by Rose Lorimer
“Do I understand you are taking this decision because—”
“I love her, Bingley. That is my main reason. Be assured of it.”
“Of course, Darcy,” Bingley said, looking at his wife as she smiled back at him. “It will be our honour to have you as our brother, especially knowing Elizabeth returns your feelings. I am sure that once Mr Bennet learns about the facts, he will understand. I am just sorry this cannot be a happier moment with Elizabeth so ill.”
“About that, what did the doctor say? Why is she having difficulty breathing? And why such a high fever? Is that because of the cut in her leg?”
Bingley’s expression hardened as he exchanged a concerned glance with his wife. Richard approached and stayed close by me, his strained face betraying his feelings.
“The doctor was very reticent in his comments, Darcy, especially after we told him Elizabeth had spend the night at Land’s End,” Bingley began. “During his examination, he witnessed her mumbling something about the creature you mentioned — this ‘walking shadow’. His expression became very serious, and he added that if this was the case, there was very little he could do. He did not say it clearly, but Jane and I understood he believes this curse of Land’s End is real.”
So that is what they are calling it. “The curse of Land’s End”.
Before I could protest, Bingley raised his hand. “He also said he had attended many other patients who had spent the night there some years ago, before everybody started to avoid the area, especially during some nights…”
“What happened to those patients?” I asked, halfway to losing my mind.
“Well,” he said looking again to his wife, who lowered her tearful gaze. “They… died two days later with the same symptoms Elizabeth is presenting: extreme high fever, difficulty breathing and nose bleeding. There was also a family who used to live there. By your account, this house where you stayed… hmm… it might have belonged to this family. Nobody ever came back to claim it.”
I thought as much; what could possibly cause a house to be abandoned and not reclaimed? A haunted house. Who in sound mind would claim such a place?
Bingley continued. “I am deeply grieved, but what can we possibly do? I feel so guilty. This was supposed to be a good time among family and friends, but it has turned out to be a nightmare!”
I shook my head and started pacing the room. Nobody stopped me or even looked at me. My turmoil increased so fast that I thought I would collapse.
How does one fight such an enemy?
I stopped by the window and looked at the sea again, a great despair taking hold of my soul. I leaned my head against the cold window. In that moment, I was back at that house, facing the creature. This time, however, it was as if it had finally pierced my body with its sword.
“… your fate is worse than hers…. but you will live to see it all, at least for a while.”
I grabbed the windowsill with such strength that my knuckles turned white.
I cannot lose her!
As I inhaled deeply, trying to tame my turmoil, I closed my eyes and prayed with all my heart.
In a moment, Mr Kilber’s words came to life, years and years of sermons and advice flooded my mind, but in particular a verse which always gave me purpose. “As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”
This was not the end. If Elizabeth was the miracle I had asked for — and I believed that with all my heart — she could not die.
I felt Richard’s hand on my shoulder. He said nothing, but his companionship brought me some relief.
And a fresh determination.
I raised my eyes to the dark sky. Curse or no curse, I would not bow to this fate. Not after having tasted for some precious moments what happiness could be. Another verse came to mind. “Whatever your hands find to do, do it with your might; for there is no work or device or knowledge or wisdom in the grave where you are going.”
That was it. While I still had a breath of life, I would not give up.
I stopped, remembering something.
How could I have forgotten it?
I turned to them. “It seems this bloody curse — I beg your pardon Mrs Bingley — has imprisoned every single mind in these parts! Everybody seems absolutely terrified by it. But now, I cannot say I do not understand it. What we need is to have another perspective!”
Three pairs of wide eyes stared blankly — or perhaps a little suspiciously — at me.
“I am not giving up on her. I will fight for her life until the day she… until the end. I just remembered Dr Alden, my family physician, is not far from here. I do not know about you, but I am in desperate need of a second opinion!”
Chapter 21
Darcy
On the following morning, I found Bingley and another man in the library, discussing what I understood was the extension to the rental period for another two weeks. I was grateful for Bingley’s foresight. We could not think of leaving the place with Elizabeth so ill.
“Ah, Darcy! This is Mr Glowbrenn, the local broker. Mr Glowbrenn agreed to extend our time here due to the seriousness of our situation. He said we can stay as long as necessary as there is no one else booked for the next couple of months.”
“It is the least I can do, Mr Bingley,” the man said turning to me. “Mr Darcy, it is a pleasure to meet you, unfortunately under such distressing circumstances.”
I bowed to the man. “Indeed. Well, I will leave you to your business. If you will excuse me.”
“I was wondering, Mr Darcy,” he prompted before I could leave. “Is your surname related to the D’Arcy’s who came with William from Normandy in the 11th century?”
I was surprised by the unexpected question. “You are correct, Mr Glowbrenn. My ancestry goes back to that period.”
“Interesting. You strike me as a pure bred English man, nonetheless, you have French name and blood. Have you come to Cornwall with a conquest in mind like your ancestors, Mr Darcy?”
Again, another odd question. “No. I assure you my intentions were quite peaceful. Are you a scholar by any chance?” I asked, curious about his peculiar interest.
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I am just someone… well, curious about some trivialities, old surnames included.”
His countenance darkened as an uncomfortable silence fell between us. “I am very sorry for your awful experience. I mean, spending the night in a supposed cursed area? I hope your lady is already recovering. I believe you must be eager to leave the area as soon as possible.”
He was right. I could not wait to return to London. “I was not aware of the gravity of this so-called curse, Mr Glowbrenn. I became familiar with the details just after the incident. About our staying, I believe Mr Bingley said it all. We do not plan to stay more than is strictly necessary. And Miss Bennet is on her way to a full recovery, I thank you.”
The smile on his face was as strange as his questions. “I am glad to hear it,” he said, bowing his head.
For some reason, I had the impression he wanted to say more, but restrained himself. I could just be grateful for it. The last thing I needed was to hear more about curses and death.
We bid our goodbyes, and I left, resuming my routine of helping Mrs Bingley with Elizabeth’s care, despite the impropriety of it.
But I would not have it any other way. I had Bingley’s approval to obtain a special license, and also had sent Mr Bennet an express asking for his blessing and explaining my need to look after his daughter in the best way I could, with no restrictions, and as soon as possible, also avoiding overloading Bingley with the expenses that soon would be my responsibility, but mainly assuring that I loved his daughter, very much.
In fact, I needed to stay with her or I would go mad.
My only comfort now was feeling that if I could stay with her she would not die.
Chapter 22
Darcy
A week had passed since that fateful night at Land’s End. And with each day, a new relief for Elizabeth still being alive.
But that day, the most intriguing event took place.
People from town, the same ones who had welcomed us in their midst, began to look at me strangely. At first, I dismissed the impression, believing it was not related to me. But on that day, as Richard and I went again to the post office — I was still waiting for my special license — I realised things had changed for the worse. Some of them seemed genuinely afraid of me.
We stopped at the local pub and after waiting a long time for someone to approach us, Richard went to check what was going on. He came back some minutes later with a strange expression on his face.
“Darcy, let us go from this place. They will not serve us here.”
“What? Why not?”
“They are afraid of you. They said you are the… ‘cursed one’.”
I controlled my temper and left the place with no further words. As we walked down the street, an old lady, dirty and dressed in ragged clothes, came to me and begged for a coin. That was not an uncommon occurrence, but it gave me an idea. I took a coin, but before handing it to her, I asked, “Are you not afraid of me?”
“Aye, sir. I’m,” she answered with a very local accent. “But ‘ungry people can’t choose…”
“Why should you, or anybody else, be afraid of me?”
She arched her grey brows at my question. “If they spar’d your life, it means the ghosts can come for another one… to replace ye… Someone close to ye. Ye are the curs’d one.”
“Who said such a thing?” I asked, remembering the creature’s words.
“Oh, we don’t need anyone to say it, sir. We just know,” she replied anxiously, looking around, lowering her eyes. “Some years ago, three young lads went to Land’s End to prove the ghosts didn’t exist, they said. On the following day, two of them were very ill and died some days later. The third lad said the ghost had curs’d ‘im saying he would see his friends dying a horrible death. His mother died three days later. He couldn’t cope with his grief and threw himself from the cliff…”
With a trembling hand, I gave her the coin, and the woman fled from us. That was exactly what that monster had said to me.
As I observed the woman running away, the strange feeling of someone watching me returned and my heart raced. The last time I had that impression I was not wrong. I turned to Richard to share my impression and saw a man as tall as Richard, looming behind him.
Noticing my surprise, Richard turned and saw the man. “May I help you, sir?” he asked with all the authority of a Colonel in His Majesty’s Army.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. I did not intend to frighten you,” the stranger said with an enigmatic expression in his eyes.
Richard frowned. “Frighten us? No, sir. It is just that, accustomed to London polite society, we are not used to having unacquainted men approaching us, especially from behind.”
The man shifted on his feet. “I beg your pardon once more if I have given you the wrong impression, sir. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hedrek Pascoe, the local magistrate. At your service,” he said, bowing.
“Well,” Richard said, taking the lead again. “I am Colonel Fitzwilliam and this is my cousin, Mr Darcy. How can we help you, Mr Pascoe?”
Mr Pascoe looked at us with a baffled expression. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, especially you, Mr Darcy. But thank you, no. There is nothing you can do for me, at least for now. I just could not waste an opportunity to meet you. If you need anything,” he said, his pale grey eyes staring at me, “please, do not hesitate to contact me.” Producing a card from his coat pocket, he handed it to us and bowed again, leaving with no further word.
When we returned to the house, Bingley almost bumped into us, breathless. “Darcy, Colonel, are you well?”
“Yes, we are, Bingley. What is the matter?” I asked surprised.
“The servants, Darcy, all the temporary ones are leaving us. They said they cannot continue to work here anymore. It seems the fact that Elizabeth is still alive is the reason for it! Only Mr and Mrs Nancarrow stayed, and I am guessing this is because they cannot leave!”
Richard and I exchanged surprised glances, and I explained to Bingley what the old woman had said about me being the ‘cursed one’. “It seems the whole area already knows about it!” I added annoyed. “How is that even possible?”
“Oh, I asked them the same thing and one maid said it was the man you encountered on the road. He arrived in town talking about a strange man and woman, lying on the road to Land’s End. The man said you both had spent the night there, and by your appearance he knew you had fought the devil. The news spread everywhere like fire in a pile of hay! The servants did not need any further information to link you two to what the man said.”
I was livid, but I knew I could not blame them. I had been the one to face that thing and still did not have an answer to what had happened to me; what could be said of those villagers haunted by inexplicable deaths and ghost stories for years?
“I need to see Elizabeth,” I said, ignoring them, heading upstairs, two steps at a time. I had occupied my mind writing many letters, among them one to my lawyer drafting our settlement, and another to the local bishop applying for a special license. The idea of asking Dr Alden to come and see her had also given me some comfort. But now I needed to touch her and see with my eyes how she was really doing.
After washing myself and changing my clothes, I knocked at her door. There was no answer, so I just entered. Mrs Bingley was there at her side, dozing in a nearby chair. She woke up as soon as I closed the door. I apologised for disturbing her, offering to relieve her so she could have some proper rest. She thanked me and left, visibly tired.
I sat beside Elizabeth, taking her hand and kissing it. She opened her eyes and once again I could see her struggle to breathe. “William…”
Her face lit up at first, but sadness soon replaced it. With great effort she put her hand on my face, caressing my cheek. I felt tears burning my eyes as I closed them.
“I love you, William. I just wish… I could have more time with you…”
The sombre tone of her voice told me she was not expecting to recover. A knot formed in my throat. I covered her hand with mine. “But you will, my love. You will. You see, I cannot live without you, so you need to get better and be my wife. We can marry as soon as you are strong enough to leave this bed.”
But she was not attending me anymore. In the last week, despite still being alive, Elizabeth had been like that, going in and out of consciousness, burning with fever and struggling to breathe, unaware of the world around her.
If my agony was not already enough, her condition brought back the dreadful memory of how my father had succumbed to a similar disease, gasping for air until he could breathe no more.
And as I had done that day in the rain, when despair and pain had taken away all my strength, I wept at her beside, fighting an agonising battle between my own two sides: one which wanted to give up and accept the reality and the other, which wanted to keep faith and believe that yet another miracle could happen.
I was no stranger to suffering, especially in these last six months, but after everything that happened to me, I thought I had reached the bottom of the well. How foolish could I be? This well could be so much, much deeper…
I spent the rest of the day cooling her forehead, taking care of her, only hoping and praying that in some way, our circumstances could change.
***
That night, to my great relief, Dr Alden finally arrived, bringing with him all the resources he could think of based on my description of Elizabeth's symptoms. I had been careful not to mention all the details of what had happened. I wanted him to have an impartial approach.
After welcoming him and thanking him
for his great trouble, Dr Alden insisted on seeing Elizabeth before retiring.
We entered her room and found Mrs Bingley cooling her brow. I introduced Dr Alden and he asked me to leave the room to perform his exam.
I could not go far, though, so I grabbed a chair and put it outside her door and waited, trying to listen to what was being said inside. Almost an hour later, and after a thorough examination, he invited me back in. Elizabeth was sleeping and seemed more comfortable.
“I gave her one of my sleeping draughts. Hopefully, she will sleep better for some hours.” Noticing my reticence to leave her bedroom, he bade Mrs Bingley a good night and invited me to the drawing room for a glass of brandy. “We have to talk.”
As soon as we were comfortably settled in the drawing room, he said, “Darcy, I will not lie to you. I am very intrigued by Miss Bennet’s condition. I wish I could give you better news, especially because of your engagement, but I am not sure if I can. She is suffering from a very unusual kind of fever. There is no apparent reason for it. Even the cut on her leg is healing well. Her difficulty breathing is definitely another mystery. Apart from those two symptoms, she seems to be a healthy young lady, which suggests her condition is actually the result of poisoning.”
“Poisoning?” I could not contain my astonishment. I was not expecting it. “But how? If it was something in the places we were that poisoned her, should I not be suffering the same symptoms? We slept in the same places and drank from the same water. I did not leave her side throughout the entire night.”
“Hmm…” Dr Alden raised his glass to his lips, taking a sip. “The entire night you say? Perhaps it is time for you to tell me the whole story then. I know by the look of the driver who brought me here today something strange is happening here.” He paused and stared at me. “I have been looking after your family since you were a little boy. You know you can trust me.”