Memory: Volume 1, Lasting Impressions, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (53 page)

“Is Mr. Harwick rethinking his courtship to Jane?”  Mrs. Gardiner asked quietly.

“I asked Fitzwilliam last night, and he said that he was discouraged.  All Jane can focus on is the way that men respond to me.  I do not know what to do.  I have dealt with her being the centre of men’s attention for years and while I wished it for myself, I certainly did not hold it against her!”  Elizabeth twisted a napkin then tossed it on the table and clasped her hands together.  “Forgive me, Aunt.  I do not know what to do.  I know how important this match is for Jane, but she just seems to take it for granted that it will happen without any effort on her part, and I am afraid that if it does not, she will lay the blame on me.”

“I see.”  Mrs. Gardiner squeezed her hand and smiled.  “It seems that I need to step in between you girls.  How was the night otherwise?”

Elizabeth managed to smile.  “Overwhelming, but wonderful.”

“Good.  I look forward to hearing every detail.  Mr. Darcy is very happy with you, Lizzy.”  She left the table and walked upstairs to where Jane sat at the writing table.  “Writing home?”

“Yes, I owed Mama a letter.”  She set down the pen as Mrs. Gardiner closed the door, then sat on the bed.

“Your sister is very upset.”

Jane cast her eyes down and spoke softly.  “I do not mean to upset her.”

“Then why do you continue to pour cold water over her happiness?  I have heard enough mean comments from you to think I was speaking to Lydia.  This is not your nature, Jane.  What is bothering you?”

Jane stared back at her letter and spoke quietly.  “She seems to have every man looking at her.” 

“You are not used to that.  Do you know why they look?  She is lovely, just as you are, despite your mother’s opinion.”  Mrs. Gardiner noted Jane’s confusion.  “Lizzy simply needed to grow into her features, although Mr. Darcy apparently knew when he saw her at fifteen.”

“Yes.” 

Mrs. Gardiner heard the bitterness in her tone and understood.  “Did that upset you, knowing that he was not at all attracted to you then?  Is that why you slight him and his attentions towards Lizzy?  He is deeply in love, Jane.  Even the most well-behaved man will display his feelings eventually if he feels as strongly as Mr. Darcy does, and as long as he is discreet, your uncle and I will not chastise him.  The question is; why do you?”

“I should be the first married.  I was the one to save the family and do my duty.”  She said petulantly.  “Mama told me that I am so beautiful for a reason.”

Mrs. Gardiner held back her thoughts that they should be grateful if any of them married.  “Well, you have an outstanding suitor paying you court, but I wonder if he will continue much longer.  He seems undecided to me, and this is before meeting your father.  Mr. Stewart left when the family became too much, and Mr. Darcy stayed because he loves Lizzy enough to ignore them.  Mr. Harwick is no young lover with stars in his eyes.  He is a father, a widower, and a master.  He has no reason to fight his feelings if you have given him no encouragement.”

“How can I give him encouragement when he smiles at Lizzy all of the time?”  She cried out. 

“Oh, is that it?”  Mrs. Gardiner shook her head at her naive niece.  “Jane, Mr. Harwick is still mourning his wife.  Did it ever occur to you that Lizzy reminds him of her?  Looking at Lizzy smile and laugh gives him some comfort.”

“It does?”  She whispered.

“I have seen the man watch Lizzy and Mr. Darcy.  A sad smile appears, and I have no doubt at all that he is remembering his days with his deceased wife.  He chose you because you are different from her, I am positive, but even that resolve to marry someone opposite of his first love will not be enough to settle his decision on you.  What can you offer him besides a wan smile?  I tell you, if he sees your jealous behaviour towards your sister, he will not think that you would be a good example for his daughters.”  Mrs. Gardiner stood up and looked her in the eye.  “Your sister loves you and has been doing her best to encourage you, and you reward her with envy and spite.  It is not attractive.  Your mother was incorrect.  You do need more than a smile to win a man.  You have done nothing to educate yourself, but you can sing if you choose, you can sew, you can provide pleasant company if you would speak.  I suggest that you apologize to Lizzy and ask her for help before it is too late.”

“WHAT IS THIS?”  Lord Matlock took the note from his valet and with a groan, settled in his shaving chair.  He opened it and sat up just as the blade was about to sweep his face.  “Good Lord!”  He leapt up and ran to his wife’s room, and into her bath.  “Helen!”

“What has gotten into you Henry!”  She cried.  He shooed out the maid and slammed the door shut. 

“This was waiting for me.  From Darcy!”  He tried to give her the note and she glared at him.  He stayed still long enough to hold the letter over her bath water so she could read, at least until the shaving soap began to drip off of his face and onto the page.  Her mouth dropped open as Lord Matlock waved the ruined letter.  “I suspected she was addled in some way, but I thought it was the weakness from the illnesses, Catherine never let on about this, this, condition!”

“Well, we need to go over there right away.  Go get shaved and dressed, he asks us to come for breakfast.  We can be there in an hour if we hurry.”

“We will be there sooner than that!”  He stood up and threw the door of the bath room open with a bang.  “Good Lord!” 

A few streets away, Darcy blinked his eyes.  He had found no peace; he could not sleep in that bed again, ever.  He intended to have the room scoured from floor to ceiling and as soon as the staff was awake to boil water, he had his valet scrub him raw. He felt violated and sick, and spent the remainder of the night drinking, resisting the urge to drag his aunt from her bed and demand an explanation before throwing her into her carriage and out of his home.  What stopped him was realizing that seeing one female de Bourgh in her nightdress was all he could stomach for one evening.

Mrs. Mercer found him when she began her duties, and had already been informed of the predawn activities by Darcy’s valet, who was summoned by the footman to aid his distraught master.  The housekeeper plied him with strong coffee, and informed him that the staff had been warned not to speak a word, and she even took the unprecedented step of reassuring him that the staff felt that he had done nothing untoward.  Darcy took that news in silently and thanked her, and then told her to destroy the bed linens in his room and that he would replace the mattress, draperies, everything associated with the bed, and spoke of replacing the furniture as well.  Then he informed her that he would be sleeping in the mistress’s room until further notice and asked not to be disturbed until his relatives arrived.  Mrs. Mercer took it all in without a flinch. 

After his bath, when Darcy first returned to the study, he composed a short note to Elizabeth, telling her that he would be unable to call that afternoon, and apologized, begging for her forgiveness.  He sent the note off with a servant, and stared down at his hands, knowing that the forgiveness he sought was not for breaking their appointment, but for holding another woman in their bed. 

His exhausted mind punished him again.  “I must confess this to her, but will she reject me?  She was so certain that I would leave her behind after meeting her family.  I had to convince her I would allow nothing to come between us.  Will she stay by me through this?  Will she believe me?”  He sank into his thoughts and barely registered the knock when it came.  Cautiously Foster opened the door but it was pushed hard when Lord Matlock impatiently entered. 

“Darcy, what the devil happened?”  He demanded.

“Uncle, Aunt, thank you for coming.”  Darcy rose and approached them. 

Lady Matlock brushed the hair from his bloodshot and drooping eyes.  “You look terrible dear, come and sit down.”  She led him willingly to a sofa and pulling up a chair; Lord Matlock sat and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Well?”

Darcy told them the events of the night, beginning with the barely announced arrival and Lady Catherine’s objections to Elizabeth.  He indicated that Anne had made advances upon his person but did not speak of her state of dress.  He did tell of her fluctuation in mood and what Mrs. Jenkinson had said of her illness.  “Did you know of this?”

Lord Matlock studied him, knowing that he was holding back, the man was incapable of deceit, and his sorrow was evident.  “We certainly knew of the fevers and the recurring illness.  We know that the rheumatic fever will make her heart weaker each time and that it will likely take her life one day, but as to the other . . .I suspected something was hidden from us, but she has never been in this drug-induced state when we visited, has she Helen?”

“No, but I remember that Catherine was careful to keep conversation about you to times when Anne was not present.  Where is Catherine?  Does she know of this?”

“I wrote a note, she should have received it by now.”  Darcy said tiredly.  “Anne is still asleep, I believe.  I want them gone from my home as soon as possible.”  His relatives exchanged glances.

“I cannot disagree with that at all.  I will go up to Catherine.”  Lady Matlock stood and kissed Darcy’s cheek. “You did everything properly.”

When she left Lord Matlock saw Darcy staring at his hands.  “What are you not saying, Son?  Get it off of your chest before it eats you alive.  Did you and your cousin . . .”

“No sir, we did not, but in my sleep I imagined it was Elizabeth in my arms.  I woke from a beautiful dream to find myself in a nightmare.”  He closed his eyes and fought back his emotion.  “I have betrayed her.”

Lord Matlock gripped his arm. “No, I will not accept that.  You had no idea, and you escaped as soon as you had your faculties, did you not?”

“Yes.”  He whispered and swallowed hard.  “Elizabeth asked me about my behaviour with women . . . I assured her I had never taken a mistress, but I dodged telling her I was not without experience.”

“Darcy, the girl is not naive, of course she expects you to be experienced!  You have kissed her have you not?”

“Yes.”  He said wistfully.

“And you were not a bumbling fool?”

“I hope not.”  He looked away and tried to hide the tear that escaped and ran down his cheek.  Lord Matlock sat back and looked at him with amazement.  He could compare the emotion his nephew was feeling to nothing he had ever experienced. 

“And I thought that I loved Helen.”  He said softly.  Darcy did not hear him.  “Son.  I realize that it is useless to tell you to lock this up in your breast forever.  You will tell her, but if she feels for you half of what you display for her, I know that she will understand.  Would you not do the same for her?”

He thought of how many times he imagined Stewart with her, even though he knew that man had never done any more than kiss her hand.  “Yes, but the man would be dead.”

Lady Matlock reappeared.  “Catherine is with Anne.  I told her that you wanted to speak with her before she leaves.  She asked that you meet in a half-hour.  Perhaps we can go eat a little something before then, you look as if you could use some solid food.”  She gently stroked his brow and smiled.  “You need your strength.”

“She feels no remorse, does she?”  Lord Matlock asked. 

“She expressed no emotion.”  She took Darcy’s hand.  “Come dear.”

“I could not hold anything down.”  He whispered.  “You go ahead.” 

“No.  Up you go.”  Lord Matlock stuck his hand under his arm and dragged him upright.  “I will not have you fainting when you need to vent your anger.”  They walked off to the dining room, and under the unrelenting attention of his relatives, Darcy forced down a small meal.  Foster appeared and bowed. 

“Sir, Lady Catherine awaits your pleasure in the blue room.”

“My pleasure.”  Darcy stood and threw his napkin down.  “That is laughable.”  He was up and on his way, the others scrambled to follow.  They entered the drawing room and Lady Matlock closed the door.  Lady Catherine was ensconced in the largest chair, her hands folded and her chin up, prepared for battle.  Darcy did not hesitate.  “What was in your mind, Aunt?  Bringing your deranged daughter into my home?  Clearly you have known of her delusions for years, and hid them from the family. Are you as ill as she?  Must we find an asylum to hold you both?”

“How dare you address me this way!”  She snapped.

“I will address you any way I wish.  I want an explanation, and I want it now!”  Darcy bellowed. 

“He is not alone, Catherine.  What has happened to your daughter, and why would you try to foist her onto Darcy?  What was your plan in bringing her here?”  Lord Matlock glowered down at his sister.  “And none of this imperious manner, Catherine.  I will not have it.”

Catherine looked from one face to another.  “I understand that Mrs. Jenkinson has betrayed my trust.”

“Mrs. Jenkinson is a loyal servant and if she finds herself without a position by your hand, I will be sure that all she has said of Anne is broadcast throughout society.”  Lord Matlock declared.

“You would not!”

“No, but nor would you dismiss her because she knows too much.  I told you to drop the posturing!” 

“Enough of this dancing!”  Darcy began to pace.  “What is wrong with her?”

Lady Catherine shot a look at her glowering brother and backed down.  “Anne suffered from very high fevers as a girl, and nearly died.  She contracted rheumatic fever, and was bled many times to relieve her temperature, and eventually the treatment worked.  She recovered, but it seems that the days she spent in that state affected her mind somehow.  At first her physician thought that her fanciful thoughts would disappear as she continued to recover, and they did somewhat.  She had to relearn some skills, but was never able to play the pianoforte again.  The fever reappeared from time to time, making her weaker and weaker.”  She sighed and glanced at Darcy.  “Then my sister died.  I had mentioned to her what a fine thing it would be to see you cousins marry, and she said that she would not force such a thing on you.  She had an arranged marriage, but had been fortunate to fall in love with her husband, and hoped for the same for her children.  I waited a few years after she died and brought the subject up with your father.  You see by then I knew that Anne was too weak to marry and be a wife to any man, and suspected she would not survive childbirth.”