Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (102 page)

“Twelfth Night?”  She said over her shoulder and went to address the maid who appeared, ordering bathwater to be brought up.  Judge Darcy stood still, staring at her.  “Sir?”

“Something was to happen on Twelfth night, I think.” 

“No doubt a great many things!”  She went into the dressing room and took out some towelling and bath soap.  “Would you rather wait for Carson?  There is a cauldron of water warming now for the laundry, but we can do that later.  Lucy will start carrying the buckets up now . . .”

“Yes . . . no . . . as soon as possible.”  He sank onto a chair.  He felt horrible, his hands shook, he swore that his hair hurt, and he knew that it was withdrawal from the laudanum.  “Months.”  He whispered.  “What have you done in that time?”  Slowly things began coming back to him, Georgiana, Darcy, his marriage . . . Wickham . . .  “He is in that basement, still, I am sure . . .”  He rested his head in his hands as details became clearer.  “I should have just called the colonel when I found him.  Well, I will do that now . . . no, he went to Pemberley with Samuel.  I . . .”  He startled when Mrs. Morgan appeared with the letters and a tray with coffee and a bowl of soup. 

“You haven’t eaten a decent meal in ages, sir.  Now you finish that up and you will be ready for that bath.”

“Thank you.”  He looked at Susan’s handwriting and picked up his spoon.  The warm soup trickled down his throat and instantly feeling nauseous, he stopped eating.  A series of splashes from the bathroom made him lift his head.  “That will feel good.”  Rising, he went into the dressing room and watched the buckets being emptied into the tub.  “That is enough.”  The maids disappeared and he pulled off the nightshirt and sank into the tub.  There was barely three inches of water but it was all he needed.  Washing, he began to feel a little more human, and his mind started going over the few memories he could easily find.  “Twelfth Night . . .”  He soaped his hair and leaning down, splashed water over his head, then sat up suddenly.  “Twelfth Night . . . Wickham . . . Georgiana . . . 
What is it
?”  Searching desperately for something he knew was very important; he stared out of the doorway and into his bedchamber.  Blinking his eyes, he felt a familiar memory cross his mind and he envisioned his brother leaning against the bedpost.  He stood and grabbed a towel, hurriedly drying and pulling the bell cord violently, Mrs. Morgan appeared.  Her eyes widened to see her master’s wet emaciated body. 

Looking to her feet, she whispered, “Yes, sir?”

“The carriage!  Immediately!  I am going out!”

“Out sir?”

“Immediately.”  He began tearing through the drawers and she dashed into the hallway, calling the lone footman to hurry and help the master to shave and dress, then she called a maid to run to the mews and have the carriage brought around.  “Going out.  You need Mrs. Darcy, is what you need.”  Carson appeared in the doorway and she barked at him.  “Look what you’ve done to the master!  Laudanum!  Who were you to be ladling that down his throat!  You knew what it would do to him!”

“It worked before.”  Carson was white as a ghost, watching his master suffer.  “I . . . I guess that I used too much . . .”

“Too much!  When Mrs. Darcy tells you to never give the master something, you listen!  Fool!” 

“Leave me be!”  Judge Darcy barked.  “Let me think!” 

“Can I be of help, sir?”  Carson hovered around him. 

“You can help me to dress.”  He groaned and sank to his knees.  “Oh . . . damn!”  The room spun and he closed his eyes as he felt a seizure coming on.  “Stop this, stop it!”

Come on, Harding, snap out of it!

“George?”  He swallowed as the odd smell and swirling lights seemed to dissipate.   “George?  Where do I need to go?” 

Carson and Mrs. Morgan looked at each other.  “Sir?”

His vision improving, Judge Darcy felt Carson helping him to his feet.  “When my head is clear, we are going to have a very long talk, Carson.  Now . . . get me dressed.”

Mrs. Morgan reached out for him as he stumbled.  “Sir!  You cannot leave!”

“I must.”  He swallowed and clutching his stomach, focussed on the bedpost.  “I pray to find that I am only remembering a nightmare.”

Chapter 31

D
arcy stood before the finely carved book stand and opening the ancient family Bible, was grateful to see that many blank pages remained.  “This should last another hundred years.”  He murmured as he read over the names, shifting from d’Arcy to Darcy.  “What will the world be like then?”  Returning to the last inscribed page, he picked up his pen and dipped it into the inkpot.  With his precise hand, he inscribed next to his name:

Married 30 November 1811 St. Andrew’s, Meryton, Elizabeth Rose Bennet, born 16 August 1791(Thomas and Francine Bennet, Longbourn, Hertfordshire)

He bent and gently blew over the ink to dry.  “There, love.  Your name is where it belongs.”  A feeling of great satisfaction filled his breast and looking over the remaining space, he wondered whose names he would add there one day, their sons and daughters, grandchildren.  His lips lifted in his small smile and his gaze travelled back up the page to see his parents’ names and the two children who were born to them.  “May our attempts be blessed, Lizzy.  I know you are sad that they have not been already.”  Fixing on his sister’s name he wondered what, if anything; would ever be entered for her child, or where it would belong.  Darcy looked to his parents’ names as if seeking advice, and focussed on his mother.  “Anne Fitzwilliam.” 

Unbidden, images of Hunsford Church filled his mind and he could see himself standing stiffly at the altar as his cousin advanced towards him on Lord Matlock’s arm.  Anne’s cold hand would have been placed in his, they would have vowed to love, but it would have been words without meaning.  He would have put the ring on her finger and he would have felt his life ebb away with the symbolic seal of their union. His eyes closed and the vision of Anne’s expression of possession was replaced by his aunt’s triumphant smirk.  A horrifying picture of his wedding night came to mind and his fingers immediately began twisting his ring.

Two arms slipped around his waist and he jumped so violently that the inkpot nearly spilled.  “Will!”  Elizabeth laughed and steadying the container, hugged him.  “My goodness, where were you?” 

Darcy’s freezing hands dropped down to clasp her warm fingers tightly and he breathed out a very audible and shaky sigh of relief.  “It is you.” 

“Who else would accost you in such a way?  Now tell me, what are you doing?  I would peek over your shoulder, but as you can imagine, I am at a considerable height disadvantage.”

“Imagining your petite form looking around my shoulder is a very welcome occupation for me at this moment, love.”  Darcy unclasped her hands and turned to face her.  “Smile.”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled.  “Was I frowning?” 

“Tease me.”  He commanded seriously.

Her hand went to her mouth and she laughed harder.  “And what do you suggest I do?  I cannot simply conjure a tease, you must tempt me with some ridiculous statement, although, you asking to be teased just might qualify . . .” Reaching up to caress his hair, she studied his eyes.  

“Kiss me.”  He cupped her face with both hands.

“You are full of orders to . . .” She was silenced by his mouth.  What began as demanding and possessive ended with gentle caressing strokes.  Elizabeth sighed as Darcy’s arms wound around her and he tucked her head under his chin.  “What brought that on?”

“Does it matter?”  He kissed her hair.

“It does if I want to have it frequently repeated.”  Hearing his chuckle, she smiled up at him but still studied his expression.  “So, what have you been doing?”

“Look.”  Turning her around, he showed her the Bible.  “There, you see, now you are permanently in the Darcy family record.”

“Oh my!”  She beamed back at him and received a kiss in return.  “How old is this?”  Curiously she turned back the delicate pages, reading the names of relatives from the distant past.  “This is a King James Bible.”

“Yes, I understand it was one of the first printed.”  He pointed at the first page of names.  “I suppose that these first entries were all done at once, you see that the handwriting is all the same and the spelling so odd?”  Darcy turned the pages forward, “And here the style is different and seems to be that way as each family grew.”

“So many died young.  So many children.”  She said softly as she read dates of births and noted the frightening number of women who died on or near the same date as their babies.

“Things are much improved now, love.”  Darcy said determinedly.  “They did not have the medical knowledge we have.” 

“It is just sobering.” 

“Look here.”  Darcy turned away from the family pages and into the text.  “See these illustrations?  Are they not beautiful?  Imagine the man bent over this hundreds of years ago.”   He passed his hand over the page.  “Look, gold leaf . . . this must have cost a small fortune when it was first purchased, I cannot imagine such a thing being produced now.”

“They are stunning, Will.”  Elizabeth said while gently caressing the frown on his lips.  Their eyes met and he kissed her fingertips.  “When did you last read this book?”

“Oh,” he gratefully grasped the new subject, “we were never permitted to read from here, it is far too fragile.  In fact I think that it is only ever opened to record life events.  The last time I opened it was to note Father’s passing.”  He closed the enormous book and turned to another.  “This is the . . . living Bible, if you will.”

Elizabeth laughed.  “The one you may read?  Our book at home is much thumbed; in fact, messages from preceding generations are stuck inside.   Papa and I would sometimes read them together, laughing over what his ancestors thought were vitally important things for us to know.” A look of resignation crossed her face.

Darcy hugged her.  “We have something of a tradition as well, leaving notes, though not in the Bible . . .” Relinquishing her waist, he walked across the library and stood before a bookshelf, scanning the volumes.  “Ah, here it is.”  He took down a richly bound book.  “I have not opened this in; oh I must have been still at Cambridge.  I had to settle a bet with a schoolmate over an important point.”

“And what was that?”  She looked around his shoulder at the written history of the Darcys. 

“Which estate was older.”  He laughed when she sighed.  “Luckily he was visiting since Father forbade this from ever leaving the room.”

“Will I meet this gentleman and hear tales of your youth?”  She tilted her head.

“I hope not.”  His eyes twinkled and he set the book down.  “I wonder if he would recognize me.” 

“I take that as a compliment to my affect on you.” 

“Of course you do.”  Laughing, he held her shoulders and leaned into her.

“Oh, am I interrupting?”  Georgiana hesitated at the door.  “The carriage is here.”

“No, you are not interrupting.”  Darcy’s expression lost its brightness.  “Shall we ladies?”  Elizabeth walked in front of him and they went to the foyer to don their coats, and soon they were on their way to Lambton. 

The visit to the village was part of Elizabeth’s master plan.  First and foremost, she felt that the Darcy family needed to do something together outside of the manor, and second, she had thought of a useful occupation for her sister besides her music. 

Darcy learned what that occupation was when he heard Elizabeth enquire about patterns for baby clothes. Both he and Georgiana started and blushed, but Elizabeth was speaking animatedly with the shopkeeper about always making clothes for older children since babies outgrow their first outfits so quickly.  She spoke comfortably of making clothes for the tenants’ children and he managed to catch Georgiana’s expression.  She looked very alone. 

He stepped to where she stood away from Elizabeth and spoke softly, “She is quite subtle, is she not?  The way that she forces us to face the inevitable?”

“She is not so subtle to me.”  Georgiana said quietly.

“Good.”  He met her eye and nodded to the ladies.  “Go on then, join in.”  Uncomfortably, Georgiana moved forward and immediately Elizabeth asked her thoughts on some point of sewing.  Darcy waited near the front of the dress shop with his hands clasped behind his back, uncomfortably rubbing his ring through his glove, and watched the people passing on the main street.  He listened to his wife consulting her sister about fabrics and stitching techniques, and admitted to himself that she was speaking a foreign tongue, but it was one that Georgiana clearly understood well.  Gradually the conversation seemed to include her opinions more often than monosyllabic answers. 

Very good
.  Darcy saw Elizabeth looking his way and he smiled at her when she shrugged and sent her eyes to the ceiling.  He felt a little of the tension ease with her warm gaze and when she returned to the conversation, he looked back out of the window and let his mind wander to other subjects, and thought of taking the ladies to the tavern for some warm cider.  Darcy smiled when he recognized Samuel’s horse tied up outside of Mr. Mayfield’s office and wondered how the negotiations were going.

The halting gait of a young woman carrying a heavy basket caught his attention and he watched her approach the steps of the church and glancing around, set down her burden and run away.  Curious, Darcy followed her progress and saw her climb into a gig with a man.  His gaze returned to the basket. 
I wonder what that is about?  Perhaps a gift of food for the poor? 

Georgiana joined him while Elizabeth paid for their purchases.  “What is that, Brother?” 

“A girl left a basket at the church and then drove off in quite a hurry.”   

“A basket?”  Elizabeth touched his arm and he looked down to see her holding a package and frowning.  “Where?”

He pointed as he took the package from her.  “Just there, do you see?  On the church steps?  It could be a donation but how they would know it was there is beyond me, she did not knock.” 

“Oh no.”  Elizabeth opened the door to the shop, the bells jangling madly in her rush to exit.  Paying no heed to the traffic or people’s stares, she dodged mud and manure.  Darcy dropped the parcel in Georgiana’s hands and went after her.  Elizabeth ran across the road and up the street, and finally reaching the basket, bent down then arose with a baby in her arms.