Mr. Darcy's Great Escape (12 page)

“The second time, I believe it was in a store. Darcy went down, and their first concern was his head, but he wasn't concussed. In fact, once they brought him around, he seemed fine. But as my mother told me later that night, the Darcys had decided that there was something in the air in Town—which, after all, is very bad—that was bothering his little lungs, and they must retire immediately to better climate. I was very upset, but I was too old to be throwing tantrums. I didn't see him again until that Easter for our annual visit to Rosings, and he told me he was fine and didn't want to talk about it. I can't remember the topic ever being broached again. I assume, the next time he was in Town, he was fine.”

Elizabeth digested this story with her tea, which had cooled during the conversation. “Darcy has never told me this.”

“I don't imagine he would. He was a small child. He may not even remember it. And nothing came of it.”

“But it is an… odd coincidence, don't you think?” Anne said.

“If you don't mind my asking, Mrs. Darcy—has Geoffrey ever—”

“No. And he's been to Town for his cousins' birthdays. I can't imagine—” It was a frightful thing to imagine, something strange happening to her son and the doctors not having an answer. But then again, as Fitzwilliam insisted, nothing had come of it. Still, she would ask Dr. Maddox about it when he returned.

When
he returned, not
if,
she reminded herself.

The Purest Love

“Mrs. Darcy? Are you awake?”

She was. Despite the late hour, Elizabeth was sitting on the rug in the corner of her room, trying to find her balance despite her illness. Fortunately it was only her lady-maid, whom she held in the highest confidence out of sheer necessity. “Yes. Come in.”

Hannah entered and bowed. “Mrs. Darcy, do you need something?”

“Some of that ginger tea?”

“Of course. Lady Catherine is calling for you. Do you wish me to say you're asleep?”

Elizabeth put her hand on her forehead. “No—I will speak to her. I just need a moment to collect myself.” She couldn't possibly have anything left in her stomach. She'd hardly eaten anything today. Hannah was instantly gathering a shawl to cover her and helping her up. Her lady's illness and its origin was a secret kept only between the two of them—at least for the moment. Fortunately, there was no one qualified to notice the signs and not chalk them up to nervousness about her husband's situation. Anne and Georgiana had never been with child, Lord Richard lacked the expertise for obvious reasons, and Lady Catherine rarely left her sitting room. Elizabeth managed to carry her own candlestick, but she needed some assistance staying on her feet until she reached Lady Catherine's quarters, and was ushered in by her ladyship's servants.

Lady Catherine was sitting up in bed, her hair in knots and uncovered.

“Lady Catherine? Are you well?”

“Mrs. Darcy,” she replied. Her physical appearance did not match her voice, which was full of vibrancy. “The question is—are
you
well?”

“I am, Lady Catherine.”

“May I see your daughter?”

She did not comment on the oddity of the question. “Which one, Your Ladyship?”

“The one I have not met—your youngest.”

“Sarah. Yes, if you wish,” Elizabeth said, and motioned for a servant to approach, to whom she whispered that her sleeping daughter be brought to her. Sarah Darcy was now eight months old and slept through the night—if uninterrupted.

Her daughter was not kept far from her and was quickly available. Sarah was still asleep when she was passed to her mother's careful arms and then Lady Catherine's. She held her grandniece in her arms until Sarah showed signs of stirring, and she passed her off to the servant. “A strong child. She will most likely survive.”

“Thank you, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth said, knowing it was best to take her compliments where she could get them.

“All of your children born have survived—that is quite an accomplishment. Your boisterous nature and my nephew's good breeding seem to have made a good combination.” Before Elizabeth could comment, she went on, “My sister was the quieter of the two of us. Isn't it odd how traits seem to skip around in families of their own will? I was the insistent one, and yet it did nothing for my children.” Without missing a beat, she met Elizabeth's blank stare. “Close your mouth, you silly girl. I had four of them. Anne was the only one who lived past infancy.”

“I apologize, Lady Catherine; I had no idea—”

“There's no reason to go unburying old stories that are better where they lay, Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Catherine said, but for a moment her voice was not so arrogant, her tone not so forceful. “Your generation will have your share. As I failed to produce an heir, I tried at least to guide the rest of the family—and look where it left me.”

“Your daughter is happily married, as are both your nephews,” Elizabeth said, for once not to be mean or clever, but to state the comforting fact. “I would prefer that over many relations in unhappy circumstances, no matter how they benefit the family lineage.”

Lady Catherine said nothing for a long moment. Elizabeth even thought she was in danger of nodding off in her chair herself, so exhausted from her illness and from constantly worrying for her husband. Only her aunt's sharp voice woke her from her doze. “You should hope for a boy, of course, if something happens to Geoffrey. Oh, there was a name I never thought I would be saying with any affection again. Fitzwilliam was of course unknowing of his father's nature when he named his son after him.”

“Darcy does hold his father in great esteem,” Elizabeth said, “even to this day. No man is without faults.”

“And would you tolerate the same particular one in your own husband?”

“Oh God, no,” Elizabeth said before she could stop herself.

“I was not raised to expect a husband to be faithful,” Lady Catherine said. “Lewis was. This was because he dropped dead promptly before he had time to develop any interest in another woman. He literally fell over like that—right on the staircase.” Despite the subject, there was no pain or anger in her voice. Elizabeth did not know how to respond, and said nothing until Lady Catherine and she both broke into simultaneous laughter.

“That is your choice, Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Catherine said with a smile. “You can have a few children who pop up as adults and scare the daylights out of you, or you can have Darcy take a spill on his great estate.”

“If those are my only choices, it is a wonder that anyone is eager to be married at all!”

More laughter. Lady Catherine had some of the cold tea that was sitting in a cup by her bed stand.

“Mrs. Darcy, I do feel for you sometimes,” Lady Catherine said, “when my senses don't get the better of me. Shameful familial connections, multiple bastard brother-in-laws—however good one of them may be—a meddling aunt through marriage, and now, a husband who apparently requires a leash to keep him in England.”

“It is a shame, then, that your senses do not more regularly fail you.”

“Yes. We might even come to some understanding, then,” she said, leaning back a bit more. “Good night, Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth rose and curtseyed. “Lady Catherine.” With her eyes already closed, Lady Catherine failed to notice when Elizabeth bused her teacup, taking it out of the room and shutting the door behind her before taking a sip.

Just as she thought, tea with a healthy helping of brandy.

***

Charles Bingley arrived to his own bedchamber late. Jane had done her best to stay awake, an admirable effort that ended with her head still on the pillow in a doze, a book still in her hands, and the candle still lit beside her. He smiled and snuffed out her candle before climbing into bed beside her. He had no initial intention of waking her. She did that job herself, rolling over so she was leaning on his shoulder. “What is the time?”

“Late,” he said. “I'm sorry—I was caught up in ledgers.”

“Are you going to Town this week?”

“Maybe. I've not decided.”

“But you do want to do this.”

“Ideally, yes,” he said, “but the timing is exceptionally poor. I don't want to leave you here with my sister.”

“Charles!” Jane said, waking up from the stimulation of conversation. “Your sister is not so terrible!”

“I know you wouldn't think that,” he said, kissing her knuckles. “And she is—more like her old self, now that she is settled.”

“Her old self?”

“When we were younger, before she was out. Everything was different when my sisters went out. It comes with being the baby in the family.”

“My poor Charles,” she said, stroking his hair. She did love his hair, which was more of a bright orange. She loved it in her first daughter, even if Georgiana had to be forced to brush it. “Whatever did you do?”

“I remember moping quite a bit. I'm sure Caroline would be happy to expound on the subject without any prompting whatsoever,” he said. “Still, that was not precisely what I meant. I do not want to leave you so, constantly with six children, while I go on some business adventure for my own amusement.”

“You will hardly be leaving me all alone. Do you forget so easily that I was raised with one maid and no governess?”

“You misunderstand me,” Bingley said. “I mean—I will be leaving
you
alone.” He kissed her to reinforce the point. It seemed to have the desired effect. It was very hard to respond to that with a contradiction, especially with his hand softly running down her chest.

“Charles,” she whispered softly. “Should we?”

“Why not?”

“Because—it seems unfair.”

He had to search to find his answer. “My dear, suffering alongside Elizabeth and Caroline will not make this time go by any faster. We love them, we support them, but we don't have to be them.” He frowned. “Plus I'd rather not think about this subject in concerns to my sister or yours. It does bring about distasteful imagery.”

She giggled. “Now I'm thinking of it! Charles!”

“At least we are of the same mind, the same disquieting mind.” He kissed her cheek. “If you think our own abstention will bring Darcy and the doctor back faster, then I will respect your wishes. But we have no evidence of it, or evidence of the contrary being true.” He blinked. “I think I just confused myself.”

Jane laughed and kissed him. “Your argument was convincing nonetheless.”

That, he would not argue with.

***

Darcy coughed into the hay. More specifically, it was a hack, enough to prick Dr. Maddox's ears. “Darcy.”

“What?” he replied, annoyed at the intrusion, taking a sip of his drink. “It's all this damn hay and dust. And the fact that I'm freezing and haven't had a bath in… how long?”

“I've no idea.”

Darcy sighed and settled on the more clean and comfortable part of his haystack. Though Dr. Maddox insisted he get up and walk around at least once a day, it was getting harder and harder to do that. Aside from the guard, who didn't speak a word of German, they saw no one.

“Where were we?”

“In which one?”

“
Tristan and Isolde
,” Darcy said. “Why do you like that story so much? It ends horribly.”

“Most of them do. And yet it is the tale of true, perfect love.”

“Wasn't that love induced by a magic potion and not meant to happen in the first place?”

“I believe we covered that part, on the ship. But what love is logical and ‘meant to happen'? Does it not sneak up on us? Was the potion not just a device for that idea?”

“I've not thought of this as thoroughly as you, I confess. But I will admit to love sneaking up on me and not going to plan.”

“There was a plan?”

“Your wife had a plan, at one time, a thoroughly comprehensive one.”

Dr. Maddox did not get up or move in any way, so his expression was not visible. “Oh yes. You were to marry her, and Charles, Georgiana. Bad luck for you.”

“What? I am perfectly happy in my choices, Doctor!”

Dr. Maddox didn't turn, but Darcy could practically hear him smiling as he said, “I would put a considerable amount of money on the idea that Caroline does things that your country beauty would
never
do.”

“What do you—Oh! God, Maddox, you bastard, for putting horrible thoughts into my head! Intentionally!” His anger only rose as Dr. Maddox chuckled. “If I wanted to know what improper lows Caroline Bingley would stoop to, I would have married her!”

“Why didn't you?”

“Because she was a viperous snake!”

“A viper
is
a snake. It cannot be an adjective.”

“You know what I mean! Are you blind, man?”

Without flinching, Dr. Maddox said, “Not yet.”

“Besides, it would be like—like jumping Bingley.”

“Very funny, coming from you.”

“
Shut up
!” Darcy swung his bottle against the bars. “What happened to the shy, modest doctor I met in Town?”

“He came to the defense of his favorite piece of literature and his favorite person in the world through a series of rather low blows. And he's aware that you've still not built up a tolerance for whatever they're giving us, so he can say what he likes without real fear of recrimination, you
lush
.”

Darcy growled and turned away. “I'm not talking to you anymore.”

“Very well. And I had just remembered where we were in the story.”

“Where were we?”

“They had arrived in Wales. Would you like me to continue or not?”

“Maybe. But only to pass the time, not because I'm wanting to talk to you.”

“Of course,” Dr. Maddox said, and continued.