Mr. Darcy's Obsession

by Abigail Reynolds

  “Do you think so? Our poor uncle! I hope he has not strained his finances unduly.”

  Elizabeth was almost relieved to see Jane’s hands clutching the blanket as a new pain occurred. She did not want to discuss her suspicions about the source of the money, but it touched her heart to know that she was dear enough to Mr. Darcy to undertake such a mortification and expense. It could not be but for her sake.

  Elizabeth remained at Jane’s bedside through the night. In the morning the midwife, who had been dozing in snatches, announced that she doubted the babe would arrive before that afternoon, and that she planned to sleep while she could.

  Jane’s face fell at her words. Elizabeth said, “May I give her some more laudanum? She needs to rest, too.”

  The midwife shook her head. “Only a sip or two. Laudanum is both a blessing and a curse in childbed; it lessens the pain, but without the suffering, the labour may drag on.”

  After the midwife’s advice, Jane would take only the barest taste of laudanum, and it calmed the pains but little. Elizabeth did her best to tend to Jane’s needs, watching her increasing exhaustion with concern, and tried to provide entertainment by reading aloud and relaying all the village gossip.

  “Tell me about Mr. Darcy,” Jane said, her words slowed. “You never told me what he spoke to you about.”

  Elizabeth’s heart was in her throat. Had Jane discovered her secret? She sighed with relief. Of course Jane knew that she had seen Mr. Darcy in the shop and walked with him and was but enquiring after an old acquaintance. “He is well, I believe. He has been in London with his sister.”

  “Oh, yes, he has a sister, that is right. The one Miss Bingley wanted her brother to marry.”

  How little Jane knew of what had truly come to pass! “I met Miss Darcy in London, walking in Hyde Park. She is a sweet girl, much younger than he is. Not at all what I had expected from Mr. Wickham’s description of her. He called her proud, but she is nothing of the sort.”

  Jane’s arms tensed. Elizabeth slipped the twisted rag between her sister’s teeth and watched her bite down on it, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Poor Jane. How was she to keep her strength up if this continued much longer?

  The least Elizabeth could do was to distract Jane a little. As Jane relaxed, Elizabeth wiped her forehead. “It was quite an encounter. Miss Darcy and her brother were passing by when Andrew fell into the Serpentine. Mr. Darcy was kind enough to fish him out, at the expense of his own clothes, I fear. They invited us to their townhouse so poor Andrew would not take a chill.”

  “You went to their house? What was it like?”

  Seeing Jane’s interest piqued, Elizabeth launched into a detailed description of the Darcy townhouse. She managed to make the tale last through two more contractions.

  “It was kind of Mr. Darcy to take such pains. After all, it had been years since he had seen you, and even then, the acquaintance was slight.”

  “Did I not tell you I saw him again in Kent?” She imitated Mr. Collins’s sycophantic tones. “He is the nephew of none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who condescended to invite us to Rosings when he was visiting her.” Her manner made Jane laugh weakly, so she continued, describing Colonel Fitzwilliam and the residents of Rosings in terms Mr. Collins might use.

  Jane clutched Elizabeth’s wrist hard enough to leave red marks, then, as she relaxed, said, “Why did you never tell me about him when you returned from Kent?”

  “So much was happening with our father’s illness, and then it slipped my mind.” This was not the moment to admit that she had never mentioned it for fear of reminding Jane of Mr. Bingley’s betrayal.

  Jane leaned back against the bedstead, her eyes closed. “Mr. Bingley told me he saw you in London, as well.”

  “He did?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Did he return to Netherfield, then? I never heard of it.” Apparently Jane had been keeping her own counsel as well.

  “No, he came here last summer, to see me. He wished to assure himself I was well.”

  Elizabeth swallowed an exclamation of surprise. She would never have expected such behaviour from Mr. Bingley. “And you spoke to him?”

  “Yes. Do you know, he told me he had always loved me, and left only after being persuaded of my indifference towards him? Can you imagine? How could he have thought me indifferent?”

  Elizabeth wondered more how Mr. Bingley had come to be having such a discussion with a married woman. “He should not have believed such a thing.”

  Jane’s face tightened as a new pain began, one that seemed to last even longer that the others. At the end, she seemed to drift off into a half-sleep, hardly surprising, since she had not slept for two nights. Elizabeth kept silent to give her sister what rest she could, but it lasted only until the next pain began and Jane awoke with a scream of agony. As the pain passed, Elizabeth was surprised to see a slight smile on Jane’s face.

  “Do you know, Lizzy,” Jane said, her eyes closed and her words slightly slurred, “I let him kiss me.”

  Elizabeth’s astonishment knew no bounds, but she was not in a position to criticize, having allowed Mr. Darcy’s kiss. “You did?”

  “Yes, it was lovely.” Jane’s eyes opened, and she looked anxious. “I know you must disapprove, but I wanted, for one time in my life, to know what it meant to be kissed by the man I love. I have done my duty to my family. Was one kiss too much to ask?”

  “No, indeed.” Elizabeth stroked Jane’s damp hand soothingly. “You need not fear; it will be our secret.”

  “You do not think me completely lacking in morals?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I wanted you to know, before—” Jane’s eyelids drifted down again.

  Elizabeth’s chest tightened, but she would not give way to tears that might worry Jane. “Nonsense. You are exhausted, Jane, nothing more. Once the babe is born, this will all be a fading memory, and we will laugh at it.”

  Jane turned her face away. “It does not matter. There is nothing for me here.”

  Elizabeth sought desperately for anything that might catch Jane’s interest in living. “I have a confession of my own. Once I let Mr. Darcy kiss me.”

  Jane’s eyes flew open. “Mr. Darcy? You didn’t!”

  She had to keep Jane alert. “I did. In London. For a time, he came to see me almost every day, when I walked in Moorsfield.” Seeing Jane’s interest, she continued to recount the tale of their walks, making it as amusing as possible, praying that there was no one outside the room who might overhear. “So after that day, I thought I would never see him again, and that I had spoilt all my chances, but then he found me in Hyde Park.”

  “And came to see you here. He must love you very much.” Jane sounded wistful.

  “Yes, well, that was before Lydia’s disgrace,” Elizabeth said briskly.

  “It is a pity you told him of it, now that Lydia is to marry.”

  “I suspect it is the other way around. I told Mr. Darcy of her situation, and then Lieutenant Ralston proposed to her. I would be surprised if Mr. Darcy had no hand in it.” She wondered how he had discovered the lieutenant’s identity.

  “He is a good man.” Jane’s breath caught as she struggled once more. When she could speak again, she said, “Wake Mrs. Stevenson. I need to push.”

  Elizabeth had rarely been so glad to hear anything in her life. She ran out of the room to fetch the midwife.

  Mrs. Stevenson seemed pleased with Jane’s progress, even as her agony increased with pushing. “’Tis normal, Miss Lizzy. It will take time, as she is so weakened already.”

  It seemed to go on forever, though afterwards, Elizabeth realized it could not have been more than an hour. During that timeless period, she could think of nothing but whispering encouragement to Jane, urging her not to give up. Once, between pains, Jane said, “Fear not, Lizzy. I plan to live to see you wed.”

  If it gave Jane reason to live, it was well worth having betrayed her secret love for Mr. Darcy. “I shall count on it.�
�� She wiped Jane’s brow with a damp cloth.

  “It is crowning!” Mrs. Stevenson exclaimed. “It will not be long now.”

  Indeed, Elizabeth could glimpse the top of a head covered with matted baby hair. The rest of the head took many pushes to emerge, but then the baby slipped out quickly into Mrs. Stevenson’s waiting hands and duly began to howl. As the midwife tied off the cord, she said, “Miss Lizzy, run and tell Mr. Browning he has a lusty son.”

  A ghost of a smile curved Jane’s exhausted lips.

  ***

  Simms rapped lightly on the door of Darcy’s study before opening it. “Mr. Bingley to see you, sir.”

  Darcy barely took a moment to replace his pen in its holder before striding across the room to greet his friend. “Bingley, what a happy surprise! I did not know you were back among us.” He shook his hand firmly.

  Bingley grinned broadly. “Not for long. I am only in town for business, some problems with our suppliers. But I decided that giving up old habits was no reason I must give up my old friends as well.”

  “Indeed not! I am glad to see you.” Darcy crossed to the sideboard and filled two glasses with the brandy Bingley had always favoured. “Here, make yourself comfortable. You do still indulge, do you not?”

  Bingley accepted the glass and held it in both hands. “I am not such a Puritan as that, old man. In Scarborough, one needs spirits to stay warm at night.”

  So Bingley still had not found a woman. Darcy had hoped that the distance and time would have allowed him to forget Jane Bennet. “How long will you be in London? Have you opened your townhouse again?”

  “It is not worth the trouble. I plan to stay at the Clarendon.” Bingley swirled the brandy and sniffed appreciatively.

  “A hotel? Nonsense. You must stay here and tell me of all your adventures,” Darcy said briskly. Bingley’s presence would serve as a distraction from his worry over what might be happening in Meryton.

  “Well, if you insist and it will be no imposition, I will accept your invitation.” Bingley raised his glass to Darcy. “To old friends.”

  “To old friends,” Darcy echoed. It was good to have Bingley back again.

  Chapter 13

  The note from Derby House was not a surprise. Darcy had been expecting a confrontation with Henry after the recent events and had made a point of remaining at home as much as possible. Georgiana should not have to face their cousin alone. A meeting at Derby House was better, in any case. This way Georgiana would not hear any details of their discussion. He read once more the note written in an elegant secretary’s script. The Right Honourable the Viscount Langley requests the honour of your presence at your earliest convenience. There was no point in waiting, so after leaving Simms strict instructions that Georgiana was not to receive callers during his absence, Darcy proceeded to Grosvenor Square.

  He had never liked Derby House. It was too ostentatious for his taste, dark and imposing. Today he was not in a humour to pay his surroundings any mind. At least his uncle was not at home; he did not need that conflict as well. He found Henry in the parlour, his feet up and his hand prominently bandaged, two servants tending to him.

  “More wine, damn your eyes!” Henry made an attempt to cuff the manservant, who flinched away. “Now, I said! Do you not realize I am ill? Oh, Darcy, you are here. It took you long enough.”

  “I am sorry to hear you are unwell.” Darcy’s mouth twisted. Henry was always ready to play the invalid role at the least excuse.

  “Unwell? Look at this?” Henry belligerently stuck out his hand, lifting off the bandage to reveal puncture marks between his thumb and forefinger. Apparently Mary had sharp teeth. His hand was red and swollen near the wounds, but the injury was certainly not such that Henry could not have gone about his everyday activities. Then again, given what Henry’s daily activities were likely to include, perhaps Darcy should be thankful to see him staying at home where only his own servants would be the recipients of his ill temper.

  “Look what your damned brat of a girl did to me.” Henry eased his hand down as if the effort caused him enormous pain, something Darcy seriously doubted. “She deserves to be whipped within an inch of her life.”

  “For defending herself?” Darcy asked mildly.

  “For disobedience, damn it. You need to take your servants in hand. That slut was taking advantage of Georgiana, who should not even be in the same room with her. Since you are so damned soft with your servants, I decided to teach her a lesson about keeping her place. Your father knew how to handle servants. I do not know why you let them run wild.”

  The sad thing was that Henry no doubt believed himself in the right. It was hopeless to try to convince him otherwise. “I would hardly say they run wild. I was aware of the time Mary spent with Georgiana, and I had no objection to it. In any case, the decision is mine to make.”

  “Why should you care what happens to the little vixen? Do not tell me you have come to care for her! No bedmate is worth that.”

  “Hardly, and she is not my bedmate.” He had not meant to say it, but it was a relief to do so.

  “At Rosings, you were not so fastidious. Do not put on your church manners for me.”

  The heat of anger coiled through Darcy’s chest. “Not even then. I said it to safeguard the girl from you. I do not take pleasure in hurting young girls.”

  “Hurt her? She was lucky to have such an opportunity.”

  “So you believe! Have you ever considered whether those less fortunate than you might have sensibilities as well? Is your birthright a license to abuse others at will? If so, I hope you never encounter someone with power greater than your own, or you may learn why you are so resented and disliked.” Darcy could hardly believe the words coming from his mouth.

  “You forget yourself, Darcy.” Henry bit his lip.

  Darcy recalled Mary sobbing in the kitchen, her face bruised. “I would rather say that I have remembered myself. Do not interfere with my staff again.”

  His cousin surged to his feet. “Your servants are not the only ones who are above themselves. I see I must teach you a lesson you will not forget, cousin.” He swayed slightly. “As soon as my hand is healed, you may be sure I will attend to it.”

  “That may have been effective when we were boys and I was half your size, but it will not work now.” It had happened often enough. Henry had frequently bullied both Richard and the young Darcy. Now Darcy realized that his habit of giving way to Henry was nothing more than a childhood fear of an older boy.

  Henry’s lips pursed and his face grew red. “Perhaps we should use men’s weapons, then.”

  Was his idle, indolent cousin actually challenging him? Darcy would have been tempted to laugh, had fury not controlled his being. Henry no doubt expected him to back down as he always had, but he had come too far for that. With a start, he realized that he would be all too happy to meet Henry at sword’s point, and not only because he knew himself to be the better swordsman. He gave a stiff nod. “I will wait to hear from you.”

  His blood thrummed in his ears as he stalked out of Derby House, grabbing his hat and gloves unceremoniously from the butler. Once outside under the cloudy skies, he took a deep gulp of London air, tasting the ever-present soot. He strode across the square, past a crowd of noisy roisterers, with a heavy heart. There could be no good outcome from this.

  ***

  Jane cradled the baby in her arm as he nursed. “Lizzy, I am quite recovered. You should return to London.”

  Elizabeth did not need to ask why Jane was so eager for her to depart. “You should not put so much stock in Mr. Darcy. I will leave in a few days, perhaps, if you are stronger.”

  Jane’s brows drew together. “You doubt his constancy, after all this time?”

  “I do not doubt his affections or wishes. I also do not doubt that his family will be violently opposed to any match between us. It is easy for him to love me privately, but making it public is another matter. He may decide the price is too high.” It was not a
subject she enjoyed contemplating.

  “He knows your worth, Lizzy. No price is too high.” Jane’s eyes grew dreamy as she gazed down at her son.

  Nothing could reach Jane when she was lost in loving contemplation of the infant. “If you say so.” A racket of bells came from the shop. “I should go help.” She placed a cloth over Jane’s shoulder before passing through into the shop.

  The cause of the noise was immediately clear. Lydia cried Elizabeth’s name and flung herself into her sister’s arms with a histrionic flair that would have better befitted the stages of Drury Lane than the streets of Meryton. Lieutenant Ralston followed her in a more sedate manner, his smirk winning him no favour in his new sister’s eyes. Lydia fluttered her left hand prominently in front of Elizabeth. “I declare, when I went away I had no notion of being married when I came back, but it is a fine joke, is it not?” She spoke loudly, as if any of the customers could have missed her entrance.

  “Odd, I would have thought you might have had at least a slight notion,” said Elizabeth dryly. She could tell that the smiles directed at her visibly increasing sister were derogatory rather than admiring, but to Lydia it seemed to make no difference.

  “Nonsense,” Lydia declared. “You are jealous that I am a married woman and you are not. Mama says I was very clever.”

  “Cleverness of that sort has never been my goal, but you have my best wishes.”

  Lydia grabbed Lieutenant Ralston’s hand. “Do I not have the handsomest husband?”

  “I always admire a gentleman whose behaviour is as handsome as his face.”

  If Lydia noted the slight in Elizabeth’s words, she gave no sign of it. “Dearest Ralston, that red ribbon would look so handsome on my new bonnet, would it not?”