Page 8 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man

Darcy House

The Conservatory

The two men, Mr. Darcy and a stranger, stood at the open door to the conservatory, trying to remain unnoticed. Mrs. Drury was aware of them straightaway but gave no indication of their presence to the lady who was being watched, whose back was turned to the gentlemen. She and Miss Elizabeth were enjoying the tea and cakes that Mrs. Barnes had been so kind as to provide, and she hoped that it was enough to keep the young woman from noticing that they were being observed.

Mr. Darcy mentioned a doctor who was coming today for a consultation.

Elizabeth had been quiet for nearly an hour, seemingly mesmerized by the beautiful flowers about her as Mrs. Drury read aloud from a book of poetry by William Blake. The companion was very much aware that her voice could not command Elizabeth’s attention so well as Mr. Darcy’s mellow baritone, but at least the reading kept her calm while she waited for him. Since they had been in London, Mr. Darcy had spent time talking or reading to Elizabeth every afternoon.

Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth began twisting in her chair, turning so that she could see the door—a clear indication that she was expecting him. Mrs. Drury prayed that either Elizabeth would settle down or that Mr. Darcy would appear soon, as her charge’s present state of agitation usually portended another struggle to get her to cooperate, one which only Mr. Darcy was able to allay.

William’s Study

Mr. Towson paced back and forth across the expanse of William’s study, his head down, one hand on his chin and the other behind his back. Trusting his old friend implicitly and believing it was the only way in which he might understand and help Elizabeth, William had recounted her story to him.

Using only her Christian name, he explained how she was hurt, how Jane and Charles found her and his encounter with her that night in the rain. He extracted a pledge from the good physician that he would tell no one, as it might put her life in jeopardy. Finally done with pacing, Mr. Towson drew himself up to his full height and faced William.

“You say that she has been in this state since the gun shot grazed her temple?” Mr. Towson enquired, rubbing his chin as if in great deliberation.

“According to her brother and sister, she has been uncommunicative and unable to focus on anything or anyone since they recovered her about four months ago. However, while I was staying at their home, she did show some signs of improvement.”

His bushy eyebrows rose in question. “In what way?”

“She was calmer,” he explained. “Less combative. She allowed her sister to take the doll that she clings to, and place it on her bed. Jane, her sister, convinced her that it needed to rest.”

“Does she think it is a child?”

“Jane believes it is so, but since she does not talk…”

“And does she still look for it at times?”

“Sometimes she still walks around with it, and Mrs. Drury says that she insists on having it before she will sleep.”

“Were there any other signs?”

“Right before we left for London, she focused on something for the first time.”

“What was that?”

William hesitated only a second, knowing he would have to be honest with the doctor. “I was holding her hand and unconsciously made a circle with my thumb on the back of it. She looked down to follow the movement. Seeing this, I raised her hand to bestow a kiss, and she followed my actions.”

The grey haired physician studied his long-time friend and sometime patient for a few seconds. “May I ask a personal question, Fitzwilliam?”

William teased the man who had treated him since childhood. “Have you ever asked any other kind?” Then throwing up his hands, he replied, “If it will help Elizabeth.”

“Does she care for you as much as you care for her?” He watched William’s face flush.

“Her sister assured me that she does. I had no chance to discover the truth of it before this tragedy happened.”

“And she began to focus on you, your touches, even though you told me earlier that she grew agitated when any man came near her.”

William nodded. “After she clearly had figured out who I was, she was never afraid of me. In fact, she clung to me.”

“That seems reasonable. With my work on head injuries, I have observed that my patients usually respond to someone who loves them or with whom they were in love, more often than to other relatives or just a caregiver.”

“What do you make of Elizabeth’s injuries?”

“In my opinion, she was debilitated by two things—something she witnessed and the bullet that grazed her head. Though a head wound such as she suffered can cause shock initially, I truly believe that because the wound was not deep, there will be no lasting damage, but the possibility of both happening at once could explain why she is so troubled.” He looked back to see the worry on William’s face and walking over to him, slid an arm around the younger man’s shoulder.

“Nevertheless, we have had great success with this type of injury. I am convinced we can help her overcome this adversity if she is given the correct help. We could admit her to the clinic that Callahan and I operate, but that would not be appropriate as it houses soldiers.”

William was already shaking his head. “I will care for her at Pemberley. Nothing will be overlooked in her treatment.”

William’s resolve impressed the physician, but he had to be pragmatic. “I believe you will try with all your heart, Fitzwilliam, but you have no idea what it will involve, the extent to which you must devote yourself to the task. Are you willing to let your family, your business affairs, your pleasure, even Pemberley, become secondary to implementing her recovery?”

“Elizabeth is everything to me. I will do whatever is necessary, for however long it takes, to see her well again.”

Staring into his young friends eyes, Mr. Towson recognised the determination needed for this type of commitment and nodded.

“Tell me what I am I to do,” William pleaded.

“The most essential thing you must do is dedicate as much time as possible to being with her. These patients have returned to an earlier stage of life, unable to handle reality. You must stimulate her senses, making her focus on the world outside, even if it is just having her sit beside you as you read aloud or as you answer your correspondence. Ask her opinion, though she may not answer. Speak to her as though it were a two-sided conversation. Point out a new rose or a starry sky. Make her focus!”

“Are there things that I should not do?”

“Yes. Try never to let her see you frustrated, angry, or dejected, if possible. She needs for you to be happy and encouraging. Never let her hear anyone say she will not recover. She may not be able to speak at the present, but I am certain that she is listening. Do not hurt her feelings, as any blow at this stage would be twice the grief.”

The kind physician looked away. “I suppose that she has seen enough of that already.”

Shaking off his gloomy thoughts, he continued. “I apologize. I have seen so many individuals with this type of injury that sometimes it boggles the mind to think what they have been through.”

“I can only imagine,” William ventured. He continued after some hesitation, “I must ask, though, are there those who do not recover?”

“There are some. But I do not believe this will be her fate—not with you by her side.” William could not help but smile.

“However,” Mr. Towson cautioned, “do not undertake this challenge unless you can do it wholeheartedly, fully believing that she will recover. Your faith will have to sustain her until she can have faith in herself. She shall rely on your belief in her. Tell her she is going to be well, that you have faith in her ability to recover, and if it be true, tell her you love her. Love works miracles for which no man of science can account.”

William replied soberly, “I shall endeavour always to remember that.”

“It would serve you well in every aspect of your life. Now, if she is going to be at Pemberley, I suppose we shall handle her progress by correspondence. Of course, I might be talked into visiting once or twice to observe her.” His smile was warm and wide. “I did so enjoy visiting when your father was alive. He used to invite me to all the hunts.”

William looked down, ill at ease. “I am sorry I have not continued his hospitality. After Father died, I was not in the mood for company for many years, and I have just returned from two years out of the country.”

“I know. I have heard the laments of my wife and her sisters over your sudden absence from the balls and dinner parties in Town. They had great hopes for their unmarried nieces and daughters.” The physician chuckled as William smiled and looked down, embarrassed. “At least, it seems you may have been better occupied outside England.”

It did not go unnoticed that William’s smile faded. “Things are not always as they seem.”

The wise old physician nodded, grabbing his bag and preparing to leave, he squeezed William’s shoulder. “Well said, my boy. Well said.”

~~~*~~~

A pile of correspondence was spread out before him, but William’s mind was on something else entirely. He had just spent two hours with Elizabeth. She had grown tired, as she was prone to rising before it was light, and he had suggested she rest before dinner. Though she clung to his hands as before, she consented to a nap when he declared that he would personally escort her to her room.

He smiled as he remembered how she had looked up at him and closed her eyes as they stopped just outside the door. She had wanted him to kiss her forehead, as he had done on several occasions this past week. He was only too pleased to comply, though he knew of the impropriety of the kisses.

Impropriety be damned! If Elizabeth needs a kiss to reassure her, then a kiss she shall have.

At that moment there was a knock on the door. “Come,” William called.

Mr. Barnes opened the door and stepped just inside. “Lady Matlock to see you, sir.”

William straightened, afraid of what she might do if she were to see Elizabeth in his home. Sighing, he realised he had no choice. “Send her in, please.”

Rising from his chair, he moved in the direction of his aunt who was just entering the room. “Aunt, so nice to see you again.” He took both of her out-stretched hands and guided her to a chair. “Please, sit down.”

She complied, taking the measure of her nephew as he walked around and sat down behind his desk again.

“And, I am happy to see you, Fitzwilliam. I hope you will forgive me for coming without an invitation, but I was afraid you would be away to Pemberley before I had the chance to talk to you.” She saw the trepidation in her nephew’s face. “Oh, come now. You cannot fear what I have to say that much.”

William smiled. “You can be a fearsome person when you want. I well remember the punishment you administered when Richard and I broke your rules.”

Evelyn Fitzwilliam suppressed a smile. “And the punishment was well deserved, though that was five and twenty years ago at least!”

“At least! But well remembered!” Easy smiles faded as each examined the other expectantly. Finally, his aunt broke the uncomfortable impasse.

“I have come because I feel I have lost touch with you, nephew. All those months you spent in Scotland and Ireland, with only an occasional letter…” Her voice softened and trailed off as she observed his discomposure.

“I am sorry.” Affectionately she patted his arm. “I did not come to chastise you. I love you as my own child, and I find I still tend to treat you as that young boy who used to climb into my lap.”

A sparkle returned to William’s eyes, and his lips lifted at the corners as he teased, “Richard claims my dimples bring out the mother in every woman.”

She laughed. “That Richard! Well, you brought out the mother in me long before you were a handsome, eligible bachelor with captivating dimples!”

The smile faded as she suddenly grew solemn. “I could not help but notice that your attitude toward Mrs. Preston has drastically altered in the short time you were away from London.” William shifted in his chair and refused to meet her eye. “Am I correct?”

After a few moments, he nodded without looking up.

“You are a grown man and that is your business, but I did notice that you seem to be more preoccupied,” she paused, “or should I say troubled? So I am here to remind you that if you ever need a woman’s—a mother’s perspective, you have only to ask.”

William sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he grimaced. “I am sorry. I thought your visit might involve my duty to marry Anne now that she has been abandoned.”

“Lord no! I would never wish that for you, though I would love to see you married and content. God only knows it would have been easier to agree with your uncle than champion your right to choose the woman you want.”

“I…I am not thinking of marriage at this point, but you would support my choice, if I decided to make an offer?”

Evelyn Fitzwilliam stopped short. He is questioning my resolve already? Has he someone in mind as Richard believes?

Straightening her shoulders she declared, “Yes. Though you are well aware that I would prefer you to choose someone of your station, the most important thing is that she be the woman you desire.”

William’s lips curved into a small smile. “And my uncle will not approve unless she is a member of the ton.” It was not a question.

“My Edward is stubborn and opinionated, but he loves you. He was wrong to become angry about Anne and he knows it, though he would never admit it. He has even yet to admit his error in insisting that Edgar offer for Jacqueline.” She wrung her hands. “That decision proves his ability to err, and my poor Edgar is suffering the consequences. It has turned into an unimaginable disaster.”

“Richard mentioned that they have had no more children after their son was stillborn.”

“Jacqueline refuses to try for another child. She is staying here with her father. When I last talked with her, she firmly declared that she no longer wished to live with Edgar. Her father has always spoiled her, and he refuses to interfere. I suppose it is a lost cause.” She shook her head as if to clear her mind.

“And the viscount is still living alone at Montrose Estate?”

“He is.”

William’s voice was sympathetic, as he realised it could just as likely have been him. “I see.”

“But that is a discussion for another time. Speaking of Anne, Edward visited her here in London after her hasty marriage and the equally hasty disappearance of her husband. He was appalled at her mental decline. He said it was no wonder the cad had seen an opportunity to take what he wanted and then leave.”

“What has been done to recover her dowry and dissolve the marriage?”

“Edward has men looking into everything—the possibility of having Anne secretly committed to a hospital for the insane in Ireland, the possibility of an annulment due to her mental defects, and the whereabouts and background of the man she married. Thus far, there is much confusion as to his real identity. He apparently has used several titles, count….Viscount, and we have no idea where he may be. Anne, of course, is of no help.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “It has been most puzzling, and I am afraid it will become more so before this is settled.”

She smiled wanly. “I suppose we should be grateful that the man left so soon after the wedding and has not tried to oust Catherine from Rosings. Can you imagine what a debacle that would be? She might reside here in London, near me for God’s sake, for the rest of her life.”

William could not help but smile at his aunt’s words. “Well, I am glad that Uncle is handling that chaos, as I have no stomach for it after Aunt Catherine’s diatribe when I refused to marry Anne.”

“I am glad you did not let them place that burden on you. She is, after all, Edward’s niece and his responsibility, not yours.” She studied his face. “Is there anything you would like to tell me, Fitzwilliam?’

William toyed with the pen on his desk for a moment before lifting his eyes. “No. Not at this time, Aunt.”

“Then, may I assume you will tell me, all in good time?” she asked, standing to take her leave and reaching to take his hand.

William smiled warmly. “You may rely on it.”

Rosewood Manor

The Library

“Oh look, Evan! A letter from Cecile!” Georgiana was practically walking on air as she ran into the room, holding the letter aloft. “She must have some wonderful news to share for us to receive a letter this quickly!”

Evan laid the book he was reading aside, trying not to laugh. His wife’s enthusiasm was exhilarating. Her light blue eyes, a match set to her brother’s, sparkled as she plopped down across from him to begin reading. He was admiring the way the sun bounced off her golden curls, when he saw her countenance go from pleased to distressed in a matter of a few seconds.

“Darling, is everything all right?” Georgiana did not answer, her eyes never leaving the crisp linen stationery. “Ana?”

Slowly she appeared to focus on him. “I…I do not understand.”

“Understand what, love?”

“Cecile writes that William was indifferent to her when he returned to London from Netherfield. She saw him at a dinner party at my aunt and uncle’s home and…” She looked back at Cecile’s words, a puzzled expression, causing her brows to knit.

“And?”

Georgiana responded, reading word for word. “He acted as though we were barely acquainted!”

Mumbling to herself, Georgiana began again to read the short letter, as if by doing so, she would find she had been mistaken.

Evan shrugged. “Well, your brother can certainly be aloof, especially in crowds, but never to those with whom he is familiar. I have never known him to be less than a gentleman where a lady is concerned. What do you suppose would give her that impression?”

“Cecile writes that he told her he has too many responsibilities to think of marriage at this time.” She stood, beginning to pace back and forth with great agitation. “I thought he had decided to marry, to begin a family…I thought we had it settled before he left!”

“Ana.” Evan stood then, grabbing her arm as she walked past and pulled her into an embrace. With great exasperation, she blew away a curl which had fallen into her eye. He pulled back to laugh at her, gaining him a glare in return.

“Georgiana Celeste Darcy Ingram! Your brother is a grown man, and you cannot insist he marry.” As she started to protest, he held up his hand. “He never forced you to marry.” Her eyes dropped to her shoes. “He supported your decision not to marry, and you managed quite well until you met a dashing, charming rogue whom you simply could not resist.”

Her smile returned and she hit his arm. “Oh, you! You make me feel so guilty.” She kissed him quickly and pulled back to look at his face. “I cannot help but worry. I love him so much, and I know he is lonely. You may not be able to tell, but I can. It tears me apart to realise how much love he has inside, yet he is all alone. I want him to have someone to love, like I have you.”

Evan hugged her close. “I agree, love. However, having known Darcy since I was a lad, I understand his intensity. He will not be happy unless he finds the deepest kind of love—the kind we share. As much as I care for Cecile, I could never imagine his marrying her for love. For convenience perhaps,” he said, “but not love.”

Georgiana shook her head. “You are right. All this time I have pushed him to court Cecile, when she may not be his choice. Perhaps I should just make sure that more of my unmarried acquaintances are invited here so that he is thrown in company with them. Perhaps, then he might meet someone he could love!”

“That sounds like a splendid idea, sweetheart.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “As long as you do not push, and you allow him to decide!” He sat back down, pulling Georgiana into his lap in one smooth motion.

“Now, when shall we learn what Cecile has up her sleeve? I do not think she will give up the Master of Pemberly without a fight. She seemed too enamoured of him, and if I know anything of my sister, I know she is a determined woman.”

Even as he talked, Evan began to kiss just below her ear, trailing down her neck and making his way across her décolletage. Georgiana squirmed in response, sliding back and forth against his now hardening groin.

Breathing heavily, she sighed, “I have no idea, but I imagine she will tell me, as she means to return for your birthday dinner in a fortnight.”

“How fortunate then that we have so long before she arrives,” he responded, kissing that spot at the base of her neck—the one that always made her moan. Today was no exception.

Hearing her response, he stood with her in his arms and hurriedly crossed the room, exited into the hallway, and strode towards the grand staircase that led ultimately to their bedroom. One of the downstairs maids walked out of the drawing room just ahead of them and, seeing the spectacle, made a complete circle, heading back into the room from whence she came. They both chuckled.

“Mr. Ingram! In broad daylight!” Georgiana teased. “What will the servants think?”

He nuzzled her perfumed hair, his ardour beginning to take control, and whispered hoarsely in reply, “They will think the Master loves his wife, Mrs. Ingram.”

As the seasoned maid peeked out of the drawing room, the sound of laughter could still be heard continuing up the stairs and then echoing down the hallways above. Seeing no one about, she cautiously continued on her way, trying to suppress the wide grin on her face.

~~~*~~~