I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  Lizzy continued her work at the infirmary. February saw her treating a private, who had been flogged some weeks ago, by applying maggots to a wound that had festered.

  Dr Gregory had established a set of clientele for his morning calls that included the widow Bartlett, who seemed to have developed some sort of chronic illness. He usually arrived back from these visits just before Lizzy arrived at ten in the morning. He walked in on a Tuesday morning with a bounce in his step and a frown on his face.

  "Lizzy, you must congratulate me. I am engaged."

  "Engaged? Well, that is wonderful! Accept my heartfelt congratulations!"

  "Thank you, Lizzy. You are too good."

  There was an awkward silence, during which it became obvious that Dr Gregory was searching for words. Lizzy had expected him to enlighten her about his betrothed, so his next pronouncement was slightly puzzling.

  "I cannot thank you enough, Lizzy, for your support in helping me to establish the infirmary. It is my hope to soon realise my dream of opening a small hospital."

  "Really? You secured a patron? That is wonderful!" replied Lizzy.

  "A patroness, actually, Lizzy. My betrothed, the widow Bartlett…"

  The widow Bartlett?

  Lizzy knew from gossip between her mother and Mrs Long that Amanda Bartlett was the relict of a rich Bristol shipping merchant, some twenty years her senior. Orphaned by the smallpox, she had grown up partly in Hertfordshire with her spinster aunt before relocating to live with other relatives in Bath prior to her come-out. She had recently inherited her aunt's property east of Meryton.

  Suddenly the widow's chronic illness took on a new aspect. She was ten years older than Dr Gregory… Lizzy quickly reigned in these unworthy thoughts.

  "Have you located a site for the hospital?" she asked tentatively.

  "Yes, we'll be using the old guild hall. I'm about to sign a lease today."

  Sign the lease today? Lizzy felt slightly hurt that he hadn't confided in her earlier. "Well, then, we'll have to get to work straightaway on the fit out!"

  "Yes, well… I cannot thank you enough, Lizzy, for your support in helping me to establish the infirmary… " reiterated Dr Gregory; "but Amanda believes it is really inappropriate for you to continue here… in the circumstances," he finished lamely.

  Lizzy felt a pit open up inside her stomach. "You don't want me to help any more?"

  Dr Gregory grasped her hand. "It is not a question of what I want Lizzy… As a married man…"

  Elizabeth drew her hand back as she felt tears start to her eyes. All my hard work, learning of medicine, doing the ledgers… for nought.

  Lizzy wanted to say, "I understand", but she couldn't trust her voice. She gave a quick curtsy and hurried to the door. Once she was beyond Meryton's town limits, she ran all the way back to Longbourn.

  She announced Dr Gregory's engagement to her family, but she only wrote to Jane of her forced retirement. The worst part was her mother's solicitude: "Don't worry, Lizzy: you did your best! All that hard work in the infirmary and he marries Amanda Bartlett, that snatch-cradle! The ungrateful wretch! I'm sure he is not such a very good doctor after all!"

  The mood at Longbourn was decidedly depressing. Dr Gregory sent a bunch of flowers, which did little to mollify Mrs Bennet. When Sir William reminded Lizzy again of his upcoming visit to his daughter in Kent, she did not hesitate to accept his renewed invitation to accompany him. She would visit Charlotte after all.

  Chapter 20: London

  Upon arriving in London, Mr Darcy could only congratulate himself on his narrow escape from the toils of an unworthy female. But it did not take him long to realise that the change of locale had not managed to rid him of Miss Elizabeth's blithe spirit.

  Peace was nowhere in sight. When he went horse riding in Hyde Park, he was invariably hailed by matrons tooling about in landaulets with their charges. They alternately simpered and scolded, reminding him, inevitably, that he hadn't yet responded to the invitation to their ball/card party/soirée, whereupon he bowed politely and promised to look into it.

  He then proceeded to charge up and down Rotten Row, looking neither left nor right, until his horse stopped frisking before seeking to contrive his exit through the gates without encountering another carriage. Male acquaintances, who hailed him without success, could only shake their heads at his abstraction.

  Darcy mentally noted that if things got any worse, he would be obliged to send his groom to exercise his horse.

  He wrote to his sister, who had removed to Pemberley several weeks ago, and to Mrs Annesley, who related that Georgiana was still not in good spirits and advised continued separation. Thus, when his sister wrote that his Aunt Evelina had invited her to Matlock for Christmas, he urged her to accept the invitation.

  Darcy's encounter with Wickham and Lydia Bennet at the Netherfield Ball appeared to have affected him more deeply than he had realized. He began to have nightmares in which George Wickham had backed his sister into an alcove… He had thanked God for his success in narrowly averting Georgiana's elopement with Wickham, and had never previously thought about what might have occurred before he had arrived.

  These nightmares, of course, alternated with far more licentious dreams of himself with Miss Elizabeth, but he tried not to think of those.

  Attempting some sport as a diversion, he got a bad bruise at Jackson's Boxing Saloon and could've been run through several times at Signore Angelo's fencing school. His opponents wondered at his uncharacteristic lapses of concentration.

  He bought several new editions at Hatchard's but found that books could currently not engage his mind.

  Thus, when he found the flyer for the Royal Society's next meeting amongst the pile of invitations that had been transported to his desk, he determined to go.

  A lecture on optical effects during the heat treatment of glass was given by David Brewster. Afterwards, the Earl of Sandwich encountered Darcy as he strolled the room with his friend, Sir Joseph Banks, a former president of the Society. Both were getting on in years.

  "This is Darcy," the Earl informed his friend, rather loudly, "the Earl of Matlock's nephew."

  "Good evening, Sir Joseph," bowed Darcy.

  "So Banksy, tell him the tale of your expedition to Tahiti with Sir James Cook to measure the transit of Venus," demanded the earl.

  "Ah, yes, well that was a memorable place! Very welcoming people, though a trifle light-fingered: we hadn't been there a day before two fellows nicked all the equipment we needed to measure the transit. I legged it for seven miles across the island chasing the pair of them to retrieve it–checked the distance on Cook's map when I got back."

  "So you were able to measure the transit after all?" enquired Darcy.

  "You could say that," said Banks, rather ambiguously.

  "The three measurements didn't agree particularly well," explained the earl.

  "Or at all," added Banks. "But the botanical and zoological treasures we found in New South Wales more than made up for it. The kangaroo was one of them."

  "Tell him of the treasures you found in Tahiti, Banks," prompted the earl.

  "Ah, the ladies! Yes! They were something else! They get around in nothing more than a grass skirt and are very eager for company. They have a tradition in Tahiti of letting their women entertain visitors. I guess you could view it as a type of outbreeding philosophy. Their king sized Cook and me up when we were initially presented and introduced me to his two eldest daughters after dinner. So they take me off to this hut, sit me down on a bed, and one of them proceeds to smile at me and wave her arms round beguilingly while she turns round very slowly on the spot. Then she took off her grass skirt, and she and her sister proceeded to entertain me for the next hour. Never had a welcome like it in my life!"

  During the course of this anecdote, Darcy had begun imagining Miss Elizabeth in a grass skirt and was trying to decide the colour of her nipples when he realised that Banks had finished speaking and was looking at him expecta
ntly. He blushed a deep red.

  Seeing his embarrassment, the earl shook Darcy's hand and moved his friend on.

  "I believe that boy's a bit of a prude," he whispered in Bank's ear as they wended their way to a small group of fellows. "Bright young lad but comes from Derbyshire."

  "Ah, yes," replied Banks, nodding his understanding. "Cook was from Yorkshire."

  Darcy had Christmas dinner with the Bingleys at Hurst's townhouse. The food was the latest in French cuisine, but he couldn't help thinking he would have preferred a roast, with Georgiana for company. Caroline pawed him constantly, but he couldn't find the energy to flinch. His one concession to caution was to ensure he was never alone in the house, even following Bingley when he went to use the chamber pot. He arrived home three parts disguised and took a bottle of brandy to bed to finish the job.

  Darcy realized that Bingley was not his cheerful self. He seemed to be more deeply affected by Miss Bennet than by any prior inamorata. Caroline had apparently given him a severe lecture about his responsibilities as the head of the family. Bingley had knuckled down and agreed not to return to Netherfield for the present, but refused to give it up. It would be stupid, he reasoned, to break the lease–they should at least benefit from the harvest.

  In the New Year, Caroline was gratified to receive vouchers for Almack's–all that grovelling to the Countess Lieven had finally paid off. She was less pleased to receive a missive from Jane Bennet, advising of her arrival in London, and her address in Gracechurch Street, a place where Miss Bingley had no intention of stepping.

  Caroline was even more perturbed when not two days later, Miss Bennet arrived on her doorstep, accompanied by a fashionable female whom she later discovered to be her aunt. Caroline espied them from an upstairs sitting room and flew to Charles' study where she discovered her brother ensconced with his man of business while Darcy perused the bookshelves in a desultory fashion.

  Grabbing Darcy's forearm, she hissed into his ear, "You must keep Charles in here until I can get rid of Miss Bennet. She has come to call."

  Staring down at the talons that gripped his arm, Darcy could only wonder why Caroline thought he, or anyone else for that matter, would ever marry her when she behaved like this.

  "Very well," he replied, and shaking off her grip, he selected a book and settled himself in an armchair near the window where he could view the carriage below. Fifteen minutes later, the carriage left without need for his intervention.

  Caroline proved harder to avoid. She continually harried him to accompany them to Almack's, but only Darcy's deep worry for his friend's continued listlessness had eventually driven him to accept.

  His fear of stepping into that place again had turned out to be entirely justified. At first he had been obliged to dance two sets with Caroline while she continued with her usual antics, but she had speedily been bumped by far more formidable ladies. Near midnight, he had managed to escape out a back door with the aid of Lady Jersey, who had been watching his trials from a distance.

  He arrived home, feeling as if he had been mauled.

  His valet, Finn, was waiting in his dressing room when he walked into his chambers.

  "Finn…," Darcy started, and then stopped to bite his lip.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Would it be too much to ask you to draw a bath for me before I go to bed?"

  Finn was a little startled by this singular request, for the master usually bathed in the morning when there was plenty of hot water to be had from the kitchens.

  "I'll see what I can do, sir," he replied and took himself off.

  In the end, Finn had been gratified to fulfil the master's request thanks to the diligence of the housekeeper, Mrs Flowers. She had caught two maids in horseplay in Miss Georgiana's room earlier that day and determined that they would scrub every pot in the kitchen before they went to bed. Thus Darcy got his bath and the maids got a respite.

  As he crawled into bed, Darcy wistfully remembered his waltz at the Netherfield Ball, which seemed to have merged with his dreams into a fantasy world that had no basis in reality.

  For the whole of February, Darcy ensconced himself in affairs of business: writing endless instructions to his steward at Pemberley, driving his man of business to distraction, and accompanying Bingley to the City to scope new investments.

  Having avoided all social engagements with the Bingleys after the disastrous night at Almack's, he eventually gave in to his friend's entreaties to accompany them to the theatre. He even deigned to have dinner with them first and to arrive at the theatre in their carriage. He fully intended to escape in a hackney afterwards to avoid Caroline's machinations.

  They arrived, fashionably late, partway through the first act. Caroline pulled him to sit beside her in the front of Hurst's box, while Charles and his older sister, Louisa, sat behind them. Mr Hurst had not accompanied them, choosing instead to head off to drink gin at the Daffy Club.

  While Mr Darcy half-heartedly directed his attention to the stage, Caroline spent her time preening herself and observing the other patrons in the boxes. Having finished this survey, she directed her attention to the pit where other worthies, such as Darcy's cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, could occasionally be found.

  As he sat there, wishing the curtain would go up, Darcy sensed Miss Bingley stiffen beside him and followed her eyes to the middle of the pit, but could not discern anything amiss there.

  However, when the act ended, the mystery was solved: rising more quickly than the other patrons, there could be no mistake as to the identity of the lady in the crimson gown. Elizabeth had turned full about to address two other ladies who remained seated: one of these was undoubtedly her sister, Miss Jane Bennet. The garnet cross dangled at Elizabeth's neck. She had added a black lace half-dress, but the colour of her gown, which was forever etched in his memory, was clearly visible beneath.

  Caroline stood quickly to block her brother's view of the pit and began to discuss the worthies in attendance with Louisa. Darcy realised he was not breathing and gulped air.

  Around this time, Lizzy got the distinct feeling she was being watched, and looking up, perceived Mr Darcy staring at her. In the spirit of their truce, her first instinct was to wave at him, but in the same instant she realized this would be uncouth. Flourishing her fan to hide the movement her hand had made upwards, she instead took her sister's hand and began to make her way to the foyer.

  Caroline, glancing around soon after, perceived that the pit was clear of trouble and offered to retrieve refreshments with Mr Darcy.

  Charles was rather startled by this unprecedented event and protested that he should better go with Darcy instead, but Caroline insisted.

  "I am sure Amelia Melkinthorpe glanced this way, and I know you would not wish to miss her," cooed Caroline.

  Charles wished no such thing. Amelia Melkinthorpe was the latest well-connected heiress who Caroline had decided would suit Charles admirably. Charles knew Miss Melkinthorpe would not look twice at him if Darcy was in the room. Nonetheless he knew better than to argue with his sister.

  Exiting onto the mezzanine, Darcy dutifully escorted Caroline to the bar at the end of the floor where he purchased two tots of port and two glasses of ratafie. When he turned back, Caroline was missing, and he walked back towards the stairs in search of her. Looking down into the foyer, he spotted Caroline at once, talking animatedly to the Bennet sisters, who were accompanied by a stylishly dressed older couple–the lady, he guessed, was a similar age to himself.

  He hesitated to descend into the crowded foyer with the drinks, but this became a moot point when Miss Amelia Melkinthorpe appeared beside him. Deftly handing the tray of drinks to a passing serving boy and directing him back to Hurst's box, she appropriated Darcy's arm and suggested they walk up and down to stretch their legs before the next act. They had not taken two steps forward when Miss Melkinthorpe's chief rival, Lady Frances Colby, hooked herself onto Darcy's free arm and declared she would join them.

  After o
ne hideous circuit of this sport, during which the ladies alternately cooed compliments to him and directed veiled insults at each other, they arrived back at the stairs. Caroline, looking up, and seeing her swain beleaguered, gave an unladylike squawk and hurried back up the steps.

  The bell rang for the second act, and Darcy turned with all three ladies back to the box.

  Then, making a snap decision, he murmured, "Excuse me, nature calls."

  Caroline was infuriated when he ran down the stairs, but given his excuse, she could hardly run after him.

  He caught the Bennets just before they reached the doors.

  "Mr Darcy!" exclaimed Miss Elizabeth.

  "Miss Bennet!" he said, reaching for Jane's hand.

  She duly proffered it, and he planted a light kiss on the back of her wrist.

  "Forgive me," Darcy said urbanely; "I got caught up on the mezzanine, else I would have been down sooner."

  Then he turned to Miss Elizabeth and drank in her appearance. Her gown and the overdress looked even more enticing up close.

  "Miss Elizabeth," he said as he reached towards her.

  He felt his skin tingle as he grasped the tips of her naked fingers. She had, of course, worn gloves at the Netherfield Ball. Time seemed to slow down as he bent to kiss her wrist. He hesitated above her skin before descending to taste her.

  After a brief moment, she pulled her hand away: the usher was about to close the door. There was no time to introduce the Gardiners.

  "It is nice to see you, Mr Darcy," she remarked. "We must go."

  He returned slowly to Hurst's box, wondering briefly who her unknown companions might be. Bored with the company of the Bingleys, he considered abandoning the theatre there and then, but it would not do.

  Returning to the box, he spent the second act staring at the chestnut curls piled on top of her head while Caroline fidgeted beside him. He supposed that she was nervous he might alert Charles to the Bennets' presence, but Darcy had no wish to open old wounds.