Suspense and Sensibility Or, First Impressions Revisited: A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery (23 page)

Twenty Seven

"You will tell me, I know, that this may, or may
not
have happened; but I will listen to no cavil, unless you can point out any other understanding of this affair as satisfactory as this."

 –
Mrs Dashwood to her daughter Elinor,

Sense and Sensibility,
Chapter 15

      Darcy glowered at Julian Randolph. "If my wife has endangered herself as the result of a conversation with you—"
      "I'm sure she has not." the professor said hastily. "I've called today only as a precaution"

      Darcy was little satisfied. Until Elizabeth returned home from her leavetaking of Elinor Ferrars and promised to not so much as muse about Mr. Dashwood or his mirror, he would hold Randolph culpable for every moment of his own uneasiness. The archaeologist had called at their townhouse following a discussion he and Elizabeth had had several days ago, a meeting Mrs Darcy apparently had not felt the need to mention to her husband. When Darcy learned its nature, he guessed why. Randolph had been filling her head with his supernatural nonsense again.

      He listened impatiently for sounds of Elizabeth's return and had left the drawing room door open to aid his hearing. He was not angry with her, but he wanted very much to discuss this business with her directly. Elizabeth tended to place too much credence in Professor Randolph's preposterous notions, and Darcy wanted to counter his influence.

      "So I am to understand that based on some half-remembered tales of an old Greek mirror, you have convinced my wife that Mr Dashwood's glass is a legendary artifact known as the Mirror of Narcissus? And further, that after persuading her to obtain another look at this object, you have since come to believe it is cursed?"

      "I speculated that it might be the legendary mirror, and suggested that a better description would provide more certainty. Mrs Darcy then told me that the mirror had been returned to Sussex, making it doubtful that she'll come into contact with it again. As it turns out, that is a fortuitous circumstance" He tapped the cover of the book he had brought with him, a worn
volume with tattered pages. "Since speaking with her, I have further researched the mirror's history. Based on my findings, I came here to urge her to stay away from the glass altogether in the unlikely event that an opportunity to view it should arise."

      "On that point, you and I are united. Though it is the artifacts owner that I wish her to avoid. The mirror itself cannot possibly be the one in question—its craftsmanship is too modern for it to have been fashioned in ancient times."

      "That may not necessarily be true "

      Darcy heard a carriage arrive, followed by the front door opening. The welcome sound meant Elizabeth had returned, for Kitty and Georgiana had gone to spend a few days with the Gardiners before leaving London and thus were not expected home. He relaxed in anticipation of momentarily laying eyes on his wife and putting an end to this whole discussion.

      When she entered the drawing room, however, his disquiet increased rather than diminished. She seemed pale and looked as if she'd just come in out of a strong wind. She also moved more slowly than usual and had an air of anxiety about her.

      He rose and went to her immediately. "Are you well?"

      "I am fine. Though I have just returned from a distressing meeting and am glad to find you at home." She turned to Randolph. "Your being here is also most fortunate, Professor, as we are going to want your assistance."
      "It shall be given most willingly."

      Darcy look her hand and led her to a chair. "What is the trouble? Did you find Mrs Ferrars unwell?"

      "Mrs. Ferrars is quite well. Her nephew, however, is in grave danger."

      "No doubt of his own making." Darcy declared. "I cannot pity Mr Dashwood."

      "You will. Darcy. when I tell you what was happened to him."

      Thereupon she commenced a tale he could not have countenanced the telling of, had it come from anyone but his wife. Only the vision of her sitting immediately before him, safe now, enabled him to attend her in patience. He heard with displeasure her confession that she had gone to Dashwood's townhouse, with foreboding the news that the mirror had arrived just before her, and with incredulity her account of what had transpired after that.

      Mr Dashwood's spirit, imprisoned in his mirror? The very idea was beyond absurd.

      "Mr Dashwood must have practiced some deceit upon you," he pronounced when Elizabeth finished her narration. Grateful that she had escaped the ordeal unharmed, he sought a rational explanation of it. Harry Dashwood was a man without honor or conscience; morally, Darcy considered him capable of anything,
      What he had not yet determined was how the rogue had created a ruse elaborate enough to convince Elizabeth. His wife was an intelligent woman; mere sleight of hand would not suffice.

      "How, Darcy? How could he have embedded an old image of himself in the mirror?"

      "There—you have struck upon it exactly. It is an old image. He used his birthday portrait; he secured it in place of the glass. That is why you could not see your own reflection, because it is no longer a mirror. In fact, perhaps that is why the mirror was out of his possession recently. He sent it to Norland, where he had left his birthday portrait, and a cohort performed the modification."

      "I could believe that if the image had been fixed," she said. "But it was animated. It spoke to me—or tried to, at least. How could Mr. Dashwood accomplish that?"

      "I am still working that out."

      "Well, while you ponder, poor Mr Dashwood remains trapped in the glass."

      "Elizabeth, people do not become trapped in looking glasses."

      Randolph cleared his throat. "Perhaps in this one, they do."
      He pushed his spectacles up and opened his book to a page with several illustrations, including one Darcy had to admit looked familiar, even from his vantage point "Mrs. Darcy, is this the mirror you saw today?"

      She studied the drawing. "Yes. It's not an exact rendering, but there's no mistaking it."

      "The artist never saw the original; he sketched it from description." He offered the book to Darcy. "Mr. Darcy, does the picture match your recollection of Mr. Dashwood's mirror, as well?"

      Darcy accepted the volume, discovenng as he did so that it was older than he had realized. Its leather cover was worn smooth; many of its pages were mottled and warped. The metal lock that once guarded its contents looked to have lost its clasp long ago. From the style of the illuminations and hand-lettered text, he judged the book to be at least three or four centuries old. He handled it with reverence, appreciating its age and artistry.

      "What is this book?"

      "Mysteries of the Ancients, a text that describes numerous artifacts from Italy, Greece, and Egypt thought to have found their way to Britain."

      Darcy examined the illustration Randolph had indicated and grudgingly conceded its similarity to his memory of Harry's looking glass. While he had the book in his hands, he skimmed words. The text itself was Latin; annotations in multiple hands and languages covered the page margins.
      The writers offered an explanation for the mirror's anachronistic construction, but one in which Darcy could not invest any credence. Apparently, however, many others had. He gave the original myth only a cursory glance and skipped to later accounts of the glass. The legendary Mirror of Narcissus had already earned a deleterious reputation by the time of the book's authorship, one amplified by successive owners of the volume.

      "The text and notes speak of the mirror's owners meeting untimely deaths." Darcy said, "yet also state that they died of old age. How is such an end unanticipated?"
      "If you read more closely, the authors indicate that those owners lived few years. They were young men and women who died elderly."

      Elizabeth regarded the professor in puzzlement. "I do not understand."

      "Let us start at the beginning." Randolph accepted the book back from Darcy. "According to legend, the Mirror of Narcissus was created for a vain king who could not bear to see the changes time naturally wrought upon his face and form as he aged. He commanded his best craftsman to design a mirror that would reflect him as he had appeared in his prime. The crafts-
an, unable to follow this order, turned to Aphrodite for aid. He prayed to the goddess of beauty to enable him to create the most beautiful mirror in Greece.

      "After weeks of supplication, the goddess granted his request. Through her power, the artisan crafted a mirror unlike any ever seen before. When he had finished, he brought the mirror to the Temple of Aphrodite, made an offering of gratitude to the goddess, and begged one last petition: that she invest his creation with the power his master demanded.

      "The goddess appeared to him. She praised his work and blessed the hands that had produced it. But she denied his request, explaining that eternal youth, even in image only, was a privilege reserved for the gods.

      The craftsman thanked her and returned to the palace with the mirror. He presented it to the king and related Aphrodite's words. The king was angry. As he raged at the craftsman, he caught sight of himself—old, bent, and ugly with wrath—in the glass and grew still more furious. He cursed the mirror and ordered the craftsman's hands cut off as punishment for his failure.
      The guards acted immediately and severed the hands that Aphrodite had blessed.

      "As they led the maimed craftsman away, the king pointed to the mirror and started to order it destroyed. But then he saw his reflection. In the glass, he was a young man once more. He instructed his servants to move the mirror to his private quarters and retired to gaze upon his image uninterrupted, as Narcissus had gazed into the water. In the morning, they found
him dead, still staring into the glass."

      Darcy listened with the interest he accorded any engaging story. "That is a good cautionary tale against the evils of vanity," he pronounced when the archaeologist had finished, "but like any myth, hardly something to be accepted as fact."

      "Subsequent tales support it," Randolph replied. "According to this book, many of the mirror's more vain owners through the centuries have undergone radical disfigurement in their final days. Young or old, they died ravaged by extreme effects of age."

      What little color had been in Elizabeth's face drained from it. "Are all its gazers cursed?"
      It bothered Darcy to witness distress in her. "Nobody is cursed," he asserted. "The glass is an artifact whose history inspires embellishment—nothing more."
      Randolph closed the book. "I don't believe you are in any danger yourself, Mrs. Darcy, for having looked into the glass today. But I disagree with your husband. The Mirror of Narcissus indeed cursed, and how the curse functions has been a subject of mystery and speculation for centuries."
      Darcy found himself unable to sit still. Harry Dashwood's transformation had been caused by his own excesses—not a looking glass, and certainly not a curse. He rose and went to the window, needing to distance himself from the discussion or risk responding uncivilly to the archaeologist. He looked out on to the street, with its buildings, carriages, people—tangible things, things that were real.

      "Until now, no one has been able to satisfactorily explain the nature of the curse." Randolph continued. "However, based on your account of Harry's memories. Mrs. Darcy, I have a new theory."

      "Do let us hear it," Darcy said.

      "I submit that the mirror's original owner, the king, died because his spirit was absorbed by the glass. He wanted to become the image that he saw, and the mirror granted his request. His body, an empty shell, remained behind. As the mirror passed from owner to owner, those equally possessed by the same desire were also entrapped."

      "It must be growing rather crowded in there." Darcy scoffed.

      "Not at all," Randolph replied. "Mrs. Darcy, kindly repeat what Sir Francis said when his followers released him from the glass."

      "I believe it was
'reddet animam pro anima
."

      "From the Book of Exodus: 'Thou shall give life for life.' In his case, it could also be interpreted as 'soul for soul,'" Randolph said. "The glass can hold only one life, or soul, at a time, the king's essence remained incarcerated only until the next victim took his place. When his spirit left the mirror, it entered the new prisoners discarded body. But the unnatural reincar-
nation could not last long—the king's soul was by then so old that the new body could not sustain it. The host suffered rapidly accelerated aging as the body's clock strove to catch up with the spirit's, until it ultimately burned out."

      "And this cycle repeats itself with each new victim?" Elizabeth asked.

      "Yes. and is at work upon Harry Dashwood now."
      Darcy stared out the window, unable to reconcile the image of the modern, mundane London before him with the mystical, events Randolph imagined had taken place within it. Something strange was happening in Mr. Dashwood's townhouse—having witnessed some of the goings-on himself, he could not refute that much. But he firmly believed Dashwood the perpertrator, not the victim, of deception. Even if he willingly suspended his disbelief, accepted for the sake of argument some of the professor's premises, he still could not agree with Randolph's conclusions.

      He turned from the window but remained beside it. "There is a flaw in your theory. Assuming my wife, through Mr Dashwood's memories, indeed witnessed this theoretical trading off of souls between Sir Francis and Harry Dashwood"—an assumption Darcy could hardly voice, much less believe—"it required twelve others and a secret ceremony to effect the transfer. I find it hard to believe that each previous victim was involved in such a ritual.'