The Darcys of Pemberley

by Shannon Winslow

  “It seems that I have had quite the easiest time of it. Everybody else apparently suffered a great deal of worry and distress on my account, and all the while I was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of my own peril.” She smiled feebly. “Even now, I am kept in comfortable ignorance of just exactly what has happened.”

  “It amazes me that you are able to joke about your present circumstances, Mrs. Darcy. But then, that is one of the things I have always admired about you – your ability to find humor in nearly every situation. I believe we would all be better off if we could take ourselves, and even our troubles, less seriously. Well, I really must be off to church now, or they will have to start without me. I shall keep you in my prayers and come back to see you again in a day or two.”

  “Thank you again, sir, for all you have done,” said Elizabeth, warmly.

  Mr. Thornton bowed and said good-bye.

  One or two at a time, other visitors succeeded him: Georgiana, Charlotte, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Jane and Mr. Bingley in turn, all under Mr. Darcy’s watchful eye. Their stays were kept short as Mr. Poole had instructed, but Elizabeth’s friends would not be denied the felicity of witnessing her improvement for themselves.

  With practice, Elizabeth soon learnt the art of lying perfectly still, of speaking without too much exertion or volume, of turning her eyes toward someone without turning her head, all in an effort to avoid any exacerbation of her ever-present headache. As long as her visitors sat, or preferably stood, close by, Elizabeth found that she could carry on a fairly comfortable conversation in hushed tones.

  When the Bingleys were with her, Elizabeth asked, “Did not Kitty come with you from Heatheridge? I thought she would have, but no one has mentioned her being here.”

  Jane exchanged a look with her husband before answering carefully. “She did come with us, Lizzy. But you know that Kitty is not well-suited to the sickroom. She is with Lydia at the cottage now. Perhaps they will both visit you tomorrow.”

  Whilst the Bingleys were upstairs with Elizabeth, Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam found themselves alone together in the drawing room for a time. The gentleman thought this circumstance agreeable enough, but the lady’s emotions were running too close to the surface to long maintain her composure under such a strain. Offering an imaginary excuse to leave the room, she was starting to rise when the colonel detained her.

  “Wait, Georgiana. Now that your sister is well on the road to recovery, perhaps you would not mind taking a moment to clear up a point of confusion for me.”

  “Yes, of course, if I can.”

  “Then may I ask what caused the abrupt change in your travel plans? I admit I was more than a little surprised when I learnt that you and Mrs. Collins had set off from London on you own, without awaiting my return. I can only suppose you must have had some pressing reason for doing so.”

  “I daresay you want a logical explanation, Colonel, but I have none to offer you, nothing that would hold up under scrutiny at least. Call it caprice if you like,” she said lightly, “but I was suddenly desperate to be back at Pemberley.”

  “I am truly grateful that you arrived in safety. All the same, you should have waited. It was not prudent for you to travel unescorted.”

  Spoken like a true elder brother, she thought with vexation. Her annoyance showed in her tone. “Thank you for your kind solicitude, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I beg you not to trouble yourself. After all, the part of my overprotective elder brother is already being played perfectly adequately by my real elder brother!” She abruptly stood to go.

  He stood likewise. “Forgive me, Georgiana. Have I done something to offend you?” asked a mystified Fitzwilliam. “I was only concerned for your well-being.”

  She stopped and turned on him. “If you were so concerned for my safety, I am surprised that you could in good conscience go off and leave us in London on the invented pretense of some urgent affair.”

  “It was no invention. I had important business here in Derbyshire.”

  “What business could have been so urgent or so secretive that we could not all have come together?”

  Georgiana’s crossness and unfounded accusations had by this point begun to overcome the colonel’s easy temper. Even his unfailing goodwill toward her could not prevent him from responding in kind.

  “I regret that I cannot give you a satisfactory answer at present, Miss Darcy. However, since you feel entitled to excuse your own actions on the grounds of caprice, perhaps you will be so good as to allow me the same privilege.”

  At a loss for any worthy rejoinder, Georgiana quit the room, effectively ending the discussion with very little satisfaction on either side. Later, upon reflection, she could not condone her harsh words to the colonel. He had always shown her the utmost kindness, never more so than in the last few months. Was it his fault that she now found his brotherly manner – which had always been acceptable in the past – no longer palatable?

  “No,” she sighed. “I have no right to blame him for what he cannot help.”

  One more uncomfortable encounter awaited Georgiana that day. Early in the afternoon Mr. Sanditon and his sister-in-law arrived, having come directly from church where they had lately learnt of Mrs. Darcy’s accident from Mr. Thornton. When Georgiana received them, Mr. Sanditon’s composure faltered. Of course he knew she might be there, but he had been so preoccupied with Elizabeth’s plight that he had failed to adequately prepare himself for seeing Miss Darcy again.

  The lady did not bear the unexpected sight of the gentleman with much more tranquility than he did her. In her agitation, she first thought he had come to demand her answer, and then she quickly realized that the Sanditons were there to ask after Elizabeth instead. Georgiana was assuring them that the patient was out of danger when Mr. Darcy came in and took over the office.

  “Yes, I am happy to report that Elizabeth continues to improve, hour by hour.”

  “Thank heaven,” said Mr. Sanditon. “I am profoundly relieved to hear it.”

  Ruth asked, “Might I be allowed to see her?”

  “Of course,” said Darcy. “Let me take you up.”

  This left Georgiana alone with Mr. Sanditon. An awkward silence ensued, the unanswered question between them making its presence felt in the room like an unwelcome third person. Though neither of them had set out to have their long-postponed discussion on that particular day, the opportunity was obviously at hand.

  Mr. Sanditon presently stood as if he had decided on a definite course of action. “Would you take a turn in the garden with me, Miss Darcy?” he asked.

  “As you wish,” Georgiana agreed. “We can talk more freely there.”

  Conversation did not come any easier for the change to less formal surroundings. Several minutes passed with only birdsong to interrupt the stillness between them.

  Mr. Sanditon began at last. “I am delighted that your sister-in-law is so much better, Miss Darcy. We were quite shocked to hear of her accident, and we wanted to offer our best wishes as soon as possible.”

  “That was very kind of you, Mr. Sanditon.” Georgiana, who could feel her suitor’s gaze resting upon her, kept her own eyes aimed squarely at the pathway in front of her.

  “I am also pleased to find that you and Mrs. Collins have returned safely from London. Did you enjoy your stay there as much as you anticipated?”

  “Yes, thank you. The society was very lively, yet I am glad to be home again. I have missed Pemberley and all my friends hereabout. How are Abigail and Amelia? I often think of them, and I wonder if they will remember me. I have been away so long.”

  “They are well, thank you, and I am certain they could not forget you so soon.” After another pause, he continued. “As gratified as I am to know that you think fondly of my daughters, Miss Darcy, I cannot help wondering if you had any warm reflections about their father whilst you were away.”

  Georgiana turned to him with an anguished, apologetic look. “Mr. Sanditon, I …”

  “No, no; it i
s quite all right, Miss Darcy. No words are necessary. I can read my answer in your countenance. It is what I have been expecting all along, I think.”

  They walked on in silence whilst Georgiana organized what she should to say to him. He was a gentleman of the highest order, and he deserved an explanation. “Sir, please forgive me for keeping you in suspense so long. I did not take the honor of your proposal lightly, and I wished to give it every possible consideration. Although I have the deepest respect and warm regard for you, sir…”

  “Say no more, please. I understand perfectly.”

  Chapter 40

  Debriefing

  Mr. Sanditon bore his disappointment with dignity and philosophy. Having correctly anticipated Georgiana’s answer, he suffered no shock when his expectations were unhappily confirmed. Neither was Mr. Darcy surprised to find his friend pensive and subdued thereafter. When he had left Mr. Sanditon and his sister alone together, he thought it quite likely the matter would soon be settled. The soul of discretion, he asked no questions and made no illusions to what might have passed between the two.

  When the Sanditons departed, they took Mrs. Collins along with them as the most convenient means of returning her to Reddclift cottage. She had at first resisted the suggestion, insisting she would stay at Pemberley as long as she was needed. In the end, however, she had been persuaded by Elizabeth herself, who refused to impose upon her friend’s kindness any longer. A she pointed out, Charlotte had already been away from her snug little home for nearly three months, much of that time in the service of the Darcys.

  The remainder of the day passed uneventfully. Elizabeth had little trouble complying with Mr. Poole’s prescription for plenty of sleep. She could barely stay awake above half an hour in any case, and it was arduous work keeping her mind clear of the fog that perpetually hung about. A family member attended her at all times, and Darcy, who still could not be comfortable with his wife long out of his sight, only left the room for brief periods.

  Elizabeth felt markedly improved by the next morning. Although still drowsy, her mind was less clouded, and the steady pounding in her head had somewhat diminished. She was even able to sit up in bed with the help of her husband and the support of several pillows. The draperies were kept partially drawn since bright light had proved just as painful to Elizabeth as did loud noise and abrupt movement.

  Georgiana sat with Elizabeth that afternoon whilst Mr. Darcy attended to some pressing business. She had been longing for a private audience with her sister-in-law to further the discussion in person that they had begun a week before through the post. “I am glad to finally have you to myself,” said she. “How much has happened since we last had a real talk!”

  “A great many things indeed.” Elizabeth still practiced her newly-learnt art of speaking softly and moving as little as possible.

  “Lizzy,” continued Georgiana, dropping her eyes. “One matter has been weighing very heavily upon me. Ever since I received your letter in London, I have been miserable over the trouble I caused you. Now tell me, has everything been set right betwixt you and my brother?” she asked, on the verge of tears.

  “Yes, yes,” Elizabeth whispered. “Oh, my dear, you need have no more anxiety on that head, and I am sorry that you have been left so long to worry about it. The details are unimportant and are really best forgot as soon as possible. Suffice to say that the largest share of the problem turned out to be a nasty misunderstanding. Once that was laid bare, the rest of the difficulty was soon cleared away.”

  “Thank heaven! I am so relieved to hear it. Was my letter of any use to you, then?”

  “It helped us a great deal, Georgiana. Thank you. I appreciate what it must have cost your modesty to reveal so much.”

  “Does my brother know all, then?”

  “He does, but you needn’t be uneasy. He is not angry, and he has promised to be very discreet. You may open the subject with him if you choose; otherwise I doubt he will ever mention it.”

  Georgiana rose and went to the window, gazing through the gap in the curtains. “I have made such a wretched fool of myself, Lizzy. Romantic folly can perhaps be forgiven at fifteen, but three additional years should yield at least a little more sense.”

  “My dear girl, you must not be so severe upon yourself. Come here.” Elizabeth stretched out her hand to Georgiana, who obediently took it. “Now listen to me. No one could consider you foolish for falling in love with such a fine man as Colonel Fitzwilliam. And, in determining not to marry anyone else under those circumstances, you have demonstrated good judgment.”

  “The way you put it makes my behavior sound perfectly rational. I doubt that I deserve such a charitable interpretation, Elizabeth, but I thank you nonetheless.” She frowned as she went on. “I spoke to Mr. Sanditon when he was here yesterday and gave him my regrets.”

  “Poor soul. How did he take the news?”

  “He was such a gentleman about it that it made me even sorrier for disappointing him.”

  “There was no help for it, though. It had to be done, and I am sure you were as kind as possible.”

  ~*~

  Next day, Elizabeth left her bed for the first time. She took her initial tentative steps across the room on the arm of her husband, slowly moving to a settee by the window for a change of attitude and scenery. The gloomy character of the sky ensured that the light would not be too bright for her there. Even so, she paid for the extra exertion with a temporary resurgence of her headache. She sat very still with her eyes closed for some minutes until it passed, gripping her husband’s hand and listening to the lilting notes and phrases that filtered upstairs from Georgiana’s efforts at the pianoforte.

  Whilst she continued to improve physically, Elizabeth’s mind grew more and more disturbed by images and flashes from her missing memory. The fragments were too few and disconnected to make any sense, but they were enough to convince her that she had been through some larger trauma than she had previously supposed. Increasingly discontent with her state of ignorance, she decided it was high time Darcy enlightened her.

  “My love,” she began when she was comfortable again, “since I am safely on my way to recovery now, I believe the moment has come for you to acquaint me with the facts of what happened that day.”

  Darcy grimaced at her request. “It will not be pleasant, Lizzy. Are you sure you are strong enough to bear it?”

  “I believe so, and you must tell me regardless. I have started remembering frightening bits and pieces. I would be easier knowing, rather than imagining, the rest.”

  “I am not so certain about that,” Darcy muttered, considered that what she imagined could hardly be much worse than what had actually occurred. Still, he knew Elizabeth was right; she had to be told, and soon. He had nearly made up his mind to it when they heard the sound of a carriage out in front of the house.

  “Is someone here?” she asked

  “No, my dear. It is the Bingleys’ carriage. They have an errand to accomplish today, which I will explain. As you wish then,” said Darcy, sitting down beside her. “I will relate to you as much as I know. Yet where shall I begin? What is the last thing you remember?”

  “I clearly remember when Lydia came to see me on Thursday, and everything we talked about. Then Friday, we were waiting for Georgiana’s carriage, but it did not come when expected. Is that correct? After that, everything is a blank page, I am sorry to say.”

  “You are quite right, Lizzy. Georgiana did not arrive on Friday, and that night you suffered a repeat performance of the dream that so distressed you on our way home from London.”

  Darcy went on to relate to her the events of Saturday – Fitzwilliam’s arrival, the search party’s recovery of Charlotte and Georgiana, and their return to Pemberley to discover Elizabeth missing. At this point, Darcy showed her the note she herself had written to him, and told what Henderson knew of her conversation and departure with Mr. Wickham.

  “Wickham lured you away under the false pretense of Lydia bei
ng injured falling down stairs. We are sure of that much,” said Darcy.

  “So, was none of it true? Was she never injured?”

  “It was all a lie. Lydia is well. I saw her myself when I went in search of you.”

  “I am glad for that, but what on earth was Wickham about?”

  “At present, there is no way of saying for certain what his intentions were. I can only conjecture that, out of his discontent and implacable resentment against me, he had been watching for an opportunity to take some kind of advantage. When he saw our party leave that morning, he apparently decided to make his move.”

  “Nothing Wickham does should surprise me, I suppose, but I still can scarcely believe he would stoop to kidnapping!”

  Darcy then described the search, the discovery of the accident scene, and finding her there in such desperate condition.

  Elizabeth shivered, the hair rising on her arms. “So my nightmare was prophetic after all, only it was my own fate it foretold, not Georgiana’s. Imagine that. Still, you have not said what has become of Wickham. Did he run off after the accident or was he apprehended?”

  “Neither one,” Darcy said grimly. “He was thrown from the gig, just as you were, Elizabeth. But he landed very awkwardly, it seems. Mr. Poole examined the body and said his neck was broken.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “Wickham is dead?”

  “Yes, my dear, and the Bingleys have just taken Lydia to Kympton to see him buried.”

  “Mercy! Oh, poor Lydia!”

  Elizabeth anguished over all that had happened and all that might have been. She struggled to comprehend the perverse folly that would drive a man to propagate such misery. One thing she knew; the pieces fit. The gradually coalescing fragments of her memory confirmed the story and added dreadful details necessarily absent from her husband’s account. All at once, the crushing weight of the thing overpowered her. Elizabeth fell into her husband’s arms, hid her face against his shoulder, and cried with abandon, mourning for herself, for Lydia, and even for Wickham.