Mr. Darcy's Great Escape

by Marsha Altman

  “I didn’t ask him. He always refuses me when I want to buy things, so why should he say yes now? He’s such an obstinate man! I have no idea how you put up with him—well, aside from the obvious comforts and security—”

  “Lydia,” Elizabeth interrupted, not sure whether disgust or alarm was going to overwhelm her first, “who needs a doctor?”

  “It was nothing—but I wanted one for George. So I had to ask Papa.”

  “And Papa refused?”

  “No, of course he didn’t. Papa has all this money now, thanks to Mary, but he’s so stingy with it, because it’s Mary’s—”

  Elizabeth shook her head. Trying to keep Lydia in the same conversational direction was difficult. “So George saw a doctor. What was the matter?”

  “Nothing. Or that’s what the doctor said. He said it was a fluke thing, and even when it happened again, the doctor said he still couldn’t find anything—”

  “What happened?”

  “It was silly, almost,” Lydia said, though Elizabeth could hardly imagine anything that required a doctor to be considered “silly.” “I took George with me on an errand to Meryton and he wandered off. It was his first time alone in Town, so I suppose it was all distracting, but when I found him in a bookstore, he was sitting on a chair, and the owner was giving him tea and said he had fainted.”

  “From what?”

  “We don’t know. Didn’t I already say that?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Apparently, there were a lot of people there, and the shopkeeper finally noticed this little boy with nobody by his side, and so he went up to him and asked him who he was, and George just collapsed. He was only out for a few seconds, but he had a little bump on his head for a while from the floor, and so I asked Papa, and we called a doctor, who said he wasn’t sick. But if we had a little money—”

  “What did George say?”

  Lydia looked at her as if the question was bizarre. “He’s a child, Lizzy.”

  “I know that, but surely you asked him if something was troubling him? If he had a headache?”

  “Oh, of course the doctor asked him all kinds of questions, but he said he didn’t feel ill. He just looked up at the shopkeeper, and then the next thing he remembered he was on the floor. But the doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with him, and I almost forgot about the whole thing until it happened again.”

  “When?” Elizabeth said, trying to maintain her composure. She had never been close with the Wickhams for obvious reasons, but George was her nephew on both sides, and Darcy cared enough about him to set up a fund to make sure the boy would not have to worry about money when he came of age.

  “I don’t know, a few weeks later. We were at church, and you know how Papa always hurries home. I decided to stay and chat for once. Some new people had come to the parsonage, and I wanted to meet them—some of them were very handsome—and I had George with me because he didn’t want to leave me. Isabel was with Mama. In the crowd, someone said something to George, and out he went. Fortunately it was on the grass—you know that area in front of the churchyard? It wasn’t as bad of a bump this time, hardly anything at all.”

  “But you saw it this time.”

  “Yes. But he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to see the doctor, but Papa wouldn’t hear of it, and so the doctor came and said he couldn’t find a reason. It wasn’t fits, and George doesn’t have headaches, so he’s not sick.”

  “And since then?”

  “Well, he hasn’t been out much. Certainly I’m not going to take him to Meryton if he’s going to complain the whole time that he doesn’t want to go—”

  “Lydia,” Elizabeth interrupted again, holding her tongue about Lydia’s parenting skills, or the inappropriateness of using church to socialize with the new men in town, “if it happens again, I would like to know. And for the record, if you did not have Papa, we would pay for the doctor.”

  “But Mr. Darcy has been so stingy in the past—”

  “About clothing for you, yes, but not about this. This is your son’s health. Our nephew’s health.” She added, “Thank you for telling me.”

  The topic extinguished, Lydia began to chat about the goings-on in Meryton, but Elizabeth heard very little.

  ***

  As Lydia was shown to her rooms and unpacked, Elizabeth had a spare moment to herself and had her tea reheated so she could finally enjoy it. She was beginning to relax when Lord and Lady Matlock entered, taking a break from keeping their mother company. “Are we interrupting?”

  “No, please,” she said. “My sister Lydia has just arrived. I’m sure she will be making her presence known soon enough. At least Geoffrey has someone to play with—if that is a good idea.” She needed to tell someone—unburden herself. She told them of Lydia’s minor tirade.

  She turned to Fitzwilliam, but he had only a concerned look on his face, like something was bothering him. “Colo—Lord Richard?”

  “I was just—remembering something. It is probably unrelated. After all, Master George is only Darcy’s half-nephew, so—”

  Instinctual alarm rising, Elizabeth immediately said, “What is it?”

  “It’s uhm—well, I can’t say I remember it perfectly, but I do remember something about a fainting spell of Darcy’s—when he was younger.” He frowned. “I must have only been seven or eight at the time, so you will excuse me, but—Yes! Now I remember.”

  “We are all ears, Richard,” Anne said before Elizabeth had to, obviously sensing her trepidation.

  “It was—I don’t know the year. I must have been about eight, Darcy four or five. I remember I was in Town with my parents and brother. At the time they were more regular theater patrons and had a box or two, and so we were often in Town. But this was something like the first time the young Darcy—well, Master Fitzwilliam—came to Town with his father, who had some business. We knew each other from Rosings, but not that well. Lady Anne was still alive, and so she visited, and we played together in the house in the square. But then a few days into the trip, something happened, and the Darcys went home, and I remember it because I was a little disappointed at losing a playmate, even if he was younger than me, because my brother was in his teens and ignoring me.” A sad look passed over his face at the mention of his late brother, but he managed to continue, “What happened was, apparently—Darcy was walking with his mother on the road, I think they were going to see the royal gardens, and Darcy fainted. There was a great fuss over it, of course. They called for all kinds of doctors, but they said it was exhaustion, and he was stuck in bed for a few days. I came to visit, and he complained about not being tired, but his nurse wouldn’t let him up. But he seemed fine, so they very cautiously let him out again, this time with his nurse accompanying Lady Anne.

  “The second time, I believe it was in a store. Darcy went down, and their first concern was his head, but he wasn’t concussed. In fact, once they brought him around, he seemed fine. But as my mother told me later that night, the Darcys had decided that there was something in the air in Town—which, after all, is very bad—that was bothering his little lungs, and they must retire immediately to better climate. I was very upset, but I was too old to be throwing tantrums. I didn’t see him again until that Easter for our annual visit to Rosings, and he told me he was fine and didn’t want to talk about it. I can’t remember the topic ever being broached again. I assume, the next time he was in Town, he was fine.”

  Elizabeth digested this story with her tea, which had cooled during the conversation. “Darcy has never told me this.”

  “I don’t imagine he would. He was a small child. He may not even remember it. And nothing came of it.”

  “But it is an… odd coincidence, don’t you think?” Anne said.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, Mrs. Darcy—has Geoffrey ever—”

  “No. And he’s been to Town for his cousins’ birthdays. I can�
�t imagine—” It was a frightful thing to imagine, something strange happening to her son and the doctors not having an answer. But then again, as Fitzwilliam insisted, nothing had come of it. Still, she would ask Dr. Maddox about it when he returned.

  When he returned, not if, she reminded herself.

  Chapter 11

  The Purest Love

  “Mrs. Darcy? Are you awake?”

  She was. Despite the late hour, Elizabeth was sitting on the rug in the corner of her room, trying to find her balance despite her illness. Fortunately it was only her lady-maid, whom she held in the highest confidence out of sheer necessity. “Yes. Come in.”

  Hannah entered and bowed. “Mrs. Darcy, do you need something?”

  “Some of that ginger tea?”

  “Of course. Lady Catherine is calling for you. Do you wish me to say you’re asleep?”

  Elizabeth put her hand on her forehead. “No—I will speak to her. I just need a moment to collect myself.” She couldn’t possibly have anything left in her stomach. She’d hardly eaten anything today. Hannah was instantly gathering a shawl to cover her and helping her up. Her lady’s illness and its origin was a secret kept only between the two of them—at least for the moment. Fortunately, there was no one qualified to notice the signs and not chalk them up to nervousness about her husband’s situation. Anne and Georgiana had never been with child, Lord Richard lacked the expertise for obvious reasons, and Lady Catherine rarely left her sitting room. Elizabeth managed to carry her own candlestick, but she needed some assistance staying on her feet until she reached Lady Catherine’s quarters, and was ushered in by her ladyship’s servants.

  Lady Catherine was sitting up in bed, her hair in knots and uncovered.

  “Lady Catherine? Are you well?”

  “Mrs. Darcy,” she replied. Her physical appearance did not match her voice, which was full of vibrancy. “The question is—are you well?”

  “I am, Lady Catherine.”

  “May I see your daughter?”

  She did not comment on the oddity of the question. “Which one, Your Ladyship?”

  “The one I have not met—your youngest.”

  “Sarah. Yes, if you wish,” Elizabeth said, and motioned for a servant to approach, to whom she whispered that her sleeping daughter be brought to her. Sarah Darcy was now eight months old and slept through the night—if uninterrupted.

  Her daughter was not kept far from her and was quickly available. Sarah was still asleep when she was passed to her mother’s careful arms and then Lady Catherine’s. She held her grandniece in her arms until Sarah showed signs of stirring, and she passed her off to the servant. “A strong child. She will most likely survive.”

  “Thank you, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth said, knowing it was best to take her compliments where she could get them.

  “All of your children born have survived—that is quite an accomplishment. Your boisterous nature and my nephew’s good breeding seem to have made a good combination.” Before Elizabeth could comment, she went on, “My sister was the quieter of the two of us. Isn’t it odd how traits seem to skip around in families of their own will? I was the insistent one, and yet it did nothing for my children.” Without missing a beat, she met Elizabeth’s blank stare. “Close your mouth, you silly girl. I had four of them. Anne was the only one who lived past infancy.”

  “I apologize, Lady Catherine; I had no idea—”

  “There’s no reason to go unburying old stories that are better where they lay, Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Catherine said, but for a moment her voice was not so arrogant, her tone not so forceful. “Your generation will have your share. As I failed to produce an heir, I tried at least to guide the rest of the family—and look where it left me.”

  “Your daughter is happily married, as are both your nephews,” Elizabeth said, for once not to be mean or clever, but to state the comforting fact. “I would prefer that over many relations in unhappy circumstances, no matter how they benefit the family lineage.”

  Lady Catherine said nothing for a long moment. Elizabeth even thought she was in danger of nodding off in her chair herself, so exhausted from her illness and from constantly worrying for her husband. Only her aunt’s sharp voice woke her from her doze. “You should hope for a boy, of course, if something happens to Geoffrey. Oh, there was a name I never thought I would be saying with any affection again. Fitzwilliam was of course unknowing of his father’s nature when he named his son after him.”

  “Darcy does hold his father in great esteem,” Elizabeth said, “even to this day. No man is without faults.”

  “And would you tolerate the same particular one in your own husband?”

  “Oh God, no,” Elizabeth said before she could stop herself.

  “I was not raised to expect a husband to be faithful,” Lady Catherine said. “Lewis was. This was because he dropped dead promptly before he had time to develop any interest in another woman. He literally fell over like that—right on the staircase.” Despite the subject, there was no pain or anger in her voice. Elizabeth did not know how to respond, and said nothing until Lady Catherine and she both broke into simultaneous laughter.

  “That is your choice, Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Catherine said with a smile. “You can have a few children who pop up as adults and scare the daylights out of you, or you can have Darcy take a spill on his great estate.”

  “If those are my only choices, it is a wonder that anyone is eager to be married at all!”

  More laughter. Lady Catherine had some of the cold tea that was sitting in a cup by her bed stand.

  “Mrs. Darcy, I do feel for you sometimes,” Lady Catherine said, “when my senses don’t get the better of me. Shameful familial connections, multiple bastard brother-in-laws—however good one of them may be—a meddling aunt through marriage, and now, a husband who apparently requires a leash to keep him in England.”

  “It is a shame, then, that your senses do not more regularly fail you.”

  “Yes. We might even come to some understanding, then,” she said, leaning back a bit more. “Good night, Mrs. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth rose and curtseyed. “Lady Catherine.” With her eyes already closed, Lady Catherine failed to notice when Elizabeth bused her teacup, taking it out of the room and shutting the door behind her before taking a sip.

  Just as she thought, tea with a healthy helping of brandy.

  ***

  Charles Bingley arrived to his own bedchamber late. Jane had done her best to stay awake, an admirable effort that ended with her head still on the pillow in a doze, a book still in her hands, and the candle still lit beside her. He smiled and snuffed out her candle before climbing into bed beside her. He had no initial intention of waking her. She did that job herself, rolling over so she was leaning on his shoulder. “What is the time?”

  “Late,” he said. “I’m sorry—I was caught up in ledgers.”

  “Are you going to Town this week?”

  “Maybe. I’ve not decided.”

  “But you do want to do this.”

  “Ideally, yes,” he said, “but the timing is exceptionally poor. I don’t want to leave you here with my sister.”

  “Charles!” Jane said, waking up from the stimulation of conversation. “Your sister is not so terrible!”

  “I know you wouldn’t think that,” he said, kissing her knuckles. “And she is—more like her old self, now that she is settled.”

  “Her old self?”

  “When we were younger, before she was out. Everything was different when my sisters went out. It comes with being the baby in the family.”

  “My poor Charles,” she said, stroking his hair. She did love his hair, which was more of a bright orange. She loved it in her first daughter, even if Georgiana had to be forced to brush it. “Whatever did you do?”

  “I remember moping quite a bit. I’m sure Carol
ine would be happy to expound on the subject without any prompting whatsoever,” he said. “Still, that was not precisely what I meant. I do not want to leave you so, constantly with six children, while I go on some business adventure for my own amusement.”

  “You will hardly be leaving me all alone. Do you forget so easily that I was raised with one maid and no governess?”

  “You misunderstand me,” Bingley said. “I mean—I will be leaving you alone.” He kissed her to reinforce the point. It seemed to have the desired effect. It was very hard to respond to that with a contradiction, especially with his hand softly running down her chest.

  “Charles,” she whispered softly. “Should we?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—it seems unfair.”

  He had to search to find his answer. “My dear, suffering alongside Elizabeth and Caroline will not make this time go by any faster. We love them, we support them, but we don’t have to be them.” He frowned. “Plus I’d rather not think about this subject in concerns to my sister or yours. It does bring about distasteful imagery.”

  She giggled. “Now I’m thinking of it! Charles!”

  “At least we are of the same mind, the same disquieting mind.” He kissed her cheek. “If you think our own abstention will bring Darcy and the doctor back faster, then I will respect your wishes. But we have no evidence of it, or evidence of the contrary being true.” He blinked. “I think I just confused myself.”

  Jane laughed and kissed him. “Your argument was convincing nonetheless.”

  That, he would not argue with.

  ***

  Darcy coughed into the hay. More specifically, it was a hack, enough to prick Dr. Maddox’s ears. “Darcy.”

  “What?” he replied, annoyed at the intrusion, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s all this damn hay and dust. And the fact that I’m freezing and haven’t had a bath in… how long?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  Darcy sighed and settled on the more clean and comfortable part of his haystack. Though Dr. Maddox insisted he get up and walk around at least once a day, it was getting harder and harder to do that. Aside from the guard, who didn’t speak a word of German, they saw no one.