Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (104 page)

“You dropped this, sir.”  Samuel smiled and handed it to him.

“Thank you.”  Wickham placed it back on the table.

“Come on, Darcy . . .” Mayfield put his hand on his shoulder.  “I have that letter for your father . . .”  

Wickham stared at the broad back as Samuel left the tavern with the two men.  He could feel his heart pounding.  The build, the features, the hair was Darcy’s, but the eyes . . .

“He didn’t know you!”  Christmas hissed and looked out of the window at them.

“That wasn’t him.”  Wickham picked up his tankard and took a shaky swallow.  “That was . . . I think that was his cousin, Judge Darcy’s son.  I haven’t seen him since George Darcy died.  He was just starting at Cambridge.”  Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the chair. 
I didn’t say anything . . . I could have said something, why didn’t I?  He surely knows my name, if not my face.
  He watched Samuel enter the office across the street for a minute then reappear to climb onto a horse. 

“So that is the son all this is being done for?”  Christmas watched Samuel thoughtfully, wondering if maybe he could threaten his life if the judge did not come through for his brother.  “Well, that was a close call.  Don’t know what we would have done if that was him.”

Wickham startled from his thoughts and blew out his cheeks.  “No, I hadn’t thought of that.  Lucky for us.”   

I AM COMING HOME SUSAN.  But what awaits me when I arrive?
  Three days after he awoke from his stupor, Judge Darcy sat huddled under a blanket in his carriage as his body shook.  His back ached and every few minutes his legs kicked of their own volition.  He had gone from sleeping days away while taking the laudanum to being unable to sleep at all now that he had stopped.  Even if he tried he could not have slept, his sharpening mind was stuck on one subject, the sick feeling that he had ordered Darcy’s murder. 
Did I truly demand this?
  He asked himself endlessly. 
How could I?  But Christmas would not abandon his post . . . he wants his brother out . . .  I ordered something . . .
  A note scrawled to the keeper of Newgate was answered the night before he and Carson departed for Pemberley, Christmas’s elder brother remained a resident of the prison. 
He is still there . . .
A demanding interview with a stuttering maid at the rooming house brought him the information that men fitting Wickham’s and Christmas’ descriptions had occupied rooms for several weeks.  The thin, tall man never left his chamber.  “They moved up to rooms.”  He wondered.  “I must have sent them there.”  His starving body cramped up again, and his eyes closed as the familiar voice filled his mind. 

Do for me what I failed to do for you.  Save my son.  Save Fitzwilliam.

“I put him in danger.  It is my fault, George.  Everything is my fault.” 

“Sir?”  Carson asked cautiously and offered him a tiny bit of bread.  “Sir, you must eat.  It has been days.”

He stared at the food in the napkin.  “I am hungry, but I could not hold it down.  It would run right through me.  I cannot travel that way.  No food until we arrive at the inn for the night.  I just have to . . . live through it.  Another day, I think . . .  Thank God I do not crave the drug with anything other than my body.  I should be able to become myself now that I am free of its grip.  I should be through the worst of it by the time we arrive at Pemberley tomorrow.  Lord knows what my wife will say upon seeing me.”  He looked at Carson through bleary eyes.  “Did you have any rhyme or reason to your dosing or was it the whim of the moment?”

“I was doing my best sir.  I had a recipe book . . .”

“God help me.”  Judge Darcy grimaced with another pain.  “So I went up and down, never a steady amount?  I have been travelling between euphoria and withdrawal?”

“It . . . it depended on your mood, sir.  I . . . You were horribly depressed then you had rages . . . and then you were so terrified and ill.  The headaches you suffered and . . .”  He whispered.  “I thought you had seizures, sir.  I was desperate to keep you well enough to appear in public, so . . . so nobody would suspect and you could . . . avoid Bedlam, sir.  You functioned quite well most of the time, especially after Michaelmas, but then it grew worse in December again.  You were always perfect when you stepped into the courtroom.”

“Court resumed in November when I was calmer and you were not dosing me as vigorously.  I remember that time well.” He examined the facts of the case before him and tried to determine the circumstances behind his actions.
Georgiana had been found and Darcy had not announced his plans to marry . . . and Wickham was still at large.  I grew angrier after the wedding and that is when Christmas found Wickham . . .
  He closed his eyes against another wave of nausea and focussed on the conversation.  “Did it ever occur to you that I grew worse with your treatments?  Why did you not tell my son?  He would have written to my wife and she easily could have given you advice.”

“I . . . I thought of that, sir, but . . . I heard you speaking to Master Samuel from time to time while I went about my duties and you would tell him in no uncertain terms that Mrs. Darcy was not to be bothered with your symptoms.  You said that was between husband and wife.  I . . . I did not want to do what you kept your son from doing.” 

The judge stared across the carriage at the contrite man.  “So you took it upon yourself.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“When did you begin?”

“It was last May that I noticed you not feeling yourself and I began . . . giving you a drop or two in your wine.  It seemed to help.”

“Last May?”  He thought back to the spring. 
Before I even approached Wickham.  When Darcy told me that Georgiana would go to Ramsgate.  How much of this was me and how much of it was my valet’s ignorant help?
  As that sick thought filled his mind, he concentrated again on understanding what had happened.  “And your dose, it steadily increased?”

“Yes, sir, as I said, it depended on your mood, sometimes more, sometimes less.  You see, it seemed to have worked so well five years ago, before your brother died?”  Carson looked at him hopefully.  “I helped you along then.  You had become deeply depressed, and I tried a drop or two then . . .”

“
Before
he died?”  Judge Darcy blinked and leaned forward.  “How long before he died?”

“About four months, sir.”  Carson’s brow creased as the judge’s eyes grew wide.  “Master Fitzwilliam was away on his tour of the kingdom.  I remember that you were a frequent visitor at Darcy House, your brother’s sister, Lady Catherine, was there a great deal and you would always come home angry.  She was demanding that a promised marriage between her daughter and Master Fitzwilliam take place immediately upon his return because he was of age.  Your brother was quite upset with her methods, I recall you saying.”

“Yes . . .”  He rubbed his aching head.  “I did not object to the marriage. It would have been good for Pemberley.  My brother spoke of it to me.”

“It was the entailment, I believe, that upset you.”  Carson offered quietly in the face of the judge’s stare and cast his eyes down.  “Servants are always present, but seldom seen, sir.” 

“And what did you see me doing, Carson?”

“You had terrible rages and I would . . .”  He stopped.  “I would give you greater doses of the laudanum to calm you.”

“Did you never make the correlation to my increasing rage and the drug you were pouring down my throat!”  Judge Darcy demanded.  “When did you stop?”

“Mrs. Darcy returned to Town from her visit to her family.  She . . . her presence seemed to help you and I . . . I stopped . . .”   He looked at the sick man before him.  “You were very ill, sir.  I . . . I found you had bought a bottle of cyanide.  It was in your coat pocket.  Mrs. Darcy was terrified that you would do yourself an injury.” 

“When did you find this?” 

“A few days after your brother died.” 

“Mrs. Darcy returned after he died.”

“The next day . . . we sent a note right away, you were overcome with grief, but she refused to let me give you any laudanum . . .   You were sick like you are now.”

I did kill him.
  Judge Darcy swallowed. 
I killed my brother for breaking the entailment because I was under the influence of a drug I never knew I was taking.  And now . . . please Lord, please let me be in time to save Darcy!

“Sir?”  Carson leaned forward and offered him a dry handkerchief.

Wiping his eyes and his nose, the judge huddled back into a corner of the carriage, and forced himself to remember.  “That is enough, Carson.  Leave me to my thoughts.”

“I WONDER what made the greater impression on her?  The girl’s fate or the baby’s?”  Darcy asked Elizabeth as they strolled into the library and closed the door.   “There is certainly a dramatic difference in her since our visit to Lambton.  The silence this time is much easier to bear with you at my side, although I am glad that she went to visit Aunt Susan for the day.  She will miss her when she departs tomorrow.”  He smiled when he saw that Elizabeth was lost in thought and kissed her temple.  “Do you think that anything we have said or done has made any difference at all?  Was it all just seeing that basket?”

“Oh no, not at all!”  Elizabeth started and letting go of his arm entered the library before him.  “I think that if it were not for our previous conversations, she might not have been prepared to appreciate exactly what she was seeing.   Our work was not at all wasted.”

“It was good to give voice to my hurt and anger.  As difficult as it was, I felt a great weight lifted afterwards.  Well, perhaps a week afterwards.”  Elizabeth turned and laid her head against his chest.  “What are you doing?”

“Listening to your heartbeat.”  She said softly and held him close.

Darcy tilted his head and watched her eyes close.  He slipped his arms around her.  “Are you well, love?”

 “mmmhhhmmm.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course.”  She straightened and smiled up at his serious gaze.  “Now, what is this surprise that you have for me?  Is it that book of Darcy history?”

He did not answer for a few moments as he studied her.  “We can look at that anytime.   Come.”  Taking her hand, they moved to a sofa by the fire.  “I thought that we should take advantage of our solitude and have a picnic.  Perhaps we might play some games together?”

“A picnic with games?  I wondered why my always proper husband left his coat behind in the study.”  She laughed to see mischief igniting in his eyes and turning the corner around the sofa, Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth.  “Oh my!”  Her eyes lit up when she spotted a low table covered with silver trays piled with mysterious delicacies.   “I do not recognize so many things here . . .”

“Good.”  He settled with her on the sofa and poured out two glasses of wine.  “What do you think?”  She tasted it and smiled when she recognized the flavour.  “We never did finish our wine from our wedding night.”  Darcy leaned forward and lightly tasted her lips.  “mmmm.  It is even better now.”

“Everything is better now.”  Elizabeth sighed as he kissed along her jaw to nibble below her ear.  “We will never finish the wine this time if you keep this up.”

“Ahh, you have stumbled upon my master plan.”  Darcy whispered huskily.  “Come down here . . .”  He slid down to the floor and sat upon the thick buffalo rug. 

“Will!”   She laughed and he tugged her hand so that she slid down beside him with a thump.  The wine in her glass sloshed.  “Oh no!”

“It did not spill.”  Darcy laughed, pulling her to him.  Elizabeth settled against his shoulder and they took sips from their glasses before setting them on the table.  Darcy kissed her mouth.  “It is warm down here.”

“With that fire how can we be cold?” 

“That is not what I was talking about.”  Darcy’s hand slid beneath her skirt.  “I have tried my best to resist your teasing and wait until we retire, but I am afraid that I cannot possibly hold back any longer.”

“Will!”  She giggled and shot a look at the closed door.  “Georgiana may be along at any time.”

“Then we had better hurry . . .”

“I thought that we were going to play games?”

“I can think of several.”  His hands moved higher.  “Can you?”  Darcy kissed her and traced his tongue along her lips before slipping it inside to taste the wine on hers.  “Or shall we just play?”

“Riddles.”  She broke into delighted laughter to see the look of utter disbelief on his face.

“Riddles!” 

“Yes.”  She lifted her chin.  “You first.”  Darcy stared into her happy sparkling eyes and thought, and then the light of triumph came to his.  “Oh, no.  What have I done?”

Chuckling, he held her face in his hands and steadily leaned her backwards into the rug, kissing her mouth and her throat as he whispered, “In spring I look gay, deck’d in comely array, in summer more clothing I wear; when colder it grows, I fling off my clothes, and in winter . . .  quite naked appear.”

“Will!”  She gasped.

Darcy lifted her skirt to her waist and caressing his hands lovingly up her legs, gazed happily at the sight.  “What am I, Lizzy?” 

“A tree.”  She sighed and her eyes moved from his pleased face to his breeches.  “And you have that very stout stick . . .”

“Yes, I do.”  Darcy immediately opened the fall and she reached up to caress over him.  “Your turn, if you care to keep playing . . . I
do
know another riddle about a rose and a mound, and how beautifully it blooms . . . and tastes . . .”  Ducking his head, he nuzzled his face between her thighs, and bathing her folds with his tongue, moved his hands beneath her hips to raise them higher.  Elizabeth moaned.  “More?  I love hearing you sing.” 

“Will, I . . .”  She caught her breath and seeing his adoring eyes, she caressed his hair spoke in a soft, halting voice. “Two bodies have I, join’d in one; the stiller I stand, the faster I run.”  She managed to laugh with his surprise  “Your tongue has not silenced me yet.”

“Silence is definitely not my goal.”  Darcy kissed her naval and determinedly settling over her, pressed his lips against her ear. “So we are still playing?  Very well then, you have the shape of an hourglass.  But I think that it is
our
bodies that must join into one . . .”  Darcy’s warm mouth moved to caress over hers as he slid inch by inch inside of her. “Oh yes . . . Play with me, Lizzy.” Elizabeth’s arms wrapped around him and he buried himself as far as he could go.