Mr. Darcy's Daughter (28 page)

"And
Mr. Tate will probably want to have Barrett horsewhipped as well, Papa, but it
is poor Josie who needs our help now, for unless something is done to help her,
she will probably die," cried Lizzie, urgently.

Lizzie's
entreaties startled him and Richard decided that he would go himself, rather
than send them with a letter to a physician in London. Besides, this was a
family matter and he felt responsible.

A
decision had also to be made as to whether the Darcys and the Tates should be
told, and it was generally agreed between them that nothing should be said
until they had seen Josie and ascertained her true condition.

"Her
father has refused to have anything to do with her; even when Mrs. Tate begged
him to go to London and try to recover her, he would not budge,"

said
Cassy, and her husband recalled Mr. Tate's rage. "He loved her dearly; he
was so devastated and has felt bereft since she left her home and family, it
would do no good to tell him anything until we have her safely lodged in some
respectable place," Richard said.

*

As
they prepared to leave on the following morning, being Sunday, there was one
thing more that Lizzie had to resolve. Mr. Carr had asked if he might call on
her on Sunday and she had agreed. Now, she was concerned that he would arrive
and, finding her gone to London with no explanation, he may draw the wrong
conclusion.

He
will surely believe that I have changed my mind and have gone away to avoid him
or some such; at the very least, he will think me very rude, she thought.

There
was only one thing to be done; she would have to take her brother Darcy into
her confidence. She could then ask him to deliver a brief explana-tory note to
his friend.

It
was quite late, when after dinner and some time at the billiard table, Darcy
went up to his room. Their parents had already retired to bed, preparing for an
early start on the morrow. There was a soft knock on the door and, to his very
great surprise, his sister entered.

"Why,
Lizzie, what keeps you awake so late?" he asked and she put a finger to
her lips and silenced him, indicating she had something to say that was for his
ears alone. He listened, as she told him of her dilemma and asked for his help.

Darcy
had heard her out without a word, but when she had finished, he was determined
to tease her. "Lizzie, you sly little thing, do you mean to tell me that
you and Mr. Carr have been falling in love behind my back and he is coming here
tomorrow to propose to you? I am delighted, of course, but you might have told
me; after all I am your brother!" he said in mock indignation, a stance
that was somewhat undermined by the fact that he spoke in a whisper.

Lizzie
was adamant. "I have said nothing of the sort. I have no idea what he
proposes to do or say, but I do know he has asked if he may call on Sunday and
I have agreed. Now if I were to go to London, giving no explanation for my absence,
will it not seem rude and ill-mannered in the extreme? Surely you do not wish
me to treat your good friend so, do you, Darcy?" she asked.

"Absolutely
not, nor would I want him to think my little sister ill-mannered. But you have
both been very secretive, keeping me in the dark," he complained, then
smiling broadly, asked, "So, you wish me to explain? What will you have me
say?"

Lizzie
took from her pocket a note she had already written and addressed to Mr. Carr.
As she handed it to her brother, she said with an air of nonchalance, "It
is not sealed, you may read it if you wish; there is nothing silly in there,
only a simple explanation of the facts. I know he will understand; he is a kind
and decent gentleman.

But
if you should choose, Darcy, you may add some little detail about poor Aunt
Josie, so he knows how very urgent the situation was and why we had to go at
once.

"I
have said we hope to return within a week. Papa will probably need to be back
in Matlock even earlier, but whether I am able to leave Josie will depend
entirely upon her health and how soon she recovers," she explained and her
brother, as always, impressed by his young sister's generous spirit, promised
to do exactly as she asked.

"You
need have no further anxiety, Lizzie. I shall tell him why you had to go to
London and, perhaps, I may add how desolated you were at the prospect of
missing him on Sunday, eh?"

Lizzie
threw a pillow at his head as she left the room, still a little fearful.

Darcy
was right, she was sorry to have to go; she had never wanted so much to stay
and longed to know what Mr. Carr might have said to her on Sunday, but she knew
her duty, too. Her brother could believe what he pleased, but Lizzie was still
unsure what the day might have brought.

*

It
was cold and wet when they reached the outskirts of London.

Susan
indicated which route they should follow and, as they left the main streets of
the city and drove into the rutted lanes and byways, Cassy and her daughter
glanced outside and then looked dubiously at one another, apprehensive of what
they might find. These far from salubrious surroundings were not the best
environment for one who was suffering a respiratory affliction of the kind
Susan had described.

"It's
her chest, ma'am; it sounds terrible when she coughs, like an old pair of
bellows inside her."

Richard
was certain Josie was suffering from a common bacterial infection that
afflicted several of the poor in Winter. If not arrested and treated in time,
it could lead to pneumonia.

"The
sooner she can be given good, nourishing food, medication, and fresh air, the
better," he said, and the deeper they drove into the fringes of the city,
the more worried he looked.

They
turned into a narrow but fairly clean street, lined with old, red brick houses,
and Susan called to the driver to slow down. Finally, she made him stop before
a solid, three-storied house, with a cast-iron gate set in its front wall. It
was clearly the abode of a person with rather more substance to protect than
the rest of the street.

As
they got out of their carriage, half the women and children in the houses
opposite came out to look at them. This was neighbourly curiosity in East
London, thought Cassy, as she alighted and looked around. She was glad they
were all very simply dressed for travelling with no furs or jewellery to excite
the interest of onlookers.

A
servant came to the gate and, seeing Susan, she unlocked it and let them into
the house. They stood in a narrow hallway, from which two doors opened to the left
and right of the stairs.

At
least, thought Cassy, it is clean, though shabby.

Susan
was about to take them to the room Josie occupied, when the mistress of the
boardinghouse appeared on the landing and, addressing Susan, said, "I am
glad you are back; she has not been well at all and has hardly eaten anything.
Are these her relations?"

She
was a large woman, with a stern though not unkindly face and a very big voice.

Susan
spoke quickly, as if afraid to offend her. "Yes, ma'am, they are come from
Derbyshire," she replied, "and this is Dr Gardiner, ma'am."

The
woman looked him over and said, still standing halfway up the stairs, "Dr
Gardiner? Well, the lady in there is surely in need of your attention, sir, but
I hope one of you can pay the rent she owes me, for I've had none for a
fortnight."

Richard
stepped up to the foot of the stairs and spoke quietly, but with the kind of
dignified authority that characterised all his dealings.

"Madam,
you need have no fears on that score; you will be paid every penny you are
owed, rest assured. However, I am a doctor and the lady in that room is my
patient. She is very ill and I must see her without delay. If something
unfortunate were to happen to her, while we stood out here quibbling about the
rent, it would not look good for you when the police and the coroner came to
enquire, would it? So let us attend to her needs first and we will settle your
bills thereafter," he said.

The
woman, clearly impressed by the firmness of Dr Gardiner's tone as by the possibility
of a police enquiry intruding upon her establishment, indicated that they could
proceed. Susan opened the door and, as they went in, it was all Lizzie could do
not to cry out. Cassandra could not believe her eyes.

On
a narrow, iron bed, with a thin mattress barely covered over with a plain linen
sheet, lay Josie, propped up against two pillows, a blanket over her knees, and
a woolen shawl around her shoulders. She looked pale and ill, so wretched, so
utterly forlorn, that no one could say a word, but Susan, who rushed to her
side and said in a bright, happy voice, "Miss Josie, they are here, I've
fetched Miss Lizzie and Dr Gardiner and Mrs. Gardiner. They are all come to
help you get well."

Josie
took her hand and held it, before turning her head to look at the visitors who
seemed to fill the small space in the room. Cassy went to her at once, but
Josie was too weak even to smile. On the table beside her bed stood a small
bowl of soup--thin, stone cold, and unappetizing; clearly it had been her
meagre lunch, of which she had probably taken a few spoons full.

Conscious
of the dire condition of his patient, Richard gently moved his wife and
daughter aside and, drawing up the only chair in the room, set about examining
her. While Cassy stayed with them, Lizzie waited in the adjoining room with
Susan, who had been sent to get hot water, soap, and a clean towel for the
doctor.

Looking
out of the window, all Lizzie could see was a row of terraces with chimney pots
sticking up into the sky like so many strange-shaped dwarfs. They sat atop the
roofs of grimy, dark brick buildings which had passed their usefulness as homes
for the middle class and were now being used to house the families of thousands
of rural workers, who were flooding into London, looking for jobs.

Anne-Marie
had told her once of seeing four and even five poverty-stricken families
crowded into one of these boardinghouses, with little sanitation and often no
water. At least, she thought, this place was clean, though it was as cold as
charity.

Lizzie
was not to know then what they learned later; that the boarding mistress was
also the madam of another establishment, sited upstairs: one which employed a
variety of young women, catering to the demands of "gentlemen"

who
visited after dark. This was the main source of her income, for which the

"boardinghouse"
provided a respectable front.

Even
without this knowledge, Lizzie was depressed by the atmosphere of the place and
hoped they could soon get Josie away.

It
was almost half an hour later that her parents emerged from Josie's room.

Both
looked shaken and dejected.

Richard
spoke first. "She must be removed, at once, to a place where she may be
bathed and cared for, given proper food and medication, and kept warm and
comfortable. Above all, she must have some fresh air; the air in the room is
foul, with just one window that is closed to keep out the cold and the smells
from the street. It just will not do. If she remains here much longer, she will
not last long."

There
was no doubting the veracity of his words.

Cassy
looked troubled. "But my dear, where shall we take her? She cannot travel
far."

"Certainly
not, there is only one possible place, Cassy; your father's town house at
Portman Square is the only one I can recommend. There is no one staying there
at the moment; it is warm and well appointed with all the conveniences, in
salubrious surroundings, with easy access to doctors and the hospital, if need
be. There are also servants aplenty, who could fetch and carry for you, without
poor Susan having to do it all herself. After all, Josie is still Julian's wife
and you can take the responsibility to move her there and inform your father. Mr.
Darcy is a compassionate man; he will have no objection, I will stake my life
upon it," he replied.

Cassy
realised from his words as well as the gravity of his countenance that she had
to act fast and asked Susan to pack.

"Should
we not send a message to Uncle Julian, too?" Lizzie asked, anxiously.

"All
in good time, my dear," replied her father. "Once we have Josie out
of here and settled in at Portman Square, there will be time to inform Julian.
I have no doubt at all that he will return at once."

Arrangements
were made to pay the outstanding bills, which included rent, charges for food,
which Josie had not eaten, and a laundry bill which was laughable, considering
the state of the bed linen; but at last, it was done and Josie, wrapped up
warmly in a travelling rug, was carried out to the carriage, in which she, with
Susan and Lizzie, were driven slowly to the Darcys' town house, while Richard
and Cassy went ahead in a hansom cab.

Once
at the house, Cassy gave orders for a room to be made ready, selecting one of
the warmest and lightest rooms in the place, and when Josie arrived, she was
taken there with all care. Susan prepared to bathe and change her ailing
mistress and help her into clean nightclothes and a freshly made bed, a luxury
she had not known for weeks, while Richard went out to the apothecary to obtain
the medication she needed, if she was to have any chance of recovery.