Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (61 page)

“What was that about?”  Richard whispered and picking up the carafe of claret, gave it a sniff.  “He became the weepy drunk fairly quickly.”

“I do not know, I . . . Samuel?  Has he been drinking heavily today?”

“I arrived not too long before you so I could not say, but I think it is my brothers and sisters that are on his mind.  He so rarely lets his emotions show that I think when he opens up a crack, he cannot stem the flow, and Mother is not here to comfort him.”  Samuel looked at Darcy.  “You are not dissimilar, I think.”

Colouring, Darcy felt Elizabeth squeeze his hand.  “Perhaps not.” 

The four cousins finished their dinners, and removed to the drawing room where Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte, playing and singing for them.  Her voice drew Judge Darcy back, and he stood in the doorway watching his nephew turning pages, smiling at her and receiving her smile in return.  He remembered that look in his wife’s eyes when they were newly married, full of promise, full of dreams for the future.  Sighing, he looked at his son talking with Richard.  He never said it to him, but he was deeply proud of his only living child.  He was hard on him, but that was only because he wanted so much for him.  Taking a deep breath, he walked in.

“Well done, Mrs. Darcy.  You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Elizabeth smiled.

“I wish you had come to church this morning and heard her, Uncle.  She belongs with the angels.”  Darcy smiled.  “Although she nearly jumped to heaven with the first flourish from the organ.” 

Laughing, she leaned on him and looked up to his twinkling eyes, “You could have warned me!  I was in awe of my surroundings when suddenly that sound echoed off the walls!”

“No, no, I love seeing your reaction to new things.”  He slipped his arm around her waist and turned to explain to the others, “The organist was ill last week, so when I saw him taking his place this morning, I knew that she would surely be surprised.”

“Growing up with a tiny pianoforte in Meryton, yes, I was surprised!” 

“Have you ever heard an organ before?”  Richard asked.  “I tried playing one once, we were in Spain, and were taking shelter in a church.”  Chuckling, he looked around.  “Sounded like cats yowling!” 

“You know Aunt Catherine would say that if she had taken the trouble to learn, she would be most proficient.”  Darcy laughed and studying Elizabeth, his smile softened.  “You are looking tired, love.” 

“I am fine, and your uncle has just joined us.”

“We have a very long day ahead of us, and an early start.”  He raised his brows and stood, holding out his hands.  “We should be going.”

“Oh, Will . . .”

“I am sorry to have missed so much of the evening; but Darcy is correct, it is a long journey.  One toast before you go.” 

“I cannot object to that.”  Richard rubbed his hands together and looked over the assortment of carafes.  “What is that odd whitish one?”

“Orgeat!”  Elizabeth smiled happily. 

“This time I will try it.”  Darcy laughed.

“Good, I was going to suggest it, a wedding toast.   I first tried this in Italy when George and I went on our grand tour.”  Judge Darcy fussed over the glasses.  “Here, Samuel, Colonel . . .” He handed them around.  “This is for you, Darcy, and Mrs. Darcy.”  He picked up his glass.  “To the journey home; and a new beginning for Pemberley.”  They all raised their glasses and drank.  

Darcy’s nose wrinkled.  “It is odd.”

“Oh no, it is lovely, you are just ruined from all of that port!”  Seeing his glass was empty, Elizabeth handed hers over to him.  “Try some more, you will see.”

“No, thank you.  I leave it to the ladies.  I am not fond of chewing my drinks.”  He laughed and saw Richard had the same expression he did.  “You agree?”

“Even Father’s port would be an improvement!  Too sweet.”  He chuckled.  “But this is a wedding toast, and it is to the sweetness of your marriage.”

“My wife and I have enjoyed it for years.”  Judge Darcy held out his hand when Darcy took Elizabeth’s glass and set them down.  “A peaceful journey, Fitzwilliam.” 

“Thank you, sir.”  His eyes widened when his uncle clasped him in a tight embrace.

Letting go, he turned to Elizabeth.  “Mrs. Darcy, I again apologize for my behaviour.  I can hardly explain what came over me or what I said, I am only certain that I gave offense.” 

“I understand, sir.  I hope that we will grow to know each other well.”  She smiled and seeing he would not take her hand, wrapped it around Darcy’s arm.  “Richard, will you come with us?”

Startled to be addressed by his first name, he smiled widely at her.  “No, go on ahead; I will catch a ride back with Samuel.”  He came forward and shook Darcy’s hand and bowed over hers.  “I will see you at Pemberley.  I cannot wait to hear Darcy tell your reaction to it.” 

“I am all anticipation after hearing so many wonderful descriptions!” 

“Elizabeth,” Samuel took her hand and kissing it, smiled into her eyes, “it is always a pleasure to see you.” 

“And I so enjoy seeing you, Samuel.  Thank you for all you have done.”

“I only confirmed what you decided on your own.”   

Darcy stepped to her side, “Come, Elizabeth, let us go home.”  He added softly, “Thank you, Samuel.”

Pleased with his cousin’s praise, he smiled, “I am glad to have been of use.”   

They made their way out, and soon were travelling the short distance home.  Darcy drew her into his embrace.  “You were extraordinarily gracious, my love.  I do not know what was wrong with Uncle tonight. He was like two different people living within one.  I worry for him.”

“I do not know him and I saw the same.  Your uncle reminds me of you in some ways, not just his looks, you both wear your burdens heavily.”  In the darkened carriage, she could not see his face colouring, but she knew it was.  “But of course you are different people.  I see how your soul is shaped.  I see that you are a gentle man, as well as a gentleman.” 

“Sometimes I wonder if I am either.” 

“You are, and I am honoured that you chose me to share your life.”

Feeling the overwhelming need to express his love for her, he leaned in and brushed his lips to her mouth. “Dearest . . . we have no reason to hold back now . . .” 

Instantly shy, she whispered, “My courses will be over in another day or so, perhaps we could wait . . .?”  Hearing his sigh, she held his hands and looked down to her lap.  “I will be self-conscious enough without . . . that.”

“Of course . . .” Darcy swallowed back his disappointment.  “Of course, I forgot, and I promised you . . .” Letting out a deep breath, he laughed softly, and caressing her cheek, lifted her chin so he could try to read her eyes as they drew up under the lighted portico.  “Besides, it is Sunday.” 

“Why do I think that particular rule will fall by the wayside soon?”  Elizabeth kissed his hovering lips and then sharing his need, pulled his head down and kissed him again.  “Oh Will,  I want you, too . . . Soon . . .”

“Please Lord, yes. . .”  They startled from their kiss when the carriage door opened. 

“Forgive me, sir.”  The footman quickly moved away.

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, and taking her by the hand, they were quickly inside and removing their coats.   When the servants disappeared, they stood staring at each other.  The tension between them crackled.  Darcy took a step forward and cupping his hand behind her head, dipped his face down to deliver a searing kiss.  “Elizabeth . . .”  His breathing increased and pulling her to his chest, he could feel her body melting into his as his mouth wandered down her throat.  “Please . . .” 

Elizabeth’s head tilted back and she moaned softly.  “Oh, Will . . .”

A small voice in his mind somehow managed to be heard, and he forced himself to stop.  “Forgive me . . . I . . . I am being unfair.  You asked for time.”  He kissed her and unsteadily they separated.  “Go on upstairs, I . . . I will join you soon.  I . . . just need a moment out of your presence to calm.”  Shaking his head, he laughed softly.  “Of course, it will only start over again when we retire.” 

“I will see you in our chambers, dear man.”  Elizabeth kissed him and held his face in her hand, reading his eyes, then regretfully started up the stairs. 

Darcy watched as long as he could, so tempted to ignore her wishes and start after her.  If he followed her up that moment, he would be throwing her on the bed, he knew it, and that was not what he wanted for their first time.  “Calm, I need calm . . .” Retreating to his study he closed the door behind him, and took a deep breath.  Spotting the port, he poured out a glass, and raised it in toast to the Pemberley landscape.  “I cannot wait to bring you home, dearest Elizabeth.”  He then downed the wine and making a face, looked at the decanter.  “Richard was correct, it
is
awful.” 

Sinking down onto the chair he and Elizabeth had occupied so pleasantly together only hours before he closed his eyes, urging the pressing, aching feeling of his desire to die away, a task that was becoming increasingly difficult to achieve.  After several fruitless minutes he opened his eyes again, and trying to focus on something other than the feel of her in his lap, stared at the landscape, forcing himself to notice differences between his painting and that of his uncle’s.  He blinked.  The painting seemed to be . . . moving?  Shaking his head, he stood, and suddenly felt lightheaded. 

“What is this?”  He gasped as overwhelming cramps gripped him and he clutched at his stomach, nausea bringing waves of bile to his throat.  He tasted the port and the orgeat, then coughing; he searched, nearly blind, for the commode somewhere in the room.  A loud whining buzzing sound came to his ears as blackness filled his vision and his heart began racing.  Reaching out for support his hands found the bookcase, and grasping it, the door to the library pushed open and he fell flat, curling into a ball as unrelenting nausea overtook him.  “Lizzy . . .” He said weakly as he coughed.  “Lord . . .  Help me!” 

Chapter 20

“H
e has not appeared yet, madam.”  Parker answered Elizabeth’s unspoken question when she peeked into the dressing room.

“He has not?”  Biting her lip she walked back to the bedchamber.  Uncertain what to do, she sat down on the mattress and looked at the clock.  “It has been over a half-hour . . . maybe longer.  Surely he is better now?  He is not angry that I said no . . . is he?”  Worrying the sash on her robe, she waited a few minutes longer, listening for his footsteps in the hallway. 

“This is not like him.”  Getting up to pace, she walked to the door and back to the bed.  Checking the clock again, she opened the door and looked out into the hallway.  “This is ridiculous!”  Determined, she marched down the stairs.  “It should not take nearly an hour to . . . relax.”  Arriving at the study door, she knocked and heard no response.  “Fitzwilliam?”  She turned the handle and entered.  Immediately the unmistakable scent of sick struck her nose, but she saw no sign of her husband.  “Will?”  She saw shattered glass on the floor, a puddle of wine, and then at last spotted the open bookcase and Darcy’s legs.   Elizabeth screamed, “
WILL
!” 

DARCY BLINKED OPEN HIS EYES; confused to see that he was lying in his bed and changed into his nightshirt. “Lizzy?”  He swallowed and making a face, gladly accepted the glass of water and toothbrush that were offered to him.

“Mrs. Darcy is just changing into a fresh nightdress, sir.  She would not leave your side until you were settled.”  Parker’s voice was full of admiration.  He held a basin as Darcy spat, and handed him some peppermint leaves to chew.  “She would have carried you upstairs herself if she could have managed it.”

Darcy passed his palm over his still clammy forehead and down his face.  “What the devil happened to me?”

“We are wondering the same, sir.  Mrs. Darcy came looking for you in the dressing room, and when I told her you had not come upstairs yet, she went down to your study.  She found you lying in the bookcase.  You were a man drowning on dry land.”  Darcy’s brow creased.  “You were on your back and had vomited.  Lowry tells me you were blue.”  Parker’s face became grim.  “Mrs. Darcy called for help, then tried to lift you.  She managed to move you up enough so that the bookcase caught your back and the weight tipped you onto your side.  That got you coughing it out and breathing again.” 

“I do not remember.”  He said softly.

“Mrs. Darcy will do enough remembering for both of you, sir.  She was calling orders left and right, she knew what to do.  Lowry and Mrs. Gaston were paralyzed but jumped when she raised her voice.” 

A slight smile appeared.  “She said she was a dab hand at healing.  It seems I am to be the recipient of her care.” 

“I believe she was acting more from fear of losing you, sir.”  Parker was glad to see Darcy’s cheeks regain a little colour as he blushed, “But I daresay she is about to begin her care.”  He looked to the door as Elizabeth entered.  “He is waiting for you, madam.”

“Thank you, Parker.”  She sighed out her relief to see Darcy’s blue, bloodshot eyes fixed on her.  He was clearly exhausted, but the smile was genuine.  She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his hair from his face.  He took her hand and kissed it then opened his arms.  Elizabeth curled against his chest and rested her head over his heart.  Parker discreetly left the room and headed downstairs to reassure the worried staff; still busy cleaning the study. 

“You saved me.”  Darcy kissed her hair.  “Thank you, dearest.” 

“I do not know what I did, I was so frightened.  The life was leaving your eyes.”  Her voice cracked, “You were so cold, Will.”  She hugged him tighter.  “You were not moving . . . your skin was so pale . . .  you were not breathing.”  Darcy held her as tightly as he could.  She looked up to him.  “What happened?”

Bewildered, he read the deep worry that remained in her eyes and kissed her tenderly.  “I do not know.  I remember sitting down.”  Rubbing his hands over her shoulders, he relived the scene in his mind.  “I drank a glass of port . . . and then . . . I felt dizzy.”