Chapter 7
By the time Mr. Darcy entered the drawing room of Rosings, his inner battle raging among duty, honor, and the resolve to marry the woman of his choice had subsided for a reason he had seldom experienced—weariness.
Even Georgiana’s attempted elopement the year before did not bring on such severe mental strain.
He envied Dr. Taylor, who, having spent most of the journey dozing off across from him, looked refreshed and calm.
Would the good doctor be so at peace if he realized how much hinged on his professional competence?
Lady Catherine and two doctors, Dr. Seymore and Dr. Balsam, Lady Catherine’s doctor from town, were in a tense conference.
Lady Catherine, though still on her throne chair, was not her usual regal-looking self.
In fact, she looked haggard and frail. This alone proved to Mr. Darcy that Anne de Bourgh was indeed in danger.
As soon as Lady Catherine spotted Mr. Darcy, her care-worn face relaxed.
“Darcy! What took you so long?”
Ignoring his aunt’s accusatory inquiry, Mr. Darcy made the introductions.
“Aunt, gentlemen, allow me to introduce Dr. Taylor, the Darcy family physician these past twenty years. I hope his expertise may be of value in bringing my cousin back to health.”
The gentlemen were sent off to another parlor to confer on the patient’s case while aunt and nephew spoke quietly about Miss de Bourgh’s condition.
“Darcy, Anne and Rosings are all I have. If Anne dies, I will also lose Rosings. It cannot be borne!”
“Is it certain Anne’s prognosis is that grim? Is there no hope?”
“Anne has been coughing up blood constantly these past few days. She is so weak she is barely sensible. Darcy, you must marry Anne, or else that hateful de Bourgh will own Rosings soon. He is a French wolf in English sheepskin! What will become of me!
“I married Sir Louis because your grandfather wanted Rosings. The Fitzwilliam family was not as wealthy as it is today. My father accumulated a mountain of debt. My brother, when he inherited, had to sell off some estates to pay off my father’s debts.
If not for his eventual inheritance from Lord Rockingham, he would have been impoverished.
The lady my brother had intended to marry rejected him because her family wanted more for their daughter. ”
Mr. Darcy did not know this. He had noticed that his uncle and aunt were cordial to each other, but nothing more.
“I married Sir Louis for the sake of the family. He was a brute. As soon as I gave him an heir, I locked the door between the bedchambers. It was no hardship for Sir Louis because he married me only for my connections. His father bought the baronetcy to raise the de Bourghs from the stink of their banking past. He kept plenty of mistresses both before and during our marriage, and they catered to his every whim. He died at his mistress’s home under suspicious circumstances.
I felt I could breathe again at his death.
All these years, I have hounded you to marry Anne because I trust you.
You are honorable and kind. You will treat Anne well.
I want only the best for Anne, especially because she has suffered such poor health all her life. ”
Lady Catherine paused to collect herself after telling Darcy the sorrowful truths of her marriage.
Mr. Darcy had had no inkling of his aunt’s unhappy marital state.
No one in the family ever talked about this.
His mother died when he was still a boy.
The rest of the family tolerated Lady Catherine’s despotic manners.
Perhaps they knew the truth and went out of their way to be kind to her.
His own sympathy for his aunt was roused to such a degree that he was ready to forgive her for thinking only of herself and Anne, with no consideration for his own aspiration for marital happiness.
“Aunt, I promise you I shall do what is required of me under the circumstances. But there may still be hope. Let us wait until Dr. Taylor has looked over Anne and we have heard his diagnosis. He has served my family since mother’s time.”
“Yet he could not help your mother overcome childbed fever. I have for years deluded myself and others by making light of Anne’s declining health.
It has not helped. Would to heaven that Anne could be spared!
I would exchange her life for anything, including Rosings and even my own life! She is just six and twenty!”
She lifted her head heavenward and shook her fist. “If you are indeed merciful, pass the cup from me, for I am not ready to drink it! I hired a fool of a rector so that he would do my bidding—to pray for Anne as I direct him. No one knows better than I how to pray for her. Yet my prayers go unanswered!”
Mr. Darcy was stunned by Lady Catherine’s near blasphemy. This was the Lady Catherine he had known—selfish and arrogant. He silently said a prayer: “God of mercy, thy will be done. Amen.”
“Aunt, I am here to help in any way I can. Pray lay your burden on my shoulders. I shall consult the doctors after their examination of Anne and plan accordingly.”
“Darcy, I am indeed weary. Now that you are here, I feel I can rest finally. Do not delay in letting me know the doctors’ verdict.”
Before her nephew could answer, she hit the floor with her cane three times. The butler, Mr. Forrester, appeared instantly with two footmen. Together, they supported their mistress to her chambers.
Mr. Forrester then turned to address Mr. Darcy.
“Sir, your rooms have been prepared, and a bath has been drawn. If you prefer to rest after your long journey here, I shall inform you when the doctors are ready to speak with you.”
“Thank you, Forrester.” Mr. Darcy nodded appreciatively.
Such courteous treatment from the betters was scarcely encountered at Rosings. The entire staff prayed Mr. Darcy would become master soon.
Sitting in his bath, Mr. Darcy contemplated his future a final time.
His physician’s diagnosis of Anne would determine his fate.
In his mind, he was inclined to accept the responsibility of saving Rosings for the family.
Bonaparte was waging wars all over the Continent to annex territories, killing thousands in the process.
He should put some effort into keeping this beautiful piece of English land from a Bonaparte sympathizer without shedding a drop of blood.
He said another silent prayer for the safe return of his cousin, the Colonel, who had been risking his life for the past twelve years serving in the East and fighting on the Continent to protect the English people at home.
His cousin deserved a just reward—Rosings.
This decision made Darcy feel more at ease.
His marrying to keep Rosings was justified because he did not do it out of greed for himself.
Deep down, he knew the true reason he would submit to his family’s wish was a selfish one: once he had done this familial duty, no one would fault him for later marrying where he wanted, even if the woman was of a lower station with connections to trade.
The realization that his temporarily denying himself for a future of his choosing did not negate his obligation to explain to Anne the nature of the marriage if she had not already been informed.
By the time he was dressed, Mr. Forrester had come to fetch him.
The four men met in the library, a place seldom used unless Mr. Darcy was in residence.
Dr. Taylor had a grim countenance. He addressed his patron.
“Mr. Darcy, the prognosis of Miss de Bourgh is indeed as these two gentlemen had already determined. She is in the last stage of consumption. All we can do is to make her as comfortable as possible.”
“How much longer?” asked Mr. Darcy, also grim-faced.
“It is, of course, impossible to give a precise answer in cases such as this. We three agree that Miss de Bourgh will not last till the onset of winter, but will probably pass far sooner. It could be a few weeks or even a few days. Her life is in God’s hands.”
“Is there nothing we can do? Taking her to the seaside? Giving her plain food to ease digestion?”
“Miss de Bourgh is very weak. Spending her last days here at Rosings may be the best way to prolong her life. However, if she feels better and can handle a short trip to the seaside, it might do her some good—it is possible her health will have some ups and downs before the end.”
Dr. Balsam chimed in. “Miss de Bourgh, during her more lucid moments, has indeed expressed a strong desire to see the sea. She has lived in Kent her entire life but has never been near the coast because Lady Catherine deems sea air unhealthy.”
“I see. May I see my cousin? Is she alert enough for a brief interview with me?” Mr. Darcy wanted to see for himself that the doctors’ opinion was close to the truth. He was about to make a momentous life decision. He needed to be certain.
“When we left her not half an hour ago, she seemed to be in control of her senses. You could try to see her now, or wait till another opportunity presents itself,” remarked Dr. Balsam.
Mr. Darcy stood and took his leave of the physicians.
When he entered his cousin’s room, it was not the dim and melancholy sickroom of the past. Dr. Taylor believed in keeping a sickroom aired and cheerful. Anne’s companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, rose to receive him.
Mr. Darcy led the older lady to the sitting room of his cousin’s bedchamber before asking softly, “Mrs. Jenkinson, how fares Miss de Bourgh?”
“Mr. Darcy, it is very good of you to visit Miss de Bourgh. She has been poorly all winter. The mistress was hoping she would get better with the warmer weather. However, about two weeks ago before spring could get here, she took a turn for the worse. I worry so about her!” the kind lady cried despondently.
“I see. What exactly made you think she had become worse?”
Mrs. Jenkinson looked befuddled. She was not a doctor. She tried to describe to Mr. Darcy as best she could.