain,” he reasoned.
Suddenly feeling as though she was absolutely imposing on the family’s grief, Elizabeth felt relieved when a footman appeared to announce her carriage was ready. Before she could leave, Lady Lucas grasped her hands.
“I forgot to say how sorry I am for your family’s loss. Mrs. Phillips’ light and cheerful disposition will be sorely missed in this community.”
Elizabeth nodded. “My uncle is beside himself with grief. And my mother has struggled to honor her sister while supporting Jane’s engagement.”
Lady Lucas nodded in understanding. “Thank you, not just for the painting, but for confronting John. We had no idea how he felt about that night. He refused to speak of it.”
Weakly, Elizabeth grinned. “None of us want to believe there wasn’t more we could do. But if my sister Jane can find happiness so soon after such a tragedy, maybe there is hope for the rest of us.”
“Indeed,” Lady Lucas agreed. “I should call upon your mother. Perhaps she and I could provide each other comfort.”
“Yes, I believe she would dearly love that. Jane is to marry next week, and I fear she will take it as yet another loss.”
Lady Lucas grimaced and Elizabeth felt embarrassed for reminding her of such a happy event her daughters never experienced. Still, the lady recovered her manners. “Mr. Bingley seems to be a very nice man. He called after the fire to see if our family needed anything after the, after the . . .” she said, struggling to finish her thought.
Shocking poor Lady Lucas out of her melancholy, Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, I would say that is high praise coming from him as I can hardly imagine a moment he hasn’t been at Longbourn making a nuisance of himself!”
Stunned at first by Elizabeth’s rhetoric, Lady Lucas soon joined her daughter’s friend in laughter.
“Your poor father!” she exclaimed and Elizabeth bobbed her head enthusiastically in agreement.
“He has suffered most acutely for my sister’s future happiness,” she stated.
Finally, Lady Lucas followed Elizabeth as she walked towards the door to leave Lucas Lodge.
“I hope you will also come to visit more. I know Charlotte is not here,” Lady Lucas managed, taking a pause as it was new to speak about her daughter in the past tense to others. “I have such fond memories of the two of you growing up. I sincerely hope that you will continue to visit from time to time and allow me to be reminded of those happier days.”
Elizabeth started to promise she would make such an effort, but the words caught in her throat. How could she promise to Lady Lucas she would visit when her hope was to move away with Mr. Darcy? Not wishing for her personal business to become fodder for gossip, she took a moment to look down and make sure she had her shawl and reticule firmly in her hand as though checking before taking her leave.
“Yes, I shall make an effort to visit more and will send a note ahead in case you are not quite up to experiencing those happier moments that day,” she offered, judiciously.
Enjoying the quiet ride back to Longbourn in a rare moment alone in her family’s carriage, Elizabeth allowed the gentle rocking to lull herself into a stupor. She closed her eyes and for once, the horrors of that night did not flash before them. Her heart finally felt unburdened, though she would never have believed her friend Charlotte capable of haunting someone, she laughed to herself as that was precisely how she felt at that moment. Her friend’s spirit asked nothing more, Elizabeth was free.