Mr. Darcy's Obsession (22 page)

"Thank you; that would be most convenient." Having to bribe the parson was the least of his concerns.

***

The following morning, Darcy presented himself at the Browning residence at the earliest moment that could be considered decent. Even then, he had been waiting impatiently for more than an hour. Word must have spread through the town of his presence, since he was subject to many frank stares of curiosity from the townspeople.

He managed to steal a few moments of blessed privacy with Elizabeth in the hallway before Jane descended the stairs and told him that her husband was ready to receive him. It took an effort of will to tear himself away from Elizabeth's bright eyes.

Jane ushered him into the sickroom, indicating a chair at Mr. Browning's bedside. Mr. Browning shifted restlessly, his mouth drooping to one side and a wordless pleading look in his eyes, much like Darcy's father had appeared in his last days. For a moment Darcy could not speak. He collected himself, thoughts of a future with Elizabeth replacing his recollections.

He cleared his throat. Jane had assured him that her husband had no difficulty understanding what was said to him, but how could Darcy be certain? "Mr. Browning, I would like to have a word with you, in my role as Miss Bennet's intended husband, to apprise you of the plans I have made. We intend to marry within the next few days, after which she and I will depart for London and then Derbyshire. I am arranging to let a house here for Mrs. Bennet and will settle a small income on her. Kitty will also live there, and there is room for you and your wife as well, should you so choose."

Mr. Browning's hand picked at the bedclothes. He made an obvious effort to lift his head, moving his lips as if he could force words out of them. Darcy wished he could understand the silent effort.

Instead, he continued. "There is another option as well. Miss Bennet, being quite attached to your wife and unhappy to leave her at such a time, joins me in inviting you and your family to live at Pemberley. It would mean leaving your friends in Meryton, but I can promise you pleasant surroundings and the best of care. Your son would be raised alongside my own future children and educated as befits a gentleman."

Mr. Browning's good hand stirred, and he raised it a few inches before allowing it to drop once more, but this time Darcy suspected he understood what the man wished to know. "I will make it my business in any case to assure your son's future, whatever he may choose. He will be my nephew and will have the opportunities congruent with that."

Mr. Browning searched Darcy's eyes as if looking for some sort of answer there and then let his head tip to the side. For the first time, the fingers of his good hand stopped their constant dance of motion.

Darcy rose. "I presume you will wish some time to consider your option. I will return tomorrow." He did not know how they would manage to communicate then, but Jane appeared to have some method of gauging her husband's mind. He bowed crisply, feeling all the incongruity of such behaviour in a sickroom, and was astonished when Mr. Browning grabbed his wrist, his dry, paper-like skin warm and flaccid.

"Would you like something further?" It was a foolish question to ask, since he could not expect a response, but Darcy did not know what else to say. His attentiveness seemed to be enough to calm Mr. Browning, though the beseeching look returned to his rheumy eyes.

Speaking of his family's future had calmed him before. Perhaps it would work again. "You have my word that both you and your wife will be well provided for. Your wife told me that you had intended to ask me to stand as godfather to your son, and I assured her I would be honoured to do so. He will be under my protection always, and he will be a gentleman."

The hand on his wrist relaxed, and one side of Mr. Browning's mouth turned up in an attempt at a smile. He lay back and closed his eyes, looking more at peace than he had on Darcy's entrance.

Darcy stepped out of the room quietly so as not to disturb him. Jane was waiting just outside the door, and he quietly said, "He seems calmer now."

"Whatever you said must have reassured him."

"I told him I would care for his son and raise him as a gentleman."

She nodded her understanding. "That would be it. He has long wished for children and had such hopes for our son. It is good of you to offer your protection in his stead."

"His paternal affection is commendable." Darcy could imagine the fear of leaving one's child unprotected in a world where fatherless children wandered the streets of London in rags. A voice echoed in his head saying coldly,
I have other sons
. Mr. Browning was a mere shopkeeper of no great distinction, a country tradesman Lord Derby would scorn, yet Darcy could not imagine he would ever say such a thing.

Why did placating Lord Derby have such importance for him? The radical thought almost threw Darcy off balance. He had been raised to honour family and duty above all else, but he was no longer a child, and his uncle was not someone he could respect in anything except for his birth. What was the value of keeping such a tie? London society would frown on him if he quarreled with his uncle. Darcy might have wealth enough to buy acceptance, but his uncle was titled, an incontrovertible advantage. But would that be such a loss? His marriage to Elizabeth would be grounds for scandal in any case. Did he wish to expose his own future children to the cesspit of London society?

The realization hit him with startling clarity. He did not need Lord Derby, Lady Catherine, or the
ton
. He had Pemberley, Georgiana, and Elizabeth, and that was all he needed. He was the most fortunate of men. Why look beyond them for a recognition that, in the end, meant nothing?

It was time to make some changes in his life.

Chapter 17

The new maidservant turned out to be a strikingly pretty girl named Mary. She curtsied gracefully to Elizabeth when Darcy introduced her and was clearly already acquainted with Charlie. It took only a few minutes for Elizabeth to realize that Mary shared Charlie's tendency to follow Darcy with her eyes, as if attuned to his every movement, but what looked like charming loyalty when seen in Charlie was oddly unnerving in a girl with a woman's shape. Elizabeth tried to quell her anxiety. After all, Mary might watch Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Darcy's eyes were all for Elizabeth. Still, it was a disturbing thought that Mary must know more of the everyday details of Mr. Darcy's life, his likes and dislikes, how he behaved when different moods took him, than she herself could begin to grasp.

But as soon as Charlie led Mary off to show her the space in the attic room that was to be hers, Elizabeth's fears were eased as Darcy immediately took both her hands in his and pressed them to his heart. She experienced the usual delicious shiver of anticipation at his touch, and his devoted look melted any doubts that remained.

He seemed equally caught up in her; his eyes darkened as his breathing became more rapid. He shook his head a little, as if waking himself from a dream, and said, "I am glad Mary is here, as now there will be no need for you to attend to household tasks. You will find her hardworking and sensible."

"Another paragon? I am only just accustomed to Charlie, who always manages to know my next action even before I do. I am certain that within the hour he will have instructed your girl in everything that needs to be done, settled her sleeping arrangements, unpacked her belongings, restocked the entire store, and taken a quick jaunt to France to put poison in Bonaparte's soup. He is a most efficient young man."

"I am glad he has been of assistance."

"Mr. Browning was... is quite fond of him. He often had Charlie help customers, because he said Charlie could sell salt water to sailors and get a good price for it."

"Somehow that does not surprise me." He cleared his throat. "My sister is very fond of Mary."

His remark seemed to carry some sort of significance, but Elizabeth was puzzled by its meaning. "I hope Miss Darcy will not miss her presence, then."

He shifted his weight slightly. "I imagine she may, but it is better for Mary to be here." His tone did not leave any room for questions. "I am due to meet with Mr. Philips shortly, so I must leave you. May I return once our business is completed?"

"Of course. I would like that." It was embarrassing to realize she would miss him even for such a short separation.

"Then nothing will keep me away." He kissed her hand, his lips lingering longer than strictly necessary.

***

Elizabeth gathered a hamper of dirty linens. Between the infant and the invalid, there was a never-ending supply of washing. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand and picked up the hamper to take to the washtub outside.

She did not make it past the kitchen. Mary and Charlie left off their whispering at her entrance. Mary handed Charlie a knife and then took the basket of wash from Elizabeth. "You're not to do this. Mr. Darcy says."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Darcy says? And what of what
I
say?"

The two exchanged puzzled glances, as if she were speaking Chinese. Charlie told Mary, "The washtub is in the garden."

She nodded, made as much of a curtsey as she could manage holding the large hamper, then carried it through the open door.

Elizabeth folded her arms and, amused, glared at Charlie. "So Mr. Darcy makes the rules in my sister's house?"

He flashed a grin. "No, miss, you do. Exceptin' when Mr. Darcy disagrees with your rules. Once you're Mrs. Darcy, you can make the rules for
him
."

"I see." She gazed outside. Mary's hair glinted golden in the sunlight as her lithe figure poured water into the washtub. What was Mr. Darcy's interest in her, and why had he kept it from Elizabeth?

"She don't warm his bed, if that's what you're thinking." Charlie's voice floated into her reverie.

Elizabeth straightened abruptly. "That is hardly an appropriate topic of conversation."

"She thought she was supposed to at first, but he said no. Now she's Miss Darcy's maid. He don't mistreat the staff the way some gents do."

"I am relieved to hear it," Elizabeth said dryly. "Pray, how much does Mr. Darcy pay you to sing his praises?"

Charlie's crooked teeth showed in a grin. "Not a thing. Why should he? You'd have to be mad not to go with him. But he's a decent man, and I won't say that of many."

"What will you do once your work here is done?"

"Dunno. I'll go back to London, I figure."

"Mr. Darcy does not have plans for you already? How uncharacteristic of him."

Charlie shrugged. "I'm not in service to him. He pays me to do things from time to time, that's all."

"Will you miss Meryton when you leave?"

"Maybe. It's too quiet here. Streets should be noisy. I'll miss the meals and the warm kitchen, though."

"The meals have hardly been something to remember."

He gave her a disbelieving look. "I've had breakfast and dinner every day since I came here. That's something to remember."

***

Colonel Fitzwilliam did not believe in neglecting family responsibilities, even when they were as onerous as visiting his brother's sickbed. Still, he fortified himself with a generous glass of port before braving the inevitable litany of complaints. Henry had always been a difficult patient, and losing an arm was unlikely to improve his temperament or his sensibilities.

It was a pleasant surprise to discover that the drapes were no longer drawn. He had always thought that Henry's bedroom at Derby House looked more like an overdecorated prison cell than a pleasant space, with all natural light shut away. Henry sat by the window, gazing out at the small garden, an invalid's blanket over his legs.

It was hard not to look at the stump of his arm, swathed in yellowing bandages. The colonel had seen plenty of men who lacked a limb, but it was different in Henry. His older brother was supposed to be hale and whole.

He covered his dismay with a jovial manner. "Good to see you sitting up, Henry. I was beginning to believe you intended to spend the entire year in bed."

Henry turned a pallid face towards him for a moment and then looked out the window again, even as he spoke. "There are matters I must attend to."

"Certainly nothing urgent, I hope. You have been quite ill."

"I am much recovered."

This was most unlike Henry. Richard sent a questioning look towards the valet, who pointed to a small, stoppered bottle. Laudanum, no doubt, which would account for Henry's unusual demeanour.

Richard joined his brother by the window, peering out to see what had captivated Henry's interest, but he could see nothing unusual beyond a footman heading towards the stable. "It must be pleasant to enjoy the view."

Henry gave him a suspicious glance. "I am waiting."

"Until you are stronger? Very sensible."

"No, no. I am waiting for a sign."

"A sign of what?"

Henry lowered his voice. "I do not know, but the messenger said there would be a sign, and I would know it."

He must have had the entire bottle of laudanum, given how insensible his replies were. Richard made another attempt. "What messenger? Did someone write to you?"

Henry looked impatient. "No, the messenger who chased the devil away."

Long years of practise in disguising his feelings kept Richard's face unperturbed by the concern he felt. "The devil?"

"The devil wanted me to die unshriven, so that I would burn in hell," Henry said, as if sharing a confidence. "But the messenger said my fever was a warning, a taste of what awaited me if I continued to follow the devil's path."

"I see." Richard studied his brother's face carefully. He could see no telltale flush of fever, but this seemed to go beyond laudanum dreams. Hopefully it would resolve in a few days, and if so, the less said now, the better. "You would perhaps do better not to mention the messenger to our father. He might not understand."

Henry nodded at the sage advice. "Yes, you are right. His eyes have not yet been opened."

Richard decided he would definitely have a word with Henry's valet about watering the laudanum.

***

A carriage clattered down High Street towards Darcy. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, but the familiarity of it reassured him. It took a moment before he realized that his carriage should be in London, not Meryton. He thought that whatever it might portend, it was going to delay his reunion with Elizabeth. He had not seen her since the previous evening, which, in his view, was far too long.

He reached the door of the Browning house just in time to see a footman handing his Aunt Augusta out of the carriage, followed by Georgiana. He advanced towards them. "This is an unexpected pleasure, Aunt," he said dryly. "
Very
unexpected."

"There you are, Fitzwilliam," Aunt Augusta said. "Will you not invite us in? I am in desperate need of a strong cup of tea."

Darcy looked around, certain that Charlie would be nearby and observing. Indeed, he was just beyond the door. "Charlie, please inform Mrs. Browning that my family is paying us a surprise visit."

Charlie hurried inside, while Darcy asked after their travels and Georgiana's health, hoping to give Elizabeth and Jane a few minutes to prepare for their unexpected guests. The boy returned quickly, his face flushed with exertion, and said, "Mr. Browning requires his wife's presence, but Miss Bennet has ordered tea and will join you in the sitting room in a few minutes, if you please, sir."

Darcy sincerely hoped Elizabeth was not in the kitchen preparing the tea herself as he ushered the two women into the small parlour. He wondered if Georgiana had ever been inside a house such as this, small and practical, with few luxuries and little decoration. He had not spoken to her of Elizabeth's financial status; it would be a surprise for her. Aunt Augusta was less of a concern. He doubted anything could surprise her, and she was always at home in unconventional circumstances. A little too much at home, his parents would have said. It was fortunate that Elizabeth had already made the acquaintance of his maternal aunt, Lady Catherine; she would not be shocked to discover he had some eccentric connections. He rather wished than believed that Aunt Augusta would be on her best behaviour.

***

Elizabeth did what she could to bring her hair into some sort of order, but there was nothing that could disguise her well-worn everyday dress and slippers. If this aunt of Mr. Darcy's proved to be anything like Lady Catherine de Bourgh, it could prove a highly unpleasant experience. There was nothing to be done for it, though; his family would accept her, or they would not, and she could do little to influence the outcome. There was no point in delaying, so she took a deep breath and entered the sitting room.

"Elizabeth, may I present my father's sister, Lady Seaton." As Darcy made the introductions, his aunt's eyes assessed her. Lady Seaton herself made little concession to fashion, though her clothes were well made and of fine material.

"So you are the mysterious young lady who has been causing such an uproar. Since you are to be part of the family, you might as well call me Aunt Augusta. It is traditional to say it with a certain degree of exasperation."

"Aunt Augusta!" Darcy said. "This is hardly the time."

She pointed at him. "You see, Fitzwilliam is providing a fine example. He has the tone almost perfect. A few more years of practise, and he will sound exactly like his father."

Elizabeth made a slight curtsey. "You will have to forgive me, madam. It is beyond my thespian abilities to seem exasperated with someone I have just met. You will have to do something to exasperate me first."

The older woman let out a bark of laughter. "I see you will do very well. By the by, Fitzwilliam, I told his lordship that I was already acquainted with Miss Bennet."

Darcy's eyes held a slight look of a hunted animal. "I am sure you must have had a reason," he said with resignation.

"I said it to annoy him, of course. There are so few pleasures of life to enjoy at my age; one must seize the opportunities as they come." She looked distinctly pleased with herself.

"And you are so very skilled at annoying him," Darcy said. "I wonder that you did not marry him all those years ago so that you would have the pleasure of tormenting him all his life."

"He is far too ill-tempered for my taste, not to mention that I cannot abide a man who sulks. Besides, it was much more enjoyable to see his face when I told him I had accepted Lord Seaton, who had none of the prospects, fortune, or youth he had. He could not understand why I would prefer an old man to him." Almost as an afterthought, she turned to Elizabeth. "But, Miss Bennet, if you insist upon marrying a young, healthy man, you could do far worse than our Fitzwilliam."