by Louise, Kara
When the reverend greeted the congregation, he mentioned the recovery of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and how honoured they were to have him in their midst this very day. There was a general rise of voices and those people who had not seen him come in craned their necks to get a glimpse of him. This added to his already burgeoning discomfort.
All heads bowed as the reverend led in prayer. Darcy looked down, but did not close his eyes. There were few people here that Darcy would consider a close acquaintance. There were some who were employed at Pemberley in some sort of servitude, whether it be in the kitchen, the stables or on the grounds. The Reynolds and Winstons were here, but most of the others he knew only slightly. The remaining people were common townsfolk from Lambton or other nearby villages.
The congregation recited the Lord's Prayer, and then the reverend began his sermon. Darcy found it difficult to keep his thoughts engaged on his message. He often looked down at this sister who was completely riveted to the reverend’s words. He smiled at her as he pondered how grown-up she suddenly appeared.
Suddenly the words of the reverend hit a resounding chord within him. "Listen to what the gospel of Matthew says about giving ourselves to others: "When he was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him. And behold, a leper came and worshipped him saying, 'Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean.' And Jesus put forth His hand, and touched him, saying 'I will. Be thou clean.' And immediately his leprosy was cleansed."
Darcy knew not why he was now giving the reverend his attention, but he was. "Our Lord Jesus reached out to this man who was a leper. In these times, if you were a leper, you were considered an outcast of the society; you even had to live outside the city and shout, 'Unclean!' if someone approached. There were strict guidelines as to how close someone could come to you. No one could touch you. You were, in a sense, isolated, alone, condemned.
"But here was the Lord, having compassion on him, wanting to heal him. All he had to do was say the word and he would be healed. But he did not. He reached out and touched him. He touched a man who had not been touched by another person in probably some time. Rather than just take the easy way out to help him and just say the words, he gave of Himself. He reached out and personally touched him."
With that, he closed his Bible and looked up. "How many times do we take the easy way out when we try to help someone? Do we just send some money, send some food, or worse, send someone else to take care of it? Do we think that by giving things we are doing all we can? We have our Lord as our example. He gave Himself, wholly and unreservedly to people. We need to do the same.
"I am not saying that to give charitably is wrong. Sometimes a need is met best by a monetary gift or a meal or clothing. But what I am saying is that things should never become a substitute for you."
Darcy felt the words pierce him. He gave a slight glance at his sister and wondered whether she had hinted to the reverend to speak on this subject. No, she was too shy to do something like that. But he felt like he was speaking directly to him! In his mind he began arguing with God as to why he was a most giving and charitable man, even though it was mainly in the form of monetary gifts. He often gave bonuses at the holidays and extra assistance when needed by his staff. He sent very nice gifts for weddings, new babies. He contributed substantially when he became aware of a need. He gave to most any worthy cause! He was guilty of taking the easy way out!
"As we close in prayer today, ask God to help you look for ways to give of yourself in ways you never have before. Let us pray."
Darcy's heart was pounding. What was this he was feeling? Providential conviction? Or was it just coincidence? He found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Was God trying to get through to him, or was he just acute to this subject because of Elizabeth's and Georgiana's recent sketch of his character?
At the amen, the organist began playing and the congregation stood to leave. Darcy wished to depart directly, but he had a suspicion that Georgiana made other plans. He found himself hoping that no one would approach him and mention his accident. It was an unsettling feeling knowing everyone here knew of it. It made him feel very weak and vulnerable.
As they walked out, he was amazed at the people Georgiana knew and addressed. Most people politely acknowledged Darcy but did not approach him. As they came to the parish doors, the reverend reached out his hand to Darcy. "Again, I am very glad you were able to join us today. May God give you continued grace and strength." He squeezed Darcy’s hand and smiled.
"Thank you, Reverend."
When Darcy turned, he noticed Georgiana speaking with several of the parishioners. He stood off to one side, waiting for her to finish. Before she returned, however, he saw the Reynolds family. He walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds and was grateful for their company whilst waiting for his sister.
When Georgiana finished her conversation and returned to him, they both bid farewell to the Reynolds and walked to their carriage. As they stepped in, Darcy inquired, "So, going to church was how you planned to change me?"
She looked at him and smiled. "Oh, no, that was just the beginning. We are going back to Pemberley, have something to eat, let you rest a bit, and then we will be going to visit the Franks and the Wilcox family."
Darcy looked at her in disbelief. "What?"
"You heard what I said. I talked with each of them after church and inquired whether we could stop by. I made sure they knew we were going home first to eat so they would not feel obligated to serve us a meal."
"Georgiana, is that the Franks as in Robert Frank, our stable hand?"
"Yes, the very one."
"And who are the Wilcoxes?"
Jon Wilcox is one of our under gardeners. He is recently married and lives in his parents’ home, although it is fairly small. He is hoping some day to have a home of his own.
As she told him this, she pulled out her journal and began writing. "What are you writing?" Darcy asked his sister.
She looked up at him and smiled, "Just some thoughts that I do not want to forget from today's sermon."
"What are they?"
"William, this is my journal, and my thoughts. Presently I do not wish to share them with you."
He folded his arms in frustration and dropped his head back against the seat. He turned his eyes, however, and looked in admiration at this young girl who was turning into a charming lady. Yet growing within him was an anxiety about this afternoon and what it would require of him.
When they arrived at Pemberley, they ate a simple meal that had been prepared by the nominal staff that worked on Sundays. When the meal was completed, Georgiana encouraged her brother to get a little rest before they set out again. Darcy was eager for some solitude and retreated to his study. As he stretched out into his overstuffed chair and put his feet on the ottoman, he wondered what he was getting into with these visits Georgiana had arranged.
His mind went back to a week ago, when he was sitting in this very chair -- as he was right now -- and Miss Elizabeth Bennet walked in. His heart pounded as he recalled that morning. He put his hands in his pockets, searching for the handkerchief. It was not there. He must have left it back in his room. But he did not need it to smell the gardenia fragrance. He looked at the end table and saw the fresh cut flowers that had been put there - gardenias. How fragrant they were!
Suddenly a memory from the past flashed before him. It was of his mother taking a young Fitzwilliam Darcy to visit some of their less fortunate neighbours and she often brought them fresh cut flowers. He looked at the gardenias. His eyes widened as he remembered a scent from the past. Could gardenia have been the fragrance she wore? He shook his head as if trying to recall. Was it the same fragrance, or had he been so captivated this past week by the scent that he now only thought it was one and the same?
He thought back to after his mother died and how he often went into his parent's room when his father was away and smelled her clothes. He felt very safe and secure when he could smell his mother, almost as though she was r
ight there with him. But then one day all her clothes were gone. He went into their room, opened the closet, and it was empty! He remembered the pain that gripped him, almost more than when she actually died.
After that, he would try to recall that scent, looking for anything with it on it. He could never admit this to his father, who tried to be so strong. Darcy felt his father would believe it to be a failing on his part. After a while, as memories of his mother sadly began to fade, so did the memory of that scent.
He brought his hand to his forehead, pushing back the unruly locks that had cascaded down. Is that what brought him back from his state of unconsciousness, the scent that reminded him of his mother? When he had begun awaken, he was not aware that Elizabeth was there. Even when he saw her, he did not really recognize her. That was the last thought on his mind when he fell asleep.
It was but a short time later that he awoke and found Georgiana at his side.
"I did not wish to awaken you. It is time for us to leave. Do you think you can manage the outing?" She noticed the faraway look in his eyes, and thought he may have done too much already this morning and needed more rest. "If you not, I can certainly go with Miss Annesley."
"No, I am quite rested now. But I need first to go to my room."
He slowly took the stairs to his room and went to the nightstand next to his bed, opening the drawer. He lifted a book that was neatly placed in the drawer, and lifted Elizabeth's handkerchief from underneath it. He brought it to his face and inhaled. The scent was fading again, so he opened his armoire and reached to the back behind a stack of folded shirts, pulling out the bottle of toilet water. He shook a few drops onto the handkerchief and slipped it into his pocket.
As they pulled away from Pemberley in the carriage, Darcy looked at Georgiana. "Did you know that your mother and I used to go on visits such as this?"
"No," replied a surprised Georgiana.
"She called them our caring calls. I was fairly young at the time; I would often find an excuse to go outside and play while she stayed in and visited. She stopped doing it just before you were born, and I do not think she ever was able to continue doing it, having a young child to take care of, and then her illness…" Darcy took a deep breath and sighed. He looked over at Georgiana and she had a dazed look on her face. He noticed tears welled in her eyes, and he pulled her close and gave her a hug.
"I never knew that about her. Tell me more about my mother."
"She was very kind and giving. As the reverend said today, she gave of herself. She was there for people." Darcy stroked his sister's hair as she sat spellbound by his words. "She was beautiful; she loved you and our father very much. When she died, I believe a part of Father died. He was never quite the same."
"Oh to have that kind of love in a marriage," Georgiana sighed softly.
"Hmmm. Yes." Darcy felt his heart stir, leaving him pensive for a moment. Finally he continued, "I know you were quite young when she died, but you were very special to her. I often regretted that you have not had her in your life, especially now as you are grown into such a lady. I know that she would be someone who would be able to give you such wisdom and guidance, unlike I ever could."
"William, you have been a wonderful brother. I could not ask for a better one."
"You are too kind."
Georgiana smiled.
The carriage approached Lambton and pulled down a narrow lane. Darcy could tell that the road was in need of repair as the carriage rocked from side to side as it traversed the myriad of ruts. He looked out the window at the row of houses that were situated very close together, with barely a small yard in the front.
The carriage pulled up in front of a small house with window boxes in the front that had been painted blue. There were flower bushes in them but no flowers were in bloom. As they removed themselves from the carriage, Darcy was assaulted by a loose dog. He abruptly shooed the dog away and wiped down his clothes. Georgiana laughed.
"This is where the Wilcox family lives. Jon and his wife live here along with his parents and a younger brother and sister. His father is a local blacksmith."
"And you say he is one of our under gardeners?"
"That is correct. He usually works the outskirts of the grounds."
They exited the carriage and walked up to a very small house. They knocked on the door and were ushered in by a young teenage boy. He called for his mother who quickly came to welcome them. She ushered them into the sitting room and sent the young boy off to find his brother, Jon.
As Darcy looked around, he felt confoundedly stifled by the closeness of the walls. He noticed a pungent odour that began to assail his nostrils. As they waited for Jon, Mr. Wilcox joined his wife, and a daughter came in. Jon and his wife entered last. There was barely room in the sitting room for all eight of them, and Darcy wondered why they did not go into a larger room, there were so many of them in this confined space. He could hear his sister saying something, but Darcy was not able to concentrate.
He recalled as a child coming to these small houses and not being able to remain inside for very long for the same reason. As a child he needed to get outside into the open air, and right now that was all he could think of. Suddenly he was aware that he was being addressed, and struggled to focus on what Mr. Wilcox was saying.
In a desperate measure to keep his composure, he slipped his hand into his pocket. He knew he could not pull out the handkerchief with Elizabeth's embroidered initials and flowers on it, so he rubbed his fingers around the handkerchief, and then released it, pulling out his hand. He brought it to his face and gently rubbed his jaw, letting the gardenia scent on his fingers reach his nostrils. As he breathed in the scent, he immediately felt calm and less anxious. He looked at Mr. Wilcox who just finished what he was saying.
"… and hope he is a good worker."
"Uh, yes, he is a very good worker." But Darcy did not recall ever having seen his son.
He looked over at Georgiana who was so at ease with these people. She readily showed an interest in their lives. Darcy could only think about getting back outside. He knew his first visit was going to be considered a failure. He reasoned, however, that certain people had a gift for this kind of thing; Georgiana did, and he did not.
When they left, he thanked them for their hospitality and wished them God's blessings.
From there they walked across the road to the Franks. At least Darcy knew Robert Frank, as his trusted head stable hand. He had worked at Pemberley for about six years, and the two shared occasional conversation. The house looked a little larger than the Wilcoxes, so he hoped that he would not have the same reaction there.
They approached the door and knocked. A petite middle aged woman came to the door and greeted them. Georgiana introduced Mrs. Ellen Frank to her brother. She welcomed them in, apologizing for the simple accommodations and untidiness that the children had caused. She ushered them into the sitting area and politely offered Darcy and Georgiana a seat. Darcy was relieved that the rooms were larger and did not close in around him as the others had.
"My husband is outside in the back. If you will excuse me, I shall call him."
Darcy heard some children playing loudly out back, but noticed a small child sitting on the floor watching them timidly. She looked to be about four. Darcy thought he would venture over and try to talk with the child. He stood up from the chair and walked over, crouching down as he came to her. She quickly looked back down at the blocks with which she was playing.
"What have you got there, young lady?"
Just then Mrs. Frank walked back in. She noticed that Darcy was attempting to talk to their youngest daughter who was not paying him any heed. "I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but our daughter, Eleanor, is deaf. She cannot hear you."
Darcy’s jaw dropped, not knowing what to say. He looked at Georgiana and then back at Mrs. Frank. "I am so sorry, Mrs. Frank, I did not realize."
"That is understandable, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Frank will be right in."
Mr. Frank ente
red presently and the two greeted each other warmly. Darcy was still reeling from his earlier blunder. Mrs. Frank carried in a tray of sweet breads and offered them to the pair. Georgiana thanked her and chose one for herself. Darcy declined, as his stomach was now churning. He did not think he would be able to eat a thing. He did, however, accept some tea, which helped soothe his agitated nerves.
The conversation in the household was confined mostly to Georgiana with Mrs. Frank, and Darcy with Mr. Frank. He talked to him about the things he wanted to do in the stables to improve things and Darcy agreed to think on it. His mind, however, kept going back to little Eleanor. He looked over at her and saw how content she was to play with her blocks. Did she know she was different? How did they communicate with her? And most of all, why did he not know about her?
When they finally left the house, Darcy was physically and emotionally drained. He climbed into the carriage after helping Georgiana in and put his head back against the seat. Georgiana felt it would not be wise to say anything at present. She was tempted to pull out her journal and begin writing, but she refrained. She knew how he must be feeling. He had been so uncomfortable, yet he had so wanted to prove himself to her. She was sure that he felt a failure.
When he finally lifted his head and met Georgiana's gaze, he asked her, "Why did I not know about the Frank's deaf daughter?" He had a pained look in his eyes.
She looked down. "I do not know. It is possible that at one time Mr. Frank informed you about her and you promptly forgot because it was not pertinent to you, or he may have assumed you would not be interested and so never bothered to tell you."
He looked at her with much anguish. "I suppose I have discovered today of what my real character is made. My pride and arrogance does raise its dragon head when I am in the company of those I feel are inferior to me."
She looked at him and smiled, shaking her head. "I am not convinced it is from pride and arrogance. At least not all of it."
He looked at her questioningly.
"I have seen you in situations with people from our own society." She paused to gather her words. "I have seen your disdain among those who exhibit their prosperity and position for the benefit of making themselves look good to others. I believe that is improper pride. I have never seen you put those things in the forefront to gain an unfair advantage over someone, or to even impress them."