Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (144 page)

“Did you
see
Miss de Bourgh, sir?  Good Lord, her brittle smile is enough to send any man straight from his house and into the welcoming arms of vice and destruction!  The picture you paint of domestic bliss is tantalizing, but impossible . . . your head is in the clouds.  Or is this my mother slipping you a bonus if the marriage is carried off?” 

Pritchard drew himself up.  “I am sorry that you would prefer to remain pessimistic, sir.  We have cleansed the toxins from his body, and now it is time to stimulate his mind.”

“Cleanse the toxins!  If it were warm weather I suppose you would have him sitting in a puddle of sulphurous water with the gouty old men in Bath!  I hope that you keep a guard on him to make sure that this stimulation you propose does not cost my father any more of his birthright.”  He began pacing again.  “You have experience with a number of men like him, what are your results?”

“It depends on the man.”

“Poppycock!”

“It does, Colonel.  He must decide on his own if he will improve or not. Perhaps you should offer him your support rather than your fury?”

Richard stopped dead.  “Do not question my hopes and defence for my family, sir.  My brother has been coddled from the moment of his birth.  I firmly believe
that
sort of support is what made him the man he is today.  I fear that you are only giving him more of the same.  I am well aware of the concept of personal responsibility.  I am also fully aware of the outcome of disease.  I am in the army; I see it all around me.”  Frustrated, he strode from the drawing room and down the stairs, headed to the library where his brother was reported to be when he spotted his sister sitting in a parlour chewing her lip while a book lay in her lap.  Welcoming the distraction, he entered the room.

“Reading?”  Tipping back the book, he read the cover.  “
The Compleat Housewife
?”  Richard laughed.  “I cannot begin to imagine why you would read this, nor how it found its way into this house.”

“I borrowed it from Cook.”  She closed the book and stood.  “I heard mention of the treatment that Fitzwilliam received for his wounds and was curious to see what was used . . . especially since he did not take laudanum for his pain.”

“Oh.”  He watched her stand before a mirror and play with her hair.  “That is correct, he found that laudanum did not agree with him, well that is certainly understandable considering our brother’s situation.”  He paused and asked quietly, “What has he really been like?  Do you see improvement?  I cannot seem to prise many answers from him.”

She shrugged and looked at him impatiently.  “I do not know why you are so worried, he is over the addiction, he does not take the opium anymore.  He is fine.”

“If he was fine, he would be down at Parliament, learning his position, or working to replenish Matlock’s coffers in a meaningful way.  He would have all of his teeth and his skin would be pink with health.”  Richard sighed and shook his head.  “It is not over.” 

“Of course it is over.”  She looked back in the mirror and pinched her cheeks.  “He is fine and everything will return to the way it was.”

“And what was that, exactly?”  Richard moved in front of the mirror.

“Why are you bothering me?”  She demanded.  “Everything was fine until Fitzwilliam married; now . . . everything is a spectacular mess!”

“Darcy marrying?  What does that have to do with anything?”  He crossed his arms and studied her.  “You are not still wishing for him are you?  As I recall, you were rather spitefully gleeful with the thought that he might have married Anne.  Do you not want her as your sister now that Aunt Catherine has offered the alliance with Bertie?”

“Who Albert marries is not my concern, as long as he does.”  She pushed him out of the way and went back to looking in the mirror.  Richard watched her carefully and then tilted his head.  “You have changed your hair.”  She stopped in mid-pinch and shot him a look.  “It is familiar . . .  Ohhhh Cathy . . .” A smile spread across his face.  “You have copied Elizabeth!” 

“I have not!”

“Everything was fine until Darcy married, my foot!  Everything was fine until he married
her
and she showed you up!  You and Mother went around with her returning calls, and those were precisely the women who Mother would want you to charm.  Elizabeth performed very, very well, I heard Mother say.”  He looked back over to the book on the chair.  “Elizabeth is an excellent healer . . . Are not these cookery books full of grand advice and recipes for treating ailments?  Was Elizabeth explaining how she helped her husband recover?” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.  We visited many homes and . . . Elizabeth talked.  You could not stop her from talking.”  She sniffed and attempted to make a curl out of the long tress that rested on her shoulder. 

“You had nothing to contribute and Elizabeth won them over.”

At last Cathy’s fussing stopped.  “No . . . not exactly.  She . . . I do not know.  She could not speak of the topics we normally address when paying a call.  I mean, she knows
nothing
of Society, but what she could talk about, she did with knowledge, and the novelty was, I think, interesting to her audience.  She had to be nervous, but every house that we entered, she was . . .”

“Assured and sharp of wit?”

“I suppose.”

“And you wish now to emulate her?”  He smiled when she blushed.  “What a hypocrite you are.”

“Not everybody liked her.”  She said spitefully.

“Why should they?  She is not one of us and she stole a great prize.  But . . . here you are trying to imitate her.  Interesting Sister.  Well, you have a Season stretching in front of you, put it to good use.  After all, even Anne seems to have found a husband . . .”  Ducking out of the way of her flying hand, he left the parlour in a better mood and at last found his brother seated by a window and watching the passing traffic. 

“Our sister is desperate to marry at last.”  He offered and sat down across from him. 

“Our sister has spent years enjoying being courted and now the attention is waning as her age increases.  Odd how that is the opposite for men.”  Gladney murmured as he continued staring out of the window. 

Encouraged by this sudden display of verbosity, Richard nodded, “She is handsome enough; all she has to do is accept one of them.”

“Before they find out about me, I suppose.”  He glanced at Richard.  “Did Father tell you that someone approached him, offering to buy Matlock’s debts?”

He stared, “You mean . . . He cannot sell Matlock!”

“No, but the scent of blood is in the water and the sharks are beginning to circle.”  He sighed and shook his head.  “Like our sister is finding, attention is a problem, in my case it is too much.”

“And?”

He shrugged. 

“Bertie, do not marry Anne if you cannot abide her.  I want you to be happy, and healthy.  We will make do with what remains of Matlock, and with time you and Father will rebuild it.” 

Gladney smiled.  “You are trying so hard.  I admire that.  You have always worked.  Matlock will benefit greatly when you are its master.” 

“Are you planning on dying?”  Richard scoffed and when his brother did not respond, he looked out of the window.  “Pritchard says that you need a nice happy home life to restore you back to health and vigour.”

“Yes, I have heard that.  ‘Pritchard’s Preachings’ I call them.”  He shrugged with his brother’s raised brow.  “I am not without humour. That is one thing I have not lost.  You know, the thought occurs to me that Anne could use a happy home as well.”  Gladney stood and walked around the room slowly.  “What has she had of life?  She has been stuck under her mother’s thumb, never allowed to experience anything at all, with the carrot of Darcy and all of his glory dangled before her to covet.  What a terrible match that would have been!   But now when I consider her . . .  granted she probably is weak, but her spirit is quite strong, it would have to be from living with Aunt Catherine.  I can admire that.” 

“She is not that much different from Mother.”  Richard murmured.

“Hmmm.”  Gladney nodded.  “Father married exactly the same girl as our grandmother.” 

“Do not tell him that.”  Richard laughed and sighed.  “You are surrounded by people giving out advice, and now that your head is clear, maybe you could tell us your desires.  What do
you
want to do?”

“I want to get a snuff box, fill it with opium and go down to the club and feel very good one more time.”  He said honestly and seeing Richard’s expression, he laughed.  “You do not look in the least shocked.”

“I am not.  But if it happens . . . I will know that it was your choice.”  The two brothers regarded each other in silence until Gladney nodded and sat back down.

“Well . . . I have looked at myself in the mirror; I have looked at my body.  I am sober enough to know what my fate will be
and
what I have done to the family . . . I will speak frankly to Anne and if she is willing, we will marry and I will remove myself to Rosings.  You . . . should go to Matlock and get on with it.” 

“I do not want it.”

“Good.”  Gladney watched his head hanging.  “I wanted it too much and was irresponsible.  Not you.”  He put his hand on his shoulder.  “Now, get out of here.”

CHANGED FROM RIDING and dosed with Elizabeth’s tincture, Darcy looked up from the letter he was reading and smiled as his uncle entered the study.  He stood and joined him in front of the Pemberley landscape where the judge touched the canvas.  “There is always something new to see in there.” 

“I have thought that myself.  I always loved looking at this one, when I was a boy I would sneak into here and get up on a chair to study it.”

“Grandfather did not like you visiting?”

“No.”  Judge Darcy frowned and shook his head.  “He felt that children were better out of sight.  I suppose that was a result of losing most of his family, he chose not to become attached to those who remained.  I did the opposite, becoming inordinately attached to mine.  I would do anything for Samuel.”

“I think that he would appreciate hearing that from you.”  Darcy said softly and he heard his uncle’s sigh. 

“It seems that no matter how much you try, it is difficult to combat your blood.  I am more like my father than I care to admit.” 

“I do not remember grandfather very well.  Mr. Easterly spoke of him a little when we met.”

“Did he?”  The two men sat down, Darcy back behind the desk.  “What did he have to say, other than curses thrown your direction for taking Samuel away?”  Identical smiles appeared on their lips. 

“There was some of that, I admit.  No, it was . . .”  Darcy shook his head, not wanting to speak of the notes he found.  “I asked what he knew of Grandfather’s hopes for Pemberley.” 

Judge Darcy knew he was not speaking clearly and asked softly.  “What have you learned, Fitzwilliam?”

“About?”

“Anything.” 

“Nothing of significance, Mr. Easterly was very young at the time.  He had an impression of a man, but little direct knowledge.” 

“I see.”  He sighed with the evasion and wound his fingers together.  “I understand that you discovered an odd reaction to the laudanum you were taking?  Susan told me of Elizabeth’s decision to put you onto willow tincture.” 

Darcy lifted his empty glass of wine and smiled.  “Perhaps it was all in my mind, after hearing of your reaction and then watching my cousin’s horrible addiction, I . . .” He shrugged.  “I felt better with the change.”

“I would not be surprised if you and I shared a strange affinity to the medicine.  How did it make you feel?”

“Entirely too good.  You?”

“My reaction is different, but then I was apparently not a casual user.” 

Darcy drew a circle on the desk with his finger, “I have read where it might cause adverse affects when one withdraws, hallucinations . . . suicidal tendencies . . . seizures . . .”

“What have you read, Fitzwilliam?”  The judge asked quietly.  “Do you think me mad?”

“No.”  He looked up quickly.  “I felt the slightest hint of . . . some undeniably intense pull when I was taking the enormous doses of the laudanum.  It was strange and frightening, and I certainly did not experience anything akin to what you and my cousin did when it was stopped, but I do not think of it as madness.  I can see where others would.” 

“I believe there might be some underlying cause that makes the effect of the drug worse.”  He murmured and looked up to find his nephew’s eyes upon him.

“Do you know if Father was the same?  Susceptible to its affects?”

“I do not believe so . . .” He shrugged.  “I did not know I was until my mother forbade anyone from giving it to me.  I never questioned her, but I can certainly see how my behaviour was upsetting to Father and probably my brother.  They are not here to ask, unfortunately.”

“Yes . . . I . . . admit to trying to ferret out the truth of Father’s desire for me to marry Anne on my trip.  I asked Lord Matlock and Mr. Easterly what they knew.”

“Ahhhh, there is the truth of the conversation.”  Judge Darcy smiled.  “And?”

“Useless.”

“Well, your father was quite crafty in his thinking.  He would have welcomed bringing Rosings in under Pemberley’s wing, he would be a fool not to, but he would not have forced the issue with you.  He intended to lay it out before you and . . .” He shrugged.  “It would be your decision.”

“Thank God.”

“You would have said yes.”  His uncle smiled at the horrified expression on his face.  “You would.  Newly of age, eager to be the master in waiting, of course you would have done as your father bid.  But he would not have allowed you to marry at such a young age.  He expected you to agree and he intended to tell you to think about it for a few years . . .”  His smile grew as he saw Darcy’s lips lift.  “There . . . you see, he expected you to come to your senses.” 

“Mother wanted it.”

“Oh without a doubt, but she was long in her grave and your father did not have to take on that battle.  Of course your aunt would not have been pleased with the delay.”

“I can hear her now.”  Darcy laughed then became serious, “You wanted it.”