Chapter 21
Mr. Darcy was impatient to return to town after securing the release of Jeremiah Smith and the other nine innocent young men in the Luddite arrests. He felt elated at the prospect of dancing a set with Lady Elizabeth at the Richmond ball.
His sensible side scoffed, What nonsense! Eager to dance? However, the part of him that was deeply enamored with Lady Elizabeth responded defiantly, “Things are different now.”
Just as he was ready to order his carriage for the journey, he received two letters from Rosings.
His aunt, Lady Catherine, wrote to summon him back to Rosings as soon as possible.
The second letter was from Anne’s physician, reporting that Anne appeared to be in better health, but the improvement would likely be short-lived.
Mr. Darcy pondered the matter for a long moment. Could he put off returning to Rosings by a couple of days so he could first attend the ball?
In the end, his sense of duty and honor won again. He would not forgive himself if Anne’s health took a turn for the worse while he was frolicking in a ballroom.
Frolicking! Mr. Darcy was astounded that he used such a word to describe himself, but the thought was so amusing that he could not suppress a smile.
What had that young lady done to his sense of decorum?
His disappointment in forgoing the ball was attenuated by the previously unimaginable notion of him frolicking.
After three grueling days in a carriage on the rain-soaked turnpike, Mr. Darcy arrived at Rosings.
As usual, the absurd parson waited by the roadside and executed a deep bow when the carriage passed.
The day was warm and sunny, and spring buds were showing everywhere, mocking the master of Rosings for ever conceiving the notion of not saving the estate for the family.
He handed over his traveling coat to the butler and started toward his rooms to wash off the road dust.
“Darcy!” and then three strikes of a cane on the marble floor were heard from the ‘throne’ room.
It was clear that the meekness exhibited a few weeks ago by the former mistress of Rosings existed no longer.
He thought about ignoring such a rude summons in his own house, but out of habit he went into the parlor anyway.
“Good afternoon, Aunt,” Mr. Darcy bowed and greeted his mother-in-law.
“It has taken you long enough to come home. You were away for weeks!” Lady Catherine scolded as if her son-in-law were a child.
“I had urgent business to attend to, Aunt. If you will excuse me, I need to clean up after three days of riding in the carriage through mud.”
“Wait! Your wife is resting over there—do you not see her? It is true then. You have been frolicking with a shameless woman in town and have forgotten your own wife!” Lady Catherine was quite ferocious in her accusation.
Mr. Darcy stood speechless, shocked to the core: his aunt had somehow figured out his private desires—even using the same ridiculous word he had used himself. He was equally dismayed that Anne was out of her bed. His astonishment was misinterpreted by his aunt as her having hit on the truth.
“So you confess that you have debased yourself and dishonored your wife? How dare you? You are no better than Sir Lewis. What is so special about the Lamb woman that you betray your wife so?” Lady Catherine practically screeched.
In all his days of visiting Rosings, Lady Catherine had never dared to speak so derogatorily about him.
Perhaps now that she had bound him securely in her claws, she felt no more restraint.
The usual retainers, Anne, and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson were all in the parlor, witnessing this humiliating attack the former mistress unleashed on the current master.
Mr. Darcy calmed down when he realized his aunt’s words meant she could not read minds.
She must have misunderstood what she had heard.
It was no secret within his family that, as a young man, Darcy had been quite smitten with Lady Caroline Ponsonby.
His Fitzwilliam cousins had teased him mercilessly at family gatherings.
Lady Catherine had hated Lady Caroline for usurping her own daughter’s place as potential mistress of Pemberley, and she also despised Lady Caroline’s mother and mother-in-law, as they were both notorious for being loose women, often having many lovers, sometimes simultaneously.
When the rumor reached Lady Catherine that Lady Caroline Lamb, nee Ponsonby, had disgraced herself by having a sordid affair with a young man, Lady Catherine immediately jumped to the conclusion that Mr. Darcy had to be mixed up in the scandal.
Why else had he not returned when she had summoned him?
Her son-in-law was now married, and, just like her late husband, could be counted on to behave licentiously.
Anne, in the meantime, looked exhausted and could not properly answer her cousin’s greetings when he ignored her mother’s tirade and came over to ask after her.
“Lady Catherine, allow me to escort Anne to her chambers. She should not be sitting up for such a long time in this drafty room. When I return, I shall discuss with you your removal to the dower house.”
“Darcy! How dare you? I must be near to ensure Anne’s health,” Lady Catherine furiously responded.
Mr. Darcy placed his arm around Anne’s waist and placed his other hand under her elbow to lift Anne up and carry her away from her mother.
Once she was safely in her bed, Anne whispered, “Thank you, Darcy.” It was all she could say before closing her eyes. Through it all, Anne did not cough once.
She must be getting better.
Mr. Darcy felt like a blackguard to want to question the two physicians residing at Rosings. What did it mean? Would Anne recover?
When he returned to the parlor, Lady Catherine was gone. Mr. Darcy shook his head in resignation. Lady Catherine was but a coward.
Weary of the drama that had ensued since his arrival, he trudged up to his rooms and finally washed away the road dirt.
His valet had already ordered a tray to be brought up to him.
While meticulously chewing his food, he made up his mind that he would move Lady Catherine to the dower house, stay at Rosings unless needed in town or Pemberley, and do what he could to preserve Anne’s health.
He had spoken those sacred marriage vows and was honor-bound to keep them.
The next morning, he insisted on a meeting with Lady Catherine in the study, where the staff could not watch as they had the evening before. Lady Catherine was defiant, accusing Mr. Darcy of being unfeeling, with his mind poisoned by that vile woman.
“Madam, I have not seen Lady Caroline Lamb since the gathering at Wentworth-Woodhouse before Christmas. Please desist in your slander of my name. If Lady Caroline had not completely ruined her own name already through her affair with Lord Byron, she and I would be in danger of ruination by your loud and foul lies.”
Mr. Darcy had never been so severe with his aunt, but with what she had proclaimed within hearing of the staff, and that she clearly had forced her frail daughter to be out of bed to ‘welcome’ him home, he no longer cared to spare her feelings.
Lady Catherine was shocked, but she still insisted on having the last word.
“Then explain why you did not come when I asked you.”
“Madam, I am master of Pemberley and Rosings, and head of the Darcy family. You are under my protection because of your daughter’s marriage to me.
I need not explain what I do. If you are unhappy about being subordinate to me, and unwilling to move to the dower house, just give the word, and I shall have your belongings packed and sent with you to your brother’s house. ”
Lady Catherine sat stock-still. Once Anne’s health seemed to improve, she was convinced that she would again be mistress of Rosings.
If Darcy balked, she was certain his wife would insist he bend to his mother-in-law’s will.
After all, he already had Pemberley. Why should he be greedy and want Rosings, too?
Out of fealty to the family and to behave as a gentleman, he ought to take Anne to Pemberley, allowing the rightful mistress of Rosings to resume her position.
Her head dipped low, and her shoulders heaved. Mr. Darcy thought he had made his aunt cry and was feeling the beginning of remorse when she stood quickly and walked away.
Why did I think Aunt Catherine had changed and would treat me as master of Rosings?
In the days that followed, Mr. Darcy visited his wife daily, sitting with her for half an hour at a time.
She reclined on a chaise while he read to her or wrote letters.
The doctors still believed that Anne would not live much longer as her pulse was very weak, and something as simple as moving from her bed to the chaise had her gasping for air.
Lady Catherine, for all her declarations of love for her daughter, never showed her face once.
One fine day in early spring, Anne felt somewhat stronger and was able to talk to her cousin.
“Darcy, I have not thanked you for your help in securing Rosings for the family. So now, thank you.”
“Anne, I am heartened to see you feeling better. No need to thank me for doing my duty.”
“Richard is back now…. He should.… have been the one to do the… duty. You….” After a long pause to catch her breath, she continued. “…have Pemberley. Rosings is an added burden.”
“Anne, you have overtaxed yourself. Rest now. Richard is indeed back and will soon come to Rosings to learn how to manage the estate. Your property will be in good hands.”
“My property…. It is yours or Richard’s. All I want is to feel the sun on my face on a day like this.”
Anne was thoroughly drained by the short exchange, and Mr. Darcy left to let her rest and to order a wheeled chair be brought to the mistress’s room. If her health permitted, he would wheel her onto the terrace to enjoy a few minutes of sunshine.
Most nights, Mr. Darcy had trouble falling asleep. The yoke of duty, which he had always stoically borne as a matter of course, had felt heavier since Anne’s condition had improved to a level even better than when he first agreed to marry her.
A fierce battle raged deep within him. He was heartened by the lessening of Anne’s suffering, of course, but it also meant that he might have to plan for a much longer marriage to a woman he did not love, and from whom an heir was out of the question.
There was another worry that he was unwilling to voice, even to himself: that the one he loved would marry another, never even suspecting that she had an ardent admirer so devoted to her that he had to try mightily to suppress the emergent resentment that his wife was not fulfilling her side of the bargain by dying.