Mr. Darcy's Daughter (5 page)

"But,
Richard, Julian loves her dearly. He has told me so, only today,"

she
protested.

He
smiled. "Of course he does, but has he told her so? Does he, in all he
says and does, demonstrate that love? I think not, my dear, for it is clear he
is engrossed, for most of the time, in his work."

They
talked late into the night before retiring to bed. The situation so depressed
Cassy, she lay sleepless until the early hours of the morning. Only when
Richard revealed that he had decided to seek the counsel of an eminent
colleague on the morrow, did she finally fall asleep.

*

The
following morning, Richard Gardiner set out to call on a distinguished scholar
and physician at one of the colleges. Cassy, having finished breakfast, wrote
to her mother as she had promised, recounting their journey and her impressions
on arrival at her brother's house.

After
some brief comments, she addressed the reason for their visit:
I wish I had
better news for you, dear Mama, but I have not.

I
cannot believe that Josie has deteriorated to this extent in so short a time.
Indeed, to look at her, you would be hard put to recognise the lively young
girl who was married to Julian five years ago, or the healthy young woman who
used to run up and down the stairs at Pemberley or pursue little Anthony all
over the lawns.

She
is a mere shadow of the girl we knew and my poor brother is so unhappy, I
cannot begin to tell you how sad he is. He talks despairingly of her not
wishing to recover and seems to feel he is responsible.

Yet,
Richard says he can find no physical sign of disease in her.

He
is gone this morning to consult another physician, who is, I believe, an
eminent scholar here at Cambridge, and Richard hopes he will have some advice
for him. I pray he will and that Richard may succeed in helping both Josie and
poor Julian, else I do not know what is to become of them.

I
do not mean to alarm you and Papa, but I am so very fearful that things here
are going very wrong and I do not know what we can do to help.

There
is but one piece of good news--Mrs. Tate is here, too, with her maid, Nelly,
and no doubt will help relieve the burden upon Julian a little.

I
shall not delay this further, as I wish to catch the post.

I
shall write again as soon as there is any news to hand.

Your
loving daughter,

Cassy.

On
his return some hours later, Richard sought out his wife, who, having
despatched her letters to the post, had returned upstairs to their room. He
found her disconsolate and sad, unable, she said, to erase from her mind the
melancholy picture of Josie, wan and thin, and Julian, unhappy, despairing,
convinced his wife no longer loved him. She had not revealed this piece of
information to her husband earlier, reluctant to add to his burden of concern.

But
now, unable to hold back, she told him, and when she did, he was most disturbed.
This was something he had not expected of Julian, who was generally a logical
and reasonable man, not given to irrational declarations.

"Are
you quite sure, my love? Did Julian say in so many words?"

"'I
fear, Cassy, that my dear Josie no longer loves me,'" she completed the
sentence for him, quoting her brother's words.

Richard
Gardiner, whose life had been filled with the affection of his parents, the
love of his wife and children, and the esteem of friends and colleagues, could
barely conceive of the wretched situation in which his unhappy brother-in-law
apparently found himself.

"Poor
Julian, struggling to cope with his work, which is both important and
demanding, a wife sick with melancholy, and the belief that she no longer loves
him. It is surely unendurable," he said softly, his voice betraying his
distress.

"Can
you imagine, Cassy, how bereft he must feel?"

Cassy
went to him at once and put her arms around him; neither could imagine such a
situation in their own lives.

"I
can, indeed, but what can we do to help him?" she asked, weeping.

Feeling
a growing sense of helplessness, they clung together, saddened, aching, seeking
solace from each other, as they faced the daunting prospect of trying to
resolve problems whose causes lay hidden from them, finding their only comfort
in the love they shared. Yet their own deep passion only compounded their
concern about the state of Julian and Josie's lives.

Cassy,
no less than her husband, was confounded by the situation that confronted her
brother and his wife. Growing up at Pemberley, where the strength of her
parents' love had sustained their family in the midst of tragedy, she had
married Richard Gardiner, whose own parents had enjoyed a long and contented
marriage. Consequently, she had scarcely any personal knowledge of the
bitterness and grief that she had encountered with Julian and Josie.

Her
own experience of marriage had taken her from eager young love to a deeply
satisfying, mature, and passionate relationship with her husband and children.
It permeated every aspect of her life and sharpened all her sensibilities; so
much so, that strangers meeting them for the first time would become aware of
the warmth and strength of their affection for one another.

To
both Richard and Cassy, their marriage was a deep well of contentment.

To
put such a source of happiness in jeopardy, for any reason whatsoever, would
have been utterly unthinkable. Sensing her anguish and understanding her need
for reassurance, Richard was loving and consoling.

Later,
he revealed that he had had a long and enlightening discussion with a
colleague, a man for whom he had immense professional respect. This physician
had healed many men after the terror and shock of war and was an acknowledged
authority on the causes and treatment of acute trauma.

Where
once priests and exorcists had held sway, scientific ideas were being applied
to ease the curse of melancholia. Richard claimed he had learned much from
their discussion and planned to talk to both Julian and his wife.

"Perhaps,
if they can be convinced of the need to speak of their fears and anxieties to
each other or to my colleague, who understands their situation, there may be a
chance for some healing. At the moment, they are each locked in a prison of their
own making, into which one will not permit the other entry,"

he
explained.

*

Back
at Pemberley, meanwhile, Elizabeth and Darcy had waited impatiently for news
from Cambridge. When it came, in the form of Cassandra's letter, it brought
little relief. Elizabeth, having read it twice over, could not make it out at
all.

"What
can be the matter?" she asked her husband, who, having reread their
daughter's words, was at a loss to explain the circumstances, not having been
privy to their problems.

His
wife persisted, "Darcy, what has happened to poor Julian and Josie? They
were so happy here last year--I had hoped they would return for the
Summer."

Darcy
tried to find a comforting explanation but could not. He too was baffled. His
earlier simple prognosis, that Josie was probably bored, was being rapidly
eroded by the realisation that she was possibly more seriously ill than any of
them had imagined.

"My
dear, I think we shall all have to wait until Richard and Cassy return to
discover the real cause of the problem. Cassy would not have enough of the
detail to give us any real understanding, but Richard would know, and I am sure
he will explain it to us," he said.

Even
as he spoke, he could see that Elizabeth was unconvinced; trying to reassure
her, he was gentle and persuasive, understanding her grief. Losing her beloved
William had been a dreadful blow and, though Julian could never replace him, he
had brought some light and pleasure back into her life. Now, Julian was
miserable and Lizzie suffered with him.

"There
has to be some reason, Lizzie; if Richard can find no physical cause for
Josie's affliction, there is bound to be another explanation. When he discovers
it, he will also find the solution. Meanwhile, dearest, please do not upset
yourself unduly or you will also become unwell," he said, anxious for her,
using whatever means he could to alleviate her distress. Her happiness had been
his concern throughout their long marriage.

Elizabeth
smiled and took his hand; it was only a small gesture, but it meant she had
accepted the comfort he offered and was glad of the relief. As on many previous
occasions, his strength and devotion helped her cope with what might otherwise
have been an unbearable burden of pain.

*

When
Richard and Cassandra Gardiner returned to Julian's house the following
afternoon, they found, to their astonishment, Mrs. Tate and Josie sitting in
the parlour in front of the fire. Their maid, Susan, beaming all over her face,
had just brought in tea and scones, and while Josie was not exactly eating with
relish, she was at least attempting to consume some part of what was on her
plate.

A
cheerful Mrs. Tate informed them that Julian was expected at any moment, and
they were to be joined at dinner by a visitor from London.

"A
Mr. Barrett, who is in Cambridge on business, called this morning and though
Julian was unable to see him, being about to leave for his college, he has been
asked to dine with us tonight," she explained, adding the information that
she had not met him herself, but Julian and Josie knew Mr. Barrett well.

"I
myself would like very much to meet Mr. Barrett, being in the business of
writing, too, as you know," Mrs. Tate said, prompting Cassy to ask if Mr.
Barrett was a writer.

At
this, Josie, who had put down her plate, responded, surprising Cassy.

"No,
but he does know a great many writers, being himself involved in the book
trade. He stocks all the best volumes," she said.

It
was the first time she had spoken, and both Richard and Cassy were astonished
at the firmness and clarity of her voice, which only a day or two ago had
sounded so weak and thin.

After
the initial surprise, however, Cassy declared that she was delighted to see
that Josie was feeling sufficiently well to venture downstairs again.

Richard
went further, pointing out that she was already looking much better, with more
colour in her cheeks, and expressing his confidence that Josie would soon be on
her way to recovery. Both of them congratulated Mrs. Tate, giving her credit
for having effected such a transformation in her daughter in so short a time.

Later,
when Cassy left the room to go upstairs, she met Susan on the landing, carrying
a gown, which she had pressed. The girl was so excited she could hardly contain
herself, eager to tell Cassy of her mistress's recovery. "It's Miss
Josie's gown for tonight, ma'am; it's ever so long since she got dressed up, I
am to do her hair up too, ma'am."

Cassy
took the opportunity to ask if Josie had begun to take her medication again,
and if Mrs. Tate had persuaded her to do so. She was taken aback quite when
Susan said emphatically, "Oh no, ma'am, it's not Mrs. Tate; it's all on
account of Mr. Barrett." Then seeing the look of consternation on Cassy's
face as she said "Mr. Barrett," Susan added quickly, "The
gentleman that's coming to dinner, ma'am. It's all his doing."

"Whatever
do you mean, Susan?" asked Cassy, thinking the girl was babbling, as some
silly young women are wont to do, but Susan insisted, "Indeed ma'am, when
he was here last year, he was very taken with Miss Josie's writings, you know,
ma'am, her poetry and such."

Cassy
was unaware that her young sister-in-law wrote poetry, but let that pass, as
she persevered, keen to learn more about the involvement of Mr. Barrett.

"Was
he?" Cassy was interested.

"Yes,
ma'am, he sat with her and read some out loud, in the parlour; oh, it was
lovely, ma'am. He has such a fine voice. Miss Josie was ever so pleased,
because he said it was so good, it should be put in a book. Miss Josie could
not stop talking about it for days and days, ma'am."

"And
what happened after that?" Cassy asked, for it was plain the maid had more
to tell and Cassy was keen to hear it.

"Nothing,
ma'am," said Susan, pulling a face. "Mr. Barrett had to return to London
and we heard no more of it. Miss Josie wrote him a letter to his office in
London, I know she did, because I took it to the post, but I never heard if he
replied, ma'am. But this morning, when he called on the master and was invited
to return to dine tonight, the mistress was so pleased, she was up out of bed
within an hour and wanted her clothes pressed and her hair washed and curled;
she is coming down to dinner for the first time in weeks, ma'am." Susan
was plainly excited by the prospect.

Cassy
shook her head, still puzzled by the apparent speed with which Josie's recovery
had been effected. Mrs. Tate's maid, Nelly, appeared on the stairs and Susan's
conversation seemed to dry up suddenly.