The Dread Mr. Darcy

by Valerie Lennox

  “Elizabeth, I swear I do not understand you,” said her mother. “I would think that you would be overjoyed at this turn of events, but you have been so subdued since you heard the news. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  “Tell you?” Elizabeth turned to look at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Well, do you like this man? I suppose it might not be important, but if you really despise him, I want to know. We can’t very well stop the marriage, but I can invite you home for long holidays several times of the year, keep you away from him as much as possible.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Oh, Mama. No, I like him. I…” She looked at her hands. “I love him.”

  “Well, then…” Her mother furrowed her brow, seemingly at a loss. “Perhaps… and I mean to put this as delicately as possible, my darling, but perhaps the losing of your virtue was traumatic for you? Perhaps you are frightened of having to do that again?”

  Elizabeth flushed. “No, Mama, no.”

  “I can assure you that it does get easier. Even… pleasant.”

  “Please stop talking about this.”

  “I do not know that it is not a worse experience if one is not wed,” said her mother. “Perhaps it is much more frightening if you are worried the man involved will abandon you.”

  “Please, Mama.” Elizabeth was now thinking about the fact that the only experience her mother must have with the act was with Elizabeth’s father, and that was something she never wanted to think about.

  Luckily, they finally arrived at the church.

  Since she had no attendants, the procession was to be pitiful—only her mother, Mr. Collins, and herself. But she was glad of this, because she was happy enough not to have even more time between the time that she had to end this farcical marriage.

  Mr. Collins met them at the entrance to the church. He had been there since earlier, ostensibly to greet the guests. But as they invited no one, since everyone in the family was angry with Elizabeth and most of their friends were too scandalized to even think about showing their faces, there were only a few of the locals. Elizabeth could see them as she peered inside.

  The wedding march began to play.

  “Ah, that will be us, then,” said Mr. Collins, offering her his arm.

  Elizabeth had a pang, thinking of her father, who could not give her away, because he was gone. But then, she was glad. This would not be a day of joy, so she was happy her father would not see it.

  Her mother fussed over her veil, and then moved behind her. She would bring up the rear of the procession.

  There was a sour taste in the back of Elizabeth’s throat.

  She stared out into the church, at the fifteen or twenty people gathered there.

  At the front, the vicar stood at the pulpit, looking somber.

  And next to him…

  Oh, God, there was Darcy.

  A shudder seized her. She wanted him, wanted to be close to him forever.

  Oh, how could she stop the wedding? How could she?

  They stepped out between the pews, growing closer and closer to Darcy.

  She tried to gauge the expression on his face, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look cross either. He seemed proper and solemn and… was there a look of eagerness about him, or was that wishful thinking on her part?

  Everyone in the church stood up for her.

  The music pumped out of the organ, and she and her Mr. Collins kept time with their slow steps.

  Every step took her closer.

  She felt vaguely faint, and she wished she’d eaten a little less breakfast that morning. She was still trying to make up for that dreadful fast. But it wouldn’t have much mattered, she didn’t suppose. She was going to be out of sorts until she got this done.

  The only way to excise the awful feeling was to stop the wedding.

  After, she would not feel good about her life, but there would at least be a little relief.

  They stopped moving, only steps away from Darcy. He was looking at her, but he could not meet her eyes because of the veil.

  The vicar cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth felt dry. Suddenly, all the things that she was going to say flew out of her head. She had practiced them over and over, but now her mind was frustratingly blank.

  The vicar continued. “Which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.”

  Well, it didn’t matter what she said, did it? She would say whatever she could, even if it made no sense. If she spoke up, it wouldn’t matter.

  “First, it was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name,” droned the vicar.

  Oh, now she was starting to remember. How had she forgotten? She had only gone over this constantly this past week.

  “Secondly,” said the vicar, “it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.”

  She looked at Darcy again, but his eyes seemed to have glazed over. What was he thinking? If only she knew. She felt her hands starting to sweat inside her gloves. She looked up over the vicar’s head at the window, where sunlight was streaming in over all of them. Why was she getting married on such a pretty day? With what she had to do, it would have been more fitting if it had been gloomy and cloudy.

  The vicar coughed. “Excuse me,” he said. Returning to the text, he read, “Thirdly, it was—” He coughed again. He snorted a little, and rubbed his nose. “Beg pardon. Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.”

  Elizabeth’s body went tense all over. The time to speak was coming, and she knew what she had intended to say, but now she was beginning to think that it was a bad idea on the whole to say it at all. What if she gave Darcy the wrong idea? What if there was a chance, an infinitesimal chance, that he truly did want this marriage? And if she thoroughly botched it, there would be no way to salvage things. So, perhaps she should say something else. Perhaps. But what?

  “Therefore, if any man can show any just cause,” said the vicar.

  And then the vicar was overtaken by a fit of coughing.

  Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. What to say, what to say? She tapped her foot against the floor beneath her gown, trying to put together something that said what she wanted but was not actually so strongly off-putting… She was having no luck whatsoever.

  The vicar rubbed his nose again. “I’m so very sorry. Where was I?”

  Elizabeth was seized by panic. What was she going to say?

  “If any man can show any just cause,” repeated the vicar, “why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.”

  Elizabeth started.

  That was her cue.

  She opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out.

  Seconds ticked by.

  The vicar gave a cursory glance to the gathering, and then turned back to his book.

  Elizabeth licked her lips.

  The vicar cleared his
throat. “No one? Well, then let’s—”

  “I have something,” said Elizabeth.

  The vicar looked at her.

  Her mother looked at her.

  Darcy looked at her, and he looked the most stunned of them all.

  Elizabeth gulped. “May I… may I speak with the groom for just a moment?”

  The vicar harrumphed. “Now see here, this is most irregular. We are in the midst of the ceremony—”

  “What is it?” said Darcy, stepping down from where he stood next to the vicar to face her.

  Elizabeth moved away from her Mr. Collins. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered fiercely.

  Darcy looked around. “I think it’s bit late to get out of it.”

  “No, it’s not. And you do want to get out of it.” She swallowed again. “Don’t you?” Her voice was unsteady.

  “Do you want to get out of it?” he said.

  “I don’t want it if you don’t want it,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip again.

  “Oh, what kind of answer is that?” said Darcy. “Why are you saying this?”

  “Well… you came to see Mr. Collins, but you didn’t come to see me. I assumed you were doing this out of duty and honor, not because you truly wanted to. You’ve resisted marrying me before, and I didn’t want—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Darcy. “I would have come to see you, but I was in a desperate hurry to get to the apothecary before he closed.”

  “Because you needed laudanum,” she said.

  He drew in a breath. “If you want out of the marriage, considering how destroyed I am—”

  “No,” she said. “No, if you do not mind—”

  “I told you I loved you, did I not? Did you think I was lying?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Darcy turned around and went back up the steps to stand in front of the vicar.

  The vicar looked perturbed. “Well, is that all, then? Can I continue?”

  Everyone looked at Elizabeth again.

  “Yes,” she said in a soft voice.

  The ceremony went on, but she didn’t hear most of it. She could only think of what Darcy had said to her. He loved her. He loved her.

  Nothing else mattered.

  There was kneeling and hand holding and responses and a ring…

  And then they had to sign the register to seal their marriage, make it official.

  But Elizabeth fairly floated through all of it. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so happy in her entire life.

  * * *

  Elizabeth stood inside the bed chamber, dressed only in her shift. Her hair was down around her shoulders. It was her wedding night.

  “I suppose you have to be here,” Darcy said, throwing himself down in a chair next to the bed. There was a tray of fruit and cheese there. He picked off an apple, surveyed it, but did not eat it. “Have to keep up appearances and all of that.”

  “You don’t want me here?” she said, and she couldn’t help but be disappointed. They’d had little chance to talk all day, what with all of the to-do about the wedding.

  “I didn’t say that.” Darcy glared at her. “Stop it, Elizabeth, I mean it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop doing that female thing that you’re doing in which you’re so insecure in yourself that you keep digging for hidden meanings in my actions.” He pulled out his bottle of laudanum. “There’s nothing to unearth. I am an open book. I’ve married you because I want to, not because I feel forced. Trust me, if I’d wanted an excuse to get out of the whole thing, I could have easily found one.”

  She clasped her hands together and then unclasped them. She felt nervous, she realized.

  He took a drink of laudanum.

  She reached for the bottle before he could put it away, brought it to her lips, and took a pull.

  He snatched it back. “You really shouldn’t, you know.”

  “Because it’s dangerous, and I’ll grow to need it over time.”

  “Precisely.” He took another drink. “But I suppose you should have some kind of pleasure on your wedding night, even though nothing else can be done.” He handed her the bottle again.

  She took another drink. She was already beginning to feel the edges of the opium starting to seep into her. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Whatever, she felt better.

  She sat down on the bed, opposite him. “So, there is no chance that you and I will be able to…?” She had thought tonight of all nights, he might make a special effort to perform.

  He slouched in his chair, not looking at her. “I’m sorry. I did try. I made it through the morning without any, and I promised myself I would keep away from it all day. I wanted to at least have the energy to bring you pleasure, even if I couldn’t manage to achieve—but I failed. I had to have some. And then once I’d had a bit, I had to have some more.” He buried his hands in his hair and bowed forward in the chair. “It’s stronger than me. I can’t fight it.”

  Tentatively, she reached out and touched him. She ran her fingers over the top of his head. “It will be all right.”

  “It won’t.” He didn’t look up.

  She shut her eyes. “We’ll dream together again, and it will be all right. All I wanted was to be close to you.”

  He sighed. He lifted his head. “I am tired, Elizabeth. I have had too much. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay awake.” His eyes were half-lidded, she realized. “I’m afraid I am going to make you the worst husband in all of England.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You’re perfect.”

  He laughed, resting his head against the back of the chair. “You’re a wonderful liar, my sweet.” His eyes slid closed. He laughed again, a kind of wild, helpless noise. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  She touched his cheek. “Stop apologizing. I should apologize. I’m the one—”

  “You did nothing wrong at all.” His hand covered hers, holding it in place against his face.

  She kissed him.

  His lips were warm, but they barely seemed to move against hers. He moaned softly, and he tugged her into his lap.

  She lay her head on his chest, burrowing against him. She closed her eyes. “What do you see?” she whispered.

  “I see…” He sighed. “I see Death riding up the drive to Pemberley carrying an opium pipe, and leaving nothing but grinning skeletons in his wake.”

  “Darcy,” she murmured, furrowing her brow.

  He laughed again, that same unchecked noise. “I see you, and you are beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like me. What do you see?”

  She concentrated. Truly, she was not so deeply taken away by the opium to see anything yet, but she whispered, “I see us. I see you whole and healthy. I see…” She hesitated. “I see us with children. It could happen, Darcy. We are married now, and you need an heir, and I would like to give you one.”

  She waited for him to say something, to protest.

  But he said nothing.

  “Darcy?” she whispered. She sat up and surveyed him.

  His eyes were closed. His lips were barely parted.

  She nudged him. He barely responded.

  He was asleep.

  She waited for several seconds, and then she climbed out of his lap.

  Well. She didn’t think she could get him into the bed. He was too heavy, and she was not strong enough.

  And she wasn’t yet tired herself, so she wasn’t sure she could go to sleep.

  She looked around the room, but there was not much here to amuse herself with.

  Finally, she sat down on the other chair and began eating the fruit and cheese. She ate with gusto until the laudanum began to tug at her, making her feel languid and warm.

  Then she crawled to the bed, got under the covers, and closed her eyes.

  But when she did, the vision that Darcy had described to her flashed vividly before her.

  Gasping, she opened her eyes, horrified.

  Sh
e closed her eyes again.

  Nothing but warmth and darkness, like a gaping hole to the center of the earth.

  She let herself fall into it.

  She slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After the wedding, she and Darcy traveled to Pemberley, a journey that was long for Elizabeth because Darcy slept the entire way. When they arrived, he could hardly get out of the carriage to show her around her new home. He had to be helped up to his bedchamber by his valet and the coachman.

  Elizabeth hardly knew what to think or what to do.

  Days passed, and she got as settled as she could, meeting all the servants and finding her way about the place. It was a massive estate on extensive grounds, but most everything had gone to disrepair as Darcy had only kept the bare minimum of a staff at the place. Now, with him back, she inquired whether they might not bring the place back to its former glory.

  Darcy had no objections. Indeed, he opened his books to her, saying that he trusted her judgment and could not possibly pay any of it any mind.

  No, Darcy was too busy with his opium dreams.

  Elizabeth thought to herself that if he saw that Pemberley could be restored, it would help inspire him to want to take back control of the estate again. He would feel pride in his home, pride in his wife, and that would engender some pride within himself. Not the evil kind of pride that went before a fall, but the pride that allowed a man to feel worth something.

  Wasn’t he always saying he was worthless?

  He needed something to fight for, and she aimed to give it to him. So, she threw herself into working on the estate, ordering servants here and there, having new curtains made, rooms scrubbed from top to bottom, furniture mended and shuffled from room to room. She even had a bit of work done on the gardens. It was fall, so most of what could be done was only preparation for spring time.

  It took weeks, and for much of that time, she didn’t see much of Darcy. He sometimes came down for dinner, but more often than not, he simply fell asleep in his chair and the servants had to carry him up to bed.

  When she was done, and there was no more to do to fix up the estate, she went into his bedchamber the following morning.