Suspense & Sensibility m&mdm-2

by Carrie Bebris

  "No. I–I want you to know." he said. "I want to assure you whatever indignities you or anybody else suffered, they were not my doing."

  "We understand you are not to blame."

  "Oh — I accept the blame as my own. It was I who brought the glass here, I who brought the portrait. Had I not wanted to show off with the former and insult my mother with the latter, none of this would have happened."

  "Until some other unsuspecting person stumbled upon the objects in the future." Professor Randolph said "Cursed artifacts seldom allow themselves to remain in obscurity forever. Had you not found the glass, your son, or his son, might have become the mirror's next victim. Let it bring you some measure of peace to know that you have spared your progeny the misery you endured."

  "All the same. I wish I had invited you to examine my attic discoveries, as I had promised," he said. "I almost did solicit your assessment of the glass, but I feared you would think me mad. Heavens, I thought I was mad — hearing a voice coming from the glass, seeing a face that was mine and not mine. Sir Francis haunted me awake in the mirror and asleep in my dreams. Then people started seeing me in places I had not been, and I wondered if he'd found a way to roam about while I slept. Even when I was in Devonshire, if I so much as dozed, his spirit wandered London free."

  "And eventually he grew dissatisfied with that'" Elizabeth asked gently.

  "After more than thirty years of imprisonment, he was like a child on holiday. He sought pleasure, but his lack of substance limited his enjoyments. He could not hold cards, consume food or drink, or satisfy his.. more carnal interests." A hint of red crept into his cheek, and his teacup became a sudden subject of rapt attention.

  The arrival of Harry's supper broke the awkwardness, different servants, probably having won at straws the privilege of ogling Mr Dashwood up close, delivered the repast. When they had served the food and retreated, Harry continued.

  "After the — after Sir Francis and I exchanged places, he gave free rein to his hedonistic impulses. You cannot imagine my torment! To have not only lost my freedom, but to watch helplessly as my relationships, reputation, fortune, and physical person suffered irreparable damage!"

  "You know the extent of his transgressions?" Darcy asked.

  "I probably do not." he said. "But I know a good many of them. He would gloat to me about his exploits — found my horror and dismay exceedingly amusing And what went on in my own bedchamber, where he relished the presence of a captive audience, defies description. I would turn away, cover my ears, and retreat to the mirror's farthest recesses."

  "Could none of his" — Darcy cleared his throat—"visitors see you in the glass?" Darcy asked.

  "Until Mrs. Darcy saw me yesierday, none but Sir Francis ever detected me. Believe me, I tried to draw attention to myself! Every servant, every woman who entered inspired shouts and frantic waving, but for naught. Once I thought my aunt Lucy had noticed me. She gazed into the mirror a terribly long time. but it turned out she was only admiring herself. The incident unnerved Sir Francis enough, however, that he shipped the mirror back to Norland the next day."

  Elizabeth, who had been refilling Harry's teacup, paused to regard him closely. "Mrs. Robert Ferrars was in your — Sir Francis's — bedchamber?"

  "Mrs. Roben Ferrars was Sir Francis's mistress."

  "Oh, my!" Elizabeth required a moment to absorb that intelligence. "I suppose that explains how she was always in possesion of the latest news about you — I mean, him. Sir Francis must have taken her into his confidence, for surely Mrs. Ferrars would not have entered into an affair with her own nephew"

  "Unfortunately, she was quite of the belief that it was I who seduced her. I shall never be able to hear my name on her lips without the sound giving rise to memories I would much rather forget."

  "As someone who knows you well, she did not find Sir Francis's actions so contrary to your nature as to make her question them?" Darcy asked.

  "My aunt is not possessed of the strongest perception," Harry said. "Indeed, she was flattered by his advances "

  "It is little wonder Miss Ferrars's engagement so enraged her."

  "My cousin Regina is engaged?'' Harry asked. "To whom?

  Elizabeth hesitated. "To you, I fear."

  Mr. Dashwood looked a little ill. "I knew I had lost Miss Bennett when I saw the three of you arrive at the townhouse as the mirror was being prepared for transport to Norland. I caught a glimpse of Kitty — what a blessed gift that was! But I feared for her. When I heard you speak of the broken engagement as you left, I rejoiced that she had escaped Sir Francis's taint."

  He poked at his food, apparently having lost his appetite. "To now find myself engaged to my cousin — well, it is most surprising news. I am not certain what attraction she held for Sir Francis."

  Elizabeth exchanged glances with Darcy. If Harry had been at Norland since Kitty ended the engagement, he had been absent when Sir Francis gambled away his estate and Fanny settled his remaining inheritance on her niece.

  "Mr. Dashwood, I'm afraid we must advise you of additional unpleasant occurrences," Darcy said.

  Harry bore with dignity the news that Sir Francis had left him penniless. He became very quiet, and the others allowed him the privacy of his own thoughts. At last he said, "I am glad he left this world, for otherwise I might have killed him myself."

  "Someone did," Elizabeth said. "The servants found him trapped in the larder this morning."

  "Indeed? I had wondered at his odd position when you brought him upstairs. Will there be an investigation?"

  "Unfortunately, there is nothing to investigate,"' said Da;

  "With you here, there is no corpse, and hence, no murder. But I would guard my back, however, were I you. for Sir Francis managed to offend a great many people in your name."

  "After what you all endured to restore my life, I do not intend to lose it easily. Mere words can never express the measure of my gratitude. When I consider what you almost sacrificed—."

  "Almost," Elizabeth emphasized. "All turned out well in the end." She looked to Professor Randolph. "Though, Professor. I do not understand what happened in the final moments. A soul for a soul — was that not the mirror's price? Obviously, Mr. Dashwood's spirit was released. In exchange. I saw the glass try to steal Darcy s, and I felt it try to snatch my own. What caused it to destroy itself instead?"

  The archaeologist pondered her question a moment. "Maybe the mirror tried to take too much at once "

  She shook her head. "No — Darcy was out of its range in the end. I was alone before it"

  Professor Randolph regarded her, his expression inscrutable. Finally. he said, "I have no other explanation to offer at present. Perhaps in time you'll find the answer within yourself."

  They were interrupted by a voice rising from below, where someone sought admittance. Mr Dashwood rose and opened the drawing room door to better hear the visitor. Her voice was familiar to them all.

  "What dreadful news aboul my nephew! I came as soon as I heard…

  Mr. Dashwood winced "I do not think I can cope with my aunt Lucy just yet."

  After what she had learned today, Elizabeth did not know whether she would ever again be able to greet Mrs. Robert Ferrars with a placid countenance. She was curious, however, as to the nature of the news to which Lucy alluded. To Elizabeth's knowledge, word of Mr. Dashwood's supposed demise had not traveled outside the house.

  "Will you allow me?" she asked.

  "By all means."

  Elizabeth left to receive the visitor. As she headed down the stairs, Lucy's voice continued to resound in the hall.

  "As his kin, I wonder that you did not send me word immediately." Lucy admonished the housekeeper. "I will, of course handle all the arrangements, in consultation with his mother."

  She tried to push her way past the servant.

  "Good evening, Mrs. Ferrars." Elizabeth greeted her. The housekeeper looked as if she had every intention of staying, but Elizabeth dismissed her. "What ar
rangements would those be?"

  "Mrs Darcy." Lucy opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. It was the first occasion Elizabeth could recall of her being at a loss for words. "I did not expect to find you here." she said finally.

  "I did not expect to be here myself today, but necessity required it."

  Lucy nodded sympathetically. "It was good of you to come. Those senseless servants obviously didn't know who to summon. But I'm here now. Where is the — where is poor Harry?"

  Mr Dashwood's aunt had hardly referred to him as "poor Harry" the last time Elizabeth had seen her.

  "In the drawing room." °

  "The drawing room?" She appeared puzzled "Well. I suppose that's as good a place as any. Is he — is he quite dreadful to look at?"

  Actually, Elizabeth reflected. Harry's appearance had continued to improve dramatically since he'd regained consciousness. At present, he didn't look a day over fifty.

  But to Lucy she said. "How did he look when you last saw him?"

  An expression of guilt flashed across her face. It lasted the merest fraction of a second, but it was long enough "Oh, you know.. " Lucy shrugged

  Yes, she did.

  Thirty-Two

  "Tell her of my misery and my penitence — tell her that my heart was never inconstant to her, and if you will, that at this moment she is dearer to me than ever."

  — Mr Willoughby to Elinor,

  Sense and Sensibility, Chapter 44

  "I came to bid you farewell" Mr. Dashwood said as he entered Darcy's library.

  Darcy greeted Harry, though not the cause of his call, with genuine pleasure. In the three weeks since Mr. Dashwood had been restored to himself, Darcy had come to hold him in esteem surpassing that of their earlier acquaintance. His ordeal in the mirror had purged him of those flaws of character Darcy had obviously defined as a want of seriousness, leaving him instead a sober young man mature beyond his years. In fact, both Elizabeth and Darcy worried that he had grown a little too serious and hoped that eventually the passage of time would lighten his spirits.

  He invited Mr. Dashwood to be seated. "You look very well today."

  "I am, thank you." In physical appearance, Mr. Dashwood had remarkably improved. The effects of premature aging that Sir Francis's tenancy had wrought upon his person had receded beyond anyone's expectation. He had appeared gradually younger each day for a fortnight, until settling into the form of a man perhaps in his mid-thirties. Professor Randolph theorized that when his soul reentered his body, it had yet borne the image of child, and that this fortunate circumstance had somehow countered the years Sir Francis had added. He still looked considerably older than he ought, and probably always would, but his appearance was superior to what could have been.

  "I understand you leave on the morrow?" Mr Dashwood asked.

  "Yes." The Darcys had extended their London stay to see Harry through his initial recovery, but now they headed back to Pemberley. They would stop en route at Longbourn to return Kitty. "But I expect it is not I to whom you particularly wish to say good-bye."

  "I hoped to see Mrs Darcy, too, of course."

  "And no one else?"

  Mr. Dashwood had enquired after Kitty at every opportunity but the two had not yet met in person. Though free of his obligation to Regina — breaking the engagement between the cousins had seemed best for all involved — the awkwardness of seeing Kitty again, after the hurt Sir Francis had inflicted upon her, had deterred him from calling at the Darcys' townhouse.

  "She is out with Mrs. Darcy and my sister at the moment but should return soon," Darcy said.

  "I do not know what to say to her — how to begin to apologize, or even explain"

  "Mrs. Darcy told her you have been unwell but are on the mend. What you reveal beyond that is your own choice."

  "Do you think she could ever possibly believe the truth?"

  "I suspect she still wants very much to believe in you."

  Mr. Dashwood avoided Darcy's gaze. "I am unworthy of that faith."

  "Do you still care for her?"

  His ardent expression said that he did, but it quickly transformcd to one of misery. "I have nothing to offer her. My fortune is gone, my friends alienated, my reputation blackened beyond redemption. My very body is so changed I don't yet feel entirely comfortable in my own skin." He held up his hand before him. "I cannot tender her a hand I don't even recognize as my own and a name everyone recognizes as infamous!" He slumped against the chair back and shook his head. "I have nothing to recommend me."

  "Nothing but yourself"

  "That is not enough, and you know it even better than I"

  Unfortunately, Darcy did know it. Even if Miss Bennet could overlook the alteration of Harry's form, and her family the damage Sir Francis had done to Mr. Dashwood's reputation, no one could ignore the loss of his fortune. Love alone could not sustain the couple, nor could the interest on Kitty's one thousand pounds.

  Mr. Dashwood rose. "I think honor requires me to distance myself from Miss Bennet, so that her heart is free to bestow itself on a more deserving gentleman. I shall leave now. before she returns."

  "Where do you go?" Darcy asked. "I speak not merely of the present moment, but of your future. Without your inheritance, how do you plan to maintain yourself?"

  "During my captivity, I spent a great deal of time comtemplating my life and its value — not just to myself, but to others, and concluded that I had been a rather selfish creature, though I hoped I had started to mend that deficiency under the influence of Miss Bennett's regard. I resolved that, should I ever be so blessed as to escape my prison, I would endeavor to prove a more useful human being. I have been granted salvation; I believe it now my duty to help others reach it."

  "You intend to enter the church?"

  "As soon as I can take orders I think quitting town for a quiet life as a country vicar, such as my uncle Edward Ferrars enjoys, is the very thing for me. By some miracle, he and my aunt Elinor are still speaking to me. and I plan to solicit his assistance in getting ordained and finding a modest living-provided the reputation Sir Francis left me with does not prejudice one and all against my serving as a clergyman. I hope, perhaps, in some place far removed from London, there may exist a potential patron who has not heard the tales."

  A life devoted to the church, if Harry served well, could go a long way toward restoring his respectability. Darcy studied Mr Dashwood, not in the light of the summer sun streaming through the window, but in the light of the trial he had just endured. The young buck Darcy had first met at the Middletons' soiree would never have made a good minister, the gentleman who entertained them at Norland might have, but lacked any motive for

  entering the profession. This man before him, however — this chastened, reborn Mr. Dashwood, baptized in the mirror's fire — he would make a very good clergyman, indeed.

  "I know of a living in Derbyshire that will become vacant soon. In Kympton, a pleasant little village."

  "Indeed?" Mr. Dashwood's interest was evident. 'Do you think its patron might be prevailed upon to consider me?"

  "The living is mine to grant. And yours if you want it."

  He was silent a moment. "Mr. Darcy, I hardly know what to say. I am humbled by your generosity. You have already done so much for me and are one of the only friends I have remaining. I most gratefully accept, and pledge to devote myself wholeheartedly to the parishioners in my care."

  "Do you not even wish to know the living's value?"

  "It is immaterial, but tell me if you like."

  "About four hundred a year, enough to support in comfort a man of moderate habits—" Darcy paused. "And his wife, if he happened to have one."

  Hope illuminated Mr Dashwood's face, but he quickly fought it back, unwilling to give himself over to it. "Do you think she would have me?" he whispered.

  Below, the from door opened, filling the hall with the sound of ladies returning.

  "That, Mr. Dashwood, is up to her. And to you."

  He
left Harry in the library and went to the balcony. Miss Bennet was in the hall below, with Elizabeth and Georgiana.

  Kitty laughed at something her sister said, and Darcy reflected that, during the period of Mr. Dashwood's recovery, she too, had begun to heal from the injuries Sir Francis had inflicted. He captured her attention.

  "Miss Bennet, there is someone in the library who wants very much to speak with you."

  Curiosity crossed her countenance but did not erase her smile. She came up the stairs. "Who is it?"

  He look her arm and led her into the library, closing the door behind them. "Receive him only if you wish."

  Mr Dashwood gazed out the window, lost in thought, his back to the door. In his altered form, which Kitty had not seen in weeks and which had undergone still more changes since, it took her a moment to recognize him. When she did. she gasped."Mr. Dashwood."

  He turned round. Darcy had never seen a face exhibit such a range of emotions in so short a span. Joy. Regret. Hope. Grief. Longing. Sorrow. Tenderness.

  "Miss Bennet."

  He went toward her. She took an involuntary step back and leaned closer to Darcy. He stopped.

  "You are afraid of me.' The fact clearly wounded him. but he bore it with acceptance.

  "No." She withdrew her arm from Darcy's supportive grasp and walked to Mr. Dashwood. Raising her chin, she looked him in the eye. 'No, Harry." she said quietly. "I am not afraid of you."

  "I cannot blame you if you are, after all that has transpired."

  Darcy retreated toward the door to grant them some measure of privacy, but he would not leave until assured that Kitty was easy in Mr. Dashwood's company.

  She studied Harry a long time. "My sister says you have been ill."

  "I was not myself when we last saw each other, and had not been for weeks."

  "And now? Are you once more the gentleman I knew at Norland?"

  "No," he said. "I fear that, like Norland itself, that man hasa gone forever. But I hope I am a better one."

  Her gaze danced about the room, as if she were afraid to let it rest on him too long. His, however, never left her. He drank in the vision of her. cherishing each expression, each gesture, even those unfavorable to his suit. He had not seen her in over two months, and, depending on the outcome of this meeting, might never see her again.