Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice, page 80
Looking to her feet, she whispered, “Yes, sir?”
“The carriage! Immediately! I am going out!”
“Out sir?”
“Immediately.” He began tearing through the drawers and she dashed into the hallway, calling the lone footman to hurry and help the master to shave and dress, then she called a maid to run to the mews and have the carriage brought around. “Going out. You need Mrs. Darcy, is what you need.” Carson appeared in the doorway and she barked at him. “Look what you’ve done to the master! Laudanum! Who were you to be ladling that down his throat! You knew what it would do to him!”
“It worked before.” Carson was white as a ghost, watching his master suffer. “I … I guess that I used too much …”
“Too much! When Mrs. Darcy tells you to never give the master something, you listen! Fool!”
“Leave me be!” Judge Darcy barked. “Let me think!”
“Can I be of help, sir?” Carson hovered around him.
“You can help me to dress.” He groaned and sank to his knees. “Oh … damn!” The room spun and he closed his eyes as he felt a seizure coming on. “Stop this, stop it!”
Come on, Harding, snap out of it!
“George?” He swallowed as the odd smell and swirling lights seemed to dissipate. “George? Where do I need to go?”
Carson and Mrs. Morgan looked at each other. “Sir?”
His vision improving, Judge Darcy felt Carson helping him to his feet. “When my head is clear, we are going to have a very long talk, Carson. Now … get me dressed.”
Mrs. Morgan reached out for him as he stumbled. “Sir! You cannot leave!”
“I must.” He swallowed and clutching his stomach, focussed on the bedpost. “I pray to find that I am only remembering a nightmare.”
Chapter 31
Darcy stood before the finely carved book stand and opening the ancient family Bible, was grateful to see that many blank pages remained. “This should last another hundred years.” He murmured as he read over the names, shifting from d’Arcy to Darcy. “What will the world be like then?” Returning to the last inscribed page, he picked up his pen and dipped it into the inkpot. With his precise hand, he inscribed next to his name:
Married 30 November 1811 St. Andrew’s, Meryton, Elizabeth Rose Bennet, born 16 August 1791(Thomas and Francine Bennet, Longbourn, Hertfordshire)
He bent and gently blew over the ink to dry. “There, love. Your name is where it belongs.” A feeling of great satisfaction filled his breast and looking over the remaining space, he wondered whose names he would add there one day, their sons and daughters, grandchildren. His lips lifted in his small smile and his gaze travelled back up the page to see his parents’ names and the two children who were born to them. “May our attempts be blessed, Lizzy. I know you are sad that they have not been already.” Fixing on his sister’s name he wondered what, if anything; would ever be entered for her child, or where it would belong. Darcy looked to his parents’ names as if seeking advice, and focussed on his mother. “Anne Fitzwilliam.”
Unbidden, images of Hunsford Church filled his mind and he could see himself standing stiffly at the altar as his cousin advanced towards him on Lord Matlock’s arm. Anne’s cold hand would have been placed in his, they would have vowed to love, but it would have been words without meaning. He would have put the ring on her finger and he would have felt his life ebb away with the symbolic seal of their union. His eyes closed and the vision of Anne’s expression of possession was replaced by his aunt’s triumphant smirk. A horrifying picture of his wedding night came to mind and his fingers immediately began twisting his ring.
Two arms slipped around his waist and he jumped so violently that the inkpot nearly spilled. “Will!” Elizabeth laughed and steadying the container, hugged him. “My goodness, where were you?”
Darcy’s freezing hands dropped down to clasp her warm fingers tightly and he breathed out a very audible and shaky sigh of relief. “It is you.”
“Who else would accost you in such a way? Now tell me, what are you doing? I would peek over your shoulder, but as you can imagine, I am at a considerable height disadvantage.”
“Imagining your petite form looking around my shoulder is a very welcome occupation for me at this moment, love.” Darcy unclasped her hands and turned to face her. “Smile.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “Was I frowning?”
“Tease me.” He commanded seriously.
Her hand went to her mouth and she laughed harder. “And what do you suggest I do? I cannot simply conjure a tease, you must tempt me with some ridiculous statement, although, you asking to be teased just might qualify …” Reaching up to caress his hair, she studied his eyes.
“Kiss me.” He cupped her face with both hands.
“You are full of orders to …” She was silenced by his mouth. What began as demanding and possessive ended with gentle caressing strokes. Elizabeth sighed as Darcy’s arms wound around her and he tucked her head under his chin. “What brought that on?”
“Does it matter?” He kissed her hair.
“It does if I want to have it frequently repeated.” Hearing his chuckle, she smiled up at him but still studied his expression. “So, what have you been doing?”
“Look.” Turning her around, he showed her the Bible. “There, you see, now you are permanently in the Darcy family record.”
“Oh my!” She beamed back at him and received a kiss in return. “How old is this?” Curiously she turned back the delicate pages, reading the names of relatives from the distant past. “This is a King James Bible.”
“Yes, I understand it was one of the first printed.” He pointed at the first page of names. “I suppose that these first entries were all done at once, you see that the handwriting is all the same and the spelling so odd?” Darcy turned the pages forward, “And here the style is different and seems to be that way as each family grew.”
“So many died young. So many children.” She said softly as she read dates of births and noted the frightening number of women who died on or near the same date as their babies.
“Things are much improved now, love.” Darcy said determinedly. “They did not have the medical knowledge we have.”
“It is just sobering.”
“Look here.” Darcy turned away from the family pages and into the text. “See these illustrations? Are they not beautiful? Imagine the man bent over this hundreds of years ago.” He passed his hand over the page. “Look, gold leaf … this must have cost a small fortune when it was first purchased, I cannot imagine such a thing being produced now.”
“They are stunning, Will.” Elizabeth said while gently caressing the frown on his lips. Their eyes met and he kissed her fingertips. “When did you last read this book?”
“Oh,” he gratefully grasped the new subject, “we were never permitted to read from here, it is far too fragile. In fact I think that it is only ever opened to record life events. The last time I opened it was to note Father’s passing.” He closed the enormous book and turned to another. “This is the … living Bible, if you will.”
Elizabeth laughed. “The one you may read? Our book at home is much thumbed; in fact, messages from preceding generations are stuck inside. Papa and I would sometimes read them together, laughing over what his ancestors thought were vitally important things for us to know.” A look of resignation crossed her face.
Darcy hugged her. “We have something of a tradition as well, leaving notes, though not in the Bible …” Relinquishing her waist, he walked across the library and stood before a bookshelf, scanning the volumes. “Ah, here it is.” He took down a richly bound book. “I have not opened this in; oh I must have been still at Cambridge. I had to settle a bet with a schoolmate over an important point.”
“And what was that?” She looked around his shoulder at the written history of the Darcys.
“Which estate was older.” He laughed when she sighed. “Luckily he was visiting since Father forbade this from ever leaving the room.”
“Will I meet this gentleman and hear tales of your youth?” She tilted her head.
“I hope not.” His eyes twinkled and he set the book down. “I wonder if he would recognize me.”
“I take that as a compliment to my affect on you.”
“Of course you do.” Laughing, he held her shoulders and leaned into her.
“Oh, am I interrupting?” Georgiana hesitated at the door. “The carriage is here.”
“No, you are not interrupting.” Darcy’s expression lost its brightness. “Shall we ladies?” Elizabeth walked in front of him and they went to the foyer to don their coats, and soon they were on their way to Lambton.
The visit to the village was part of Elizabeth’s master plan. First and foremost, she felt that the Darcy family needed to do something together outside of the manor, and second, she had thought of a useful occupation for her sister besides her music.
Darcy learned what that occupation was when he heard Elizabeth enquire about patterns for baby clothes. Both he and Georgiana started and blushed, but Elizabeth was speaking animatedly with the shopkeeper about always making clothes for older children since babies outgrow their first outfits so quickly. She spoke comfortably of making clothes for the tenants’ children and he managed to catch Georgiana’s expression. She looked very alone.
He stepped to where she stood away from Elizabeth and spoke softly, “She is quite subtle, is she not? The way that she forces us to face the inevitable?”
“She is not so subtle to me.” Georgiana said quietly.
“Good.” He met her eye and nodded to the ladies. “Go on then, join in.” Uncomfortably, Georgiana moved forward and immediately Elizabeth asked her thoughts on some point of sewing. Darcy waited near the front of the dress shop with his hands clasped behind his back, uncomfortably rubbing his ring through his glove, and watched the people passing on the main street. He listened to his wife consulting her sister about fabrics and stitching techniques, and admitted to himself that she was speaking a foreign tongue, but it was one that Georgiana clearly understood well. Gradually the conversation seemed to include her opinions more often than monosyllabic answers.
Very good. Darcy saw Elizabeth looking his way and he smiled at her when she shrugged and sent her eyes to the ceiling. He felt a little of the tension ease with her warm gaze and when she returned to the conversation, he looked back out of the window and let his mind wander to other subjects, and thought of taking the ladies to the tavern for some warm cider. Darcy smiled when he recognized Samuel’s horse tied up outside of Mr. Mayfield’s office and wondered how the negotiations were going.
The halting gait of a young woman carrying a heavy basket caught his attention and he watched her approach the steps of the church and glancing around, set down her burden and run away. Curious, Darcy followed her progress and saw her climb into a gig with a man. His gaze returned to the basket. I wonder what that is about? Perhaps a gift of food for the poor?
Georgiana joined him while Elizabeth paid for their purchases. “What is that, Brother?”
“A girl left a basket at the church and then drove off in quite a hurry.”
“A basket?” Elizabeth touched his arm and he looked down to see her holding a package and frowning. “Where?”
He pointed as he took the package from her. “Just there, do you see? On the church steps? It could be a donation but how they would know it was there is beyond me, she did not knock.”
“Oh no.” Elizabeth opened the door to the shop, the bells jangling madly in her rush to exit. Paying no heed to the traffic or people’s stares, she dodged mud and manure. Darcy dropped the parcel in Georgiana’s hands and went after her. Elizabeth ran across the road and up the street, and finally reaching the basket, bent down then arose with a baby in her arms.
“Good God.” Darcy halted at the bottom of the steps and whispered.
“There is a note.” Elizabeth said softly as she rocked the sleeping child.
He found the note and read the nearly illegible scrawl.
This is Ellie. She is a good baby. Papa said I can stay home if she goes away. Please look after her.
“She has been abandoned.” Darcy looked up to Elizabeth and then seeing Georgiana arrive, he handed her the note and knocked on the door of the church. It opened and the curate appeared.
“Mr. Darcy!” He looked from him to Elizabeth and then down to the steps and spotted the basket. His surprised smile faded to tired resignation. “Another one.”
“Another?”
“We seem to get one every month, sir. Mr. Peters sends them to the foundling hospital in London; the workhouses don’t want them, too young to be of use. The hospital will send it out to be wet-nursed.” Moving aside, he allowed them entry. “Was it crying?”
“No … sleeping. I saw a girl leave the basket off and my wife …” Darcy turned to her. “You immediately suspected a child?”
“Yes, I found one once on the side of the road when I walked into Meryton. But it was dead.” She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. All at once Darcy understood more of his wife, and why she had still accepted him after he admitted his first plans for Georgiana. He placed his palm against her back and nodded as he rubbed gently.
“I have seen them in garbage heaps in London.” The curate said without emotion. “The ones that leave them in the open hope that they will be found. As cold as it is, if you had not noticed … well.” He turned and called for his wife. A woman of middle age appeared and stopped in the aisle.
“Mr. Darcy?” She looked at him with wide eyes and then to the baby in Elizabeth’s arms.
“Mr. Darcy found the baby on the steps, Mrs. Hawes. You know what to do.”
“Heaven help them.” She sighed and took the baby from Elizabeth. “Was there a note? There sometimes is.”
“Yes …” Darcy tugged the note from Georgiana’s grip and handed it to the woman.
“No idea who the mother is? The hospital will want to know, but I suppose the note will do. ” She read it and shrugged. “Ah well, it is common enough, young girl is pregnant and her father throws her and the babe out. At least he will take her back after being ruined. Most of them don’t, what parent wants a ruined girl on his hands? Nobody will want to marry her. I suppose the child’s father has abandoned them both.” Picking up the basket, she nodded to Elizabeth. “Thank you madam. Tho’ if this one lives, I don’t know what sort of a future you saved it for.”
“She is a girl.” Georgiana said softly.
“At this age it doesn’t really matter. When they get to be five or so, then they are of some use.”
“What happens to them?” Elizabeth asked clearly.
“They work.” The woman said matter-of-factly. “If they’re lucky the girls will get a job in service, the boys will be apprenticed out somewhere, but you never know. Stupid girls, a tussle in the hay and this is the result. Lord knows they weren’t thinking of anything but themselves then.” She saw Darcy’s blank face and Georgiana’s mortification. “Forgive me, sir. I forgot myself. It just makes me angry. Girls who have what’s right pounded in their head ignore the teachings of the church and family and get themselves ruined. I say stand in front of the altar so you won’t be leaving a basket at the church door one day.” Bobbing a curtsey, she turned and headed down the aisle and disappeared.
“Is there anything we can do …” Darcy said stiffly to the curate. “Pay for the girl’s care … Her transportation to London …”
“No sir, you pay for it already in your taxes, this isn’t even your church, after all. The shame of it is that the mother is probably from another parish entirely. This should be their problem, not ours.” The curate bowed and opened the church door for them. “Thank you, sir.”
“Yes, of course.” Finding themselves outside on the steps they looked at each other. “I have the distinct impression that he would have been happier if the child had been found a few hours later.” He took Elizabeth’s hand and placed it firmly in the crook of his arm. “I know that the parishes hate to take on the cost of these abandoned children.”
“I imagine that the curate knows his business well. The baby might very well be better off not being found.” Elizabeth spoke softly. They heard a soft sob and looked to Georgiana. “The mother had a hard choice, and apparently nobody to help her.” Elizabeth hooked her hand around Georgiana’s waist and looked up when the distant sound of the post horn reached them. Immediately activity around the tavern picked up as passengers gathered and the mail bag was brought outside.
Darcy spoke quietly, “I was going to suggest a stop in the Tavern for a drink, but perhaps we should return home instead?”
“As good as that sounds, I think that we have had enough for one day.” Elizabeth agreed.
Georgiana looked back at the church door. “Yes, I would be glad to go home.”
“WELL, YOU HAVE BEEN THROUGH MY FILES, my finances, talked to everyone here …” Mr. Mayfield regarded Samuel speculatively, “I must say, you are a surprise.”
“Why is that, sir?” He looked up from the account book he was scrutinizing.
“I have interviewed five others for this position. Not one of them went into such detail with their questions or interest. In fact, I have had the distinct impression that I was the whelp and you were the owner!”
Samuel’s eyes widened. “If I have offended … I apologize, sir. I know that I am young …”
“No, no. Look before you leap. It shows excellent upbringing and I daresay, excellent advice.” Mayfield settled his hands over his stomach. “I suppose that I should not be surprised, your name is Darcy after all. There is a fine tradition of law in your blood, and care. I knew your great uncle, Judge Horace Darcy, when I was clerking here in this very office. I was about seventeen the first time I met him passing through Lambton on his way to Pemberley.” He rubbed his jaw with a smile and laughed, “Scared the devil out of me! But he did take the time to look over my shoulder and noted a few things. I sat up straighter after that.”
