Consequences (12 page)

Darcy was looking out the window, but his eyes were focused on something only he could see. Reluctantly, he dragged his attention back to the present. His cousin had proved himself most helpful, and he must talk to someone. Darcy knew there was no one on whose confidence he could more depend.

“It all started when Charles Bingley decided he simply must have his own estate. I advised him to rent before he purchased, since the manners in the country might not be to his taste, and he accordingly took a lease on an estate in Hertfordshire . . .”

The story took a considerable time to relate, and the cousins returned to Darcy’s house and were deep into their second glass of port before Darcy reached the end by relating what transpired in his meeting with Lydia Bennet. Darcy left out nothing, and his dispassionate recital was as emotionlessly cruel towards himself as it was in painting a portrait of a fallen woman. Darcy’s relation of his encounter with Lydia Bennet made even Colonel Fitzwilliam give a shudder of revulsion.

Several minutes of complete silence went by before Fitzwilliam at last stirred himself and asked, “Well, what now, Cuz? What can you do now?”

Darcy shrugged. “What else can I do? I shall return to Pemberley and take up my guardianship of Georgiana and the management of my estate.”

“And what of the fair Miss Elizabeth?” asked Fitzwilliam.

“You heard what I said, Richard,” responded Darcy. “I am the last person in the world whom she could be prevailed upon to marry, and even if, by some miracle, her feelings had moderated, how could I prevent damage to Georgiana if I married a girl from a family so disgraced? And then there is Lydia Bennett. What would happen to Georgiana after it became known that the sister of her new sister was a common prostitute in a London brothel?”

“That might not ever become known, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam.

“You know it would, old man. Some gentlemen with a taste for the young ones would notice and would ask, and that stupid girl would undoubtedly tell everything. No, the secret could not be kept.”

After Fitzwilliam digested this sad tale, he was forced to accept the ugly truth of all Darcy told him, despite his admiration of Elizabeth Bennet. The strictures of their society were cruel at times—deucedly cruel when an innocent like Miss Elizabeth was caught up by them—but their society was the glue that held their nation together. It defined the English—the good and the bad.

Finally, Fitzwilliam said, “I am not at all pleased that Miss Elizabeth is forced to suffer for the failings of a sister who appears to have been raised by an overindulgent mother and a careless, lazy father.”

“It is most strange that she and her eldest sister could have become such pleasant, genteel, and proper young ladies with excellent manners and a fine education,” Darcy said, his eyes closed as he leaned back into his well-upholstered chair. “Evidently, their mother did nothing in the way of providing that education, but somehow the two of them obtained it for themselves.”

After another few moments, Fitzwilliam continued, “It is also a shame that Miss Elizabeth’s eldest sister and your friend Bingley are also doomed to suffer because of this scandal.”

After a moment’s thought, Darcy said, “It sounds as though you believe that I was not justified in what I did for Bingley, Richard.”

Fitzwilliam nodded his head. “I am afraid I do not, Darcy. When you first spoke of this, I thought you had saved your friend from an inappropriate marriage. But, after what you have told me tonight, I have concluded it was unjustified and arrogant for you to have interfered as you did.”

There was silence for a minute, and Fitzwilliam thought he had offended Darcy and might be advised to quietly leave. However, Darcy surprised him when he spoke, still without opening his eyes. “I am of the same opinion, Richard. In fact, there appears to be very little in this whole affair which I have not thoroughly bungled.” After some further minutes of silence, Darcy whispered, “And now both of us will have to suffer the consequences for the rest of our lives.”

After another minute, Darcy said in despair, his eyes screwed shut in concentration, “I cannot see her in my mind any more, Richard. Her voice is there, but her face is almost gone.”

The raw pain and despair was so clear that Fitzwilliam was quick to attempt to alleviate it. “Come, come, Darcy. Everything will look better after a good night’s sleep. Eventually, you will find someone to take her place and get on with your life.”

Darcy’s eyes opened and stared directly at his cousin. “I do not know, Richard. I simply do not know.”

Chapter 6

“It often happens that the real tragedies of
life occur in such an inartistic manner that
they hurt us by their crude violence, their
absolute incoherence, their absurd want
of meaning, their entire lack of style.”

—Oscar Wilde, Irish writer and poet

September 1812
to Friday, January 15, 1813

By the end of October, life at Longbourn had become arid and depressing. When the sisters walked to Meryton, they were conscious of a bubble that seemed to surround them as people they knew all their lives now gave them a wide berth. Invitations to dine or to attend parties disappeared in August and never reappeared, and people ceased to call at Longbourn. The sole exception was Lady Lucas, who occasionally called to pass on to Elizabeth some news of Charlotte’s pregnancy.

Against Elizabeth and Jane’s advice, the sisters made one attendance at an assembly in Meryton. Mrs. Bennet agreed to Kitty’s tearful request to attend, for Kitty seemed not to realize just why their lives had become so barren. Her mother’s mind was little stronger, but the evening was such a disaster that, by the time she and her daughters returned to Longbourn, even she could see the neighbourhood’s ostracism of the Bennet family was complete. No gentleman asked any of the sisters for even a single dance, and Mrs. Bennet looked around her in bewilderment as none of the wives came to talk or even came near. In Jane’s bedroom that night, the two sisters could only commiserate with each other since they agreed any chance they might once have had for a tolerable marriage had completely and totally disappeared.

Even more disastrous events awaited the Bennet family in the next year, however, when Lady Lucas came unexpectedly to Longbourn and a servant summoned Elizabeth downstairs. As soon as Elizabeth entered the parlour, she knew something dreadful had happened, for Lady Lucas was grey-faced and devastated as she sat in one of the chairs with Mrs. Bennet at her side. Fear clutched Elizabeth’s heart for Charlotte, since she had been daily expecting news of the birth of her first child, and nothing in what she now saw boded well.

Elizabeth immediately sat beside the older woman and seized her cold hand in her own while her mother hovered nearby, wringing her hands in agitation. Tears ran down Lady Lucas’s cheeks as she looked at Elizabeth.

“She is gone, Lizzy,” she said brokenly. “My angel is gone, and her own little angel with her. They are both gone.”

Elizabeth at first was too stunned to realize what Lady Lucas meant, but it was only a few seconds before a wave of grief swept over her. She closed her eyes in pain at the thought of Charlotte dead, for Lady Lucas could be speaking of nothing else.

“Please, Lady Lucas, what happened?”

Lady Lucas took a letter out of her reticule and thrust it at Elizabeth, unable to speak, and Elizabeth opened the letter. It was from Mr. Collins, and he stated, in what seemed to be rather brusque language, that Charlotte’s time had come and the midwife had been summoned. But something went wrong, though Mr. Collins had not an inkling of what it was, and the midwife eventually came downstairs to inform Mr. Collins that his wife and his son both died during childbirth.

Elizabeth looked up at Lady Lucas in distress. “I am so sorry,” she said brokenly, tears flowing down her cheeks at the thought that she would never see, never talk to her lifelong friend again. She had not approved of Charlotte’s marriage to Mr. Collins, but she had come to understand why Charlotte accepted the man. Charlotte simply wanted an establishment of her own, as well as children, and Elizabeth gradually comprehended that Charlotte had seized the only opportunity she was likely to receive to realize her desire.

And now her choice had led to this bitter end. It happened so often to so many young wives. Something would go wrong, and the surgeons or midwives were helpless to save either mother or child. Elizabeth was suddenly cognizant of how fortunate had been her mother’s birthing of five daughters without a single death or even a narrow escape.

“I am so sorry,” she repeated, unable to find more comforting words, but her eyes widened in distress as she recognized that Lady Lucas now looked more than just grief-stricken and upset. Her face had gone from grey to an alarming ashen hue, and she seemed to be having trouble breathing.

“Lady Lucas! Can we get you anything? You do not look well!”

Lady Lucas looked at her, her eyes wide and her mouth open as she clutched at her chest. Then, as if passing her message to Elizabeth had been the only thing keeping her upright, she suddenly collapsed in Elizabeth’s arms. Elizabeth caught her in unconscious reflex and was able to ease her to the floor. At first, she believed the older woman had simply fainted from the grief of her daughter’s death, but a glance at her face and the way her thin, aged fingers scrabbled at her chest dispelled the thought.

“Hill! Hill!” Elizabeth cried. “Send for Mr. Jones at once! Lady Lucas has collapsed!”

Mrs. Bennet was still wringing her hands, looking back and forth between Elizabeth and Lady Lucas, unable to grasp what was happening, and Elizabeth rushed to the door and repeated her call to Hill. A servant was quickly dispatched on horseback to bring back the apothecary, and Elizabeth returned to Lady Lucas and placed a cushion under her head. The older woman was in obvious distress and was having trouble breathing, and there was a most unhealthy sheen of perspiration on her face. Elizabeth sat down on the floor beside her and held one of her hands, which was completely limp even when Elizabeth stroked it, as she tried something, anything, to comfort the afflicted woman. Lady Lucas’s eyes were partly open, but Elizabeth could discern no sign of awareness in them. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.

***

The apothecary, Mr. Jones, arrived within the hour and hurried into the parlour, dropping to his knees to examine Lady Lucas. He took her pulse and unhappily pronounced it weak. He listened to her breathing and then put his ear to her chest to listen to her heart, and Elizabeth was struck with a feeling of dread at the concern on the older man’s face.

By this time, Sir William had been summoned from Lucas Lodge, along with his three sons and his daughter, Maria. They stood close together, watching the apothecary lift Lady Lucas’s eyelids to look into her eyes. Finally, Mr. Jones stood up and faced Sir William.

“I am afraid your wife has suffered an attack of some kind, either of her heart or possibly a seizure of the brain. She lives, but I can detect no sign she is aware of her surroundings, nor am I able to wake her. There is not much I know to do, other than to make her comfortable and hope she regains consciousness in a few hours or a day.”

“Can Mother be taken back to Lucas Lodge?” asked Vincent, the elder son, but Mr. Jones shook his head.

“I would advise against it. She is very weak, and her only hope is to regain her senses. I have seen such attacks before, and I doubt we could get her to drink anything at the moment. That is her most pressing problem. After a day or two without liquids, well . . .”

Mr. Jones shrugged his shoulders sadly, and none in the room needed further elucidation. People who fell into such comas either revived soon or else weakened until death claimed them. Sir William’s expression was stricken as he grasped the dire situation of his wife of more than forty years.

“I will have the servants prepare a bed for her here in the parlour,” said Mr. Bennet. “You are all welcome to stay here with her or in one of the spare bedrooms. But Mr. Jones, I must ask, should we send for a physician or at least a surgeon? Is there nothing to be done?”

Mr. Jones shrugged again in helplessness. “It would certainly do no harm to send for Doctor Benedict or Mr. Stevens, though I do not believe that either could arrive before tomorrow. But I am very afraid they will not be able to offer a more encouraging perspective. Lady Lucas has entered a state which appears disconnected from the world, and if she does not find a way to escape that state, I have the unpleasant duty to tell you that she cannot live long—not more than a few days.”

With that unhappy prospect, Mr. Jones departed with the promise that he would return in the morning. After he was gone, at his elder son’s urging, Sir William agreed to send for Dr. Benedict, who resided more than thirty miles away, then everyone except for Sir William left the room so a sick bed for Lady Lucas could be prepared.

Elizabeth looked back at Sir William as she followed Jane out of the parlour, and he appeared almost as lifeless as his wife as he stood beside her. Her heart was already wracked with grief for Charlotte and her son, and now the faithful Lady Lucas was struck down. Elizabeth felt a sense of dread and impending doom closing in on her, almost choking her with a mixture of grief and fear, and suddenly she could take no more. Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she fled upstairs to her room.