Mr. Darcy's Refuge (37 page)

Despite the presence of the Gardiners, the room felt empty to Elizabeth once Darcy left. Foreboding filled her each time she looked at her father. She considered retiring to bed early in order to avoid being alone with him, but that would just delay the inevitable and give her a sleepless night as well. No, it would be better to face his wrath and whatever punishment he chose to mete out to her, even if it was to send her back to Longbourn in the morning. At least this time she could count on her uncle to inform Mr. Darcy of her departure, and would not have to worry about his reaction to her absence. Her anxiety rose with each minute that ticked by on the ornate mantelpiece clock. She found herself in the highly unusual position of wishing for some needlework; much as she disliked the exercise, at least it would have kept her hands busy and given her something of a distraction.

Mrs. Gardiner, apparently sensing the tension between the two, requested her husband’s assistance with putting the children to bed. It was not the best of excuses since they all knew it was not the usual custom for the household, but Elizabeth said nothing while Mr. Bennet only raised an eyebrow.

Once they were alone, Mr. Bennet removed his eyeglasses and rubbed the lenses with his handkerchief, holding them up to the light to check for any remaining marks on the glass. He took longer than usual in folding the glasses and wrapping them in the soft cloth. Then he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, as if his eyes pained him.

Elizabeth sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, but tension crawled through her neck and shoulders. This pause filled her with dread. It had felt so much easier to face her father when Darcy had been beside her. She fixed her gaze on the indentation on the cushion beside her where he had sat. If only she could conjure up his presence in reality!

“Well, Lizzy.” Her father’s hand finally left his face, and Elizabeth noticed for the first time how much older he appeared.

She could think of no appropriate response, so she said nothing, instead simply waiting for the scolding to begin.

“I suppose I must withdraw my objection to your engagement.” His mouth twisted as if he had tasted something unpleasant.

Taken by happy surprise, she began to thank him, then reconsidered. His entire countenance told her this was a grudging concession. “I am glad of it, even if you do not seem to be.”

“He left me damned little choice!” Mr. Bennet scowled as he rubbed his hand along the wooden chair arm. “Why else would he insist on taking charge of Lydia’s marriage if not to force me to accede to his own?”

Unreasoning fury filled Elizabeth. “Why are you so determined to misinterpret everything he does? He would have done the same regardless of your attitude. He takes his responsibilities more seriously than you can perhaps imagine, and what is more, I think you
know
it! Would it be so hard for you to admit that he has even one redeeming feature?”

Mr. Bennet shrugged dismissively. “Very well, if you insist. Perhaps he is decent enough in his own way, but rich clothing and fine jewels will not make up for the lack of respect you can expect from him. He comes from a different world, and you will not be happy with him.”

“I have not been happy at Longbourn of late! If we are to speak of respect, why have
you
shown none to me during all this? You do not know him at all, yet you insist on maligning him. You have a grudge against his uncle, that is well and good; but I defy you to show me even one way in which his behavior resembles Lord Matlock! Or perhaps you think
I
should be condemned forever as hopeless merely because my
mother
is silly? He is not his uncle, nor his father, nor anyone but himself! Tell me, do you think my aunt and uncle Gardiner’s judgment to be as faulty as mine? They do not think ill of him, and they know him better than you do! But no, everyone else must be wrong, simply because they hold a different opinion from you!” Elizabeth had lost all judgment in her anger as the words she had held back all these months came tumbling out.

“I am giving you my permission to marry him,” he said heavily. “Do not ask for more than that.”

“Perhaps I should have taken a lesson from Lydia! She seems to have earned your consent much more easily, even though
she
is to marry a worthless, immoral blackguard!”

“Good night, Lizzy.” Mr. Bennet pushed himself up from his chair.

For the first time Elizabeth noticed that his complexion had taken on a greyish tinge. She hurried to take his elbow. “Please, sit down,” she said, in a very different tone. “You are not well. Perhaps some wine will help.” The decanter was nearly empty, but she poured what little remained into a wineglass and handed it to her father. His breathing was shallow. Grimacing, he pressed his hand to his chest.

“Wait here – do not move.” Elizabeth raced up the stairs, holding her skirt up almost to her knees to allow her to move faster. She found Mrs. Gardiner in the nursery, tucking her daughter into bed. Grabbing her aunt’s arm, she cried, “Oh, please come! My father is ill, very ill!”

Mrs. Gardiner took one look at her niece’s face and hurried after her.

***

More than two hours later, Elizabeth’s feet were sore from her constant pacing, but she welcomed the pain. “It was my fault! I was so angry with him.”

Mrs. Gardiner had responded to this so many times that she had given up repeating her reassurances that Elizabeth’s actions had nothing to do with it. “Let us wait to hear what the doctor says. After all, he had an episode similar to this when he first arrived, and the next morning he was quite himself again.”

“I should not have said such things to him. I know it!”

A heavy tread in the hallway presaged the return of Dr. Jenniston. Elizabeth clasped her hands together tightly as the heavyset gentleman appeared in the doorway. Mr. Gardiner set down the newspaper behind which he had been hiding.

“Well, well!” The doctor rubbed his hands together, smiling genially. “Mr. Bennet is resting comfortably now. A little laudanum and a few strategically applied leeches – only a very few! – seem to have done the trick. He will need to rest for at least a week, and nothing stronger than barley broth for him, no matter what he may say, Mrs. Gardiner!”

Mr. Gardiner said, “What is the matter with him?”

“Just a mild heart seizure, a very mild one indeed! He is a fortunate that you called for me so quickly, or it might have been very much worse. But as long as he does not exert himself overmuch, he should be with us for a good many years yet.”

“Oh, thank God!” Elizabeth collapsed into a chair, feeling as if her heart might be having a seizure of its own.

“No need to fret, young lady. A cheerful smile from you will do more for him than any remedy I possess, I am sure! You may give him more laudanum if he complains of pain, and I will return to check on him in the morning. There is just a touch of the dropsy around his ankles, and if that does not improve, he may benefit from a little tincture of digitalis, sweetened suitably with a spoonful of honey. But that question will wait until tomorrow.”

“That is excellent news,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Will you join me in the study for a glass of madeira before you go, Doctor?”

“I don’t mind if I do, sir! Now, don’t forget, Mrs. Gardiner – nothing but barley broth!”

“Nothing but barley broth, I promise.” Mrs. Gardiner laid her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder as the gentlemen departed. “I think we should see if your father is awake. Perhaps you would like to sit with him.”

Elizabeth blinked back the tears that threatened to overflow onto her cheeks. “Yes. I would like that.”

They found Mr. Bennet sleeping, but he roused at the sound of their whispers. Elizabeth was relieved to see that even though he looked pale and a little confused, his face no longer carried the greyish hue that had so worried her earlier.

Elizabeth kissed his cheek. “You gave us quite a scare,” she scolded, but her tone was affectionate.

“Mmm. Sleepy.”

“The doctor gave you laudanum.”

“That… would explain… it.”

She took his hand between both of hers. It felt clammy but warm. Impulsively she said, “I am so sorry that I upset you, papa.”

“No, I… I should not…” His eyes drifted closed briefly, then reopened.

“Don’t try to talk. You should rest. Shall I sit with you?”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before he nodded. A few minutes later, the change in his breathing told Elizabeth he was asleep again.

***

It was full dark when Elizabeth made her way downstairs to find her uncle writing at his desk in the study, a small flickering lamp leaving a pool of light in front of him.

Mr. Gardiner looked up at her approach. “How is he?”

“He woke about half an hour ago and took more laudanum, and now he is sound asleep again. My aunt is sitting with him now.”

“Good. Rest is no doubt the best thing for him.”

“May I ask your advice on something?”

“Of course.” He placed his pen in the inkwell and turned his full attention to her.

“You know that some months ago my father forbade me to write to Mr. Darcy. Do you suppose that, under these changed circumstances, he would object if I wrote to tell him of tonight’s events?”

Mr. Gardiner patted her hand. “No, I do not think he would mind, but it is unnecessary. I sent Darcy a note just after the doctor left, with the suggestion that he call here tomorrow morning.”

Elizabeth felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Of course. This concerns him as well, since we will need to avoid causing your father any distress, and that will mean keeping Wickham away from him. Darcy as well, of course, but I have no doubt he will cooperate in protecting your father, while I cannot say the same for Wickham, or even for Lydia. I would like to wrap this all up as quickly as possible.”

Elizabeth nodded. “That would be for the best.”

***

The lamps were already lit when Darcy arrived home the following evening after a long day comforting Elizabeth, who was still distressed over her father’s ill health and prone to blaming herself for it. It would only be a short leap from that to blaming
him
for the whole situation, so Darcy was determined to be with her as much as possible to circumvent that possibility.

Even his butler looked tired as he greeted Darcy. “Sir, Mr. Jackson is awaiting you in the breakfast room.”

Meeting with a stranger had no appeal. He would have ordered him sent away immediately, except that his butler would not have admitted him in the first place without a reason. “Who is Mr. Jackson and why is he in the breakfast room?”

“He arrived here from Kent today, but he claims to be from Pemberley. The sitting room seemed unsuitable owing to a
person
he brought with him. The breakfast room seemed the safest place.”