Chapter 5 London
Darcy took one last look out the window of his carriage at his wife, who seemed stunned, and wondered if he had handled the situation anywhere near correctly.
There was little doubt he had put his wife in her place, and he had been abundantly clear about who was to have charge of their lives—but was that the best strategy for marital felicity?
He doubted it; but blast it, the woman really got his blood up, and she had no cause to complain about the comfort of the bed she had chosen of her own free will.
She was not dragged to the altar kicking and screaming, after all.
In fact, he could not read her expression during and after the wedding at all.
She had been beautiful in white, but not happy and smiling.
He assumed that meant she was unhappy they had foregone the wedding breakfast—as if he would willingly submit to such torture.
What he had endured was bad enough. He supposed she might also be unhappy at failing to spend him into the poorhouse, or parade around London throwing her sisters into the paths of other rich unfortunates.
He spent a few minutes fuming in burning anger; but since his head felt like a blacksmith from Hades was pounding on it from all sides, he needed to calm himself down—somehow.
He lay his head back into the squabs, closed his eyes, and tried to empty his mind.
It did not work anywhere near as well as he hoped, but he persevered for the next hour and managed to sweep aside any thoughts of the wreckage his life had become whenever they appeared.
They always came right back, but he could have some small relief for a few minutes if he was militant about suppressing the thoughts.
An hour into the journey, he banged the roof in a signal to pull into the next inn.
It was not a place he usually stopped; but then again, he had never been to Hatfield before, nor did he ever expect to be there again.
In fact, he planned an embargo of the entire county of Hertfordshire, regardless of his wife’s wishes.
Once they entered the courtyard, he ordered the coachman and grooms to bait the horses for a half hour and get some refreshments, while he took a light meal to try to settle his stomach, which was clenching into knots.
He entered the common room, which was a step down from his usual accommodations but acceptable enough.
It had the usual group of travellers eating and a few local men drinking ale.
There were a few families present, and he looked down to see a young girl of three or four standing two yards away, staring up at him while sucking on her thumb.
The pair were engaged in a minor staring contest, when the child was snatched up by a matron, who chided, “Stay over here and do not bother the gentleman, Lilith.”
The mother was not being particularly harsh in her chastisement, but Darcy tipped his hat. “No harm done, madam. She is just curious.”
The woman looked at him. “She is curious about the fire too, sir.”
Darcy chuckled and looked at the young child still staring. “Do not worry, young Lilith. I am not offended; but you do know you should listen to your mother?”
Lilith gave a slow nod, so Darcy gave her a small smile, and a wink, though it made his head pound again. “It was nice to meet you, young miss,” he added, and gave her a small bow.
As mother and child walked away, Darcy wondered about when and if he would have his own children running around Pemberley.
The die was cast as to the mother; but at that moment, he had a tough time imagining her accepting the required activity with anything other than passive acceptance or grudging acquiescence, which he would find abhorrent.
Of course, her anger at their most recent argument could not possibly last for months, could it?
He really had no way to know, but assumed she would eventually settle, since she could hardly carry a grudge for ever.
She had once called his defect implacable resentment, but even he had his limits, so she must as well.
He sometimes discussed the ways of men and women with his cousins and friends as one does; but since he abstained from most such entertainments his peers engaged in, he knew little more than his wife presumably did.
He had some very interesting books in the library that seemed useful, but he really did not know how he would go about the whole business.
In the end, he resolved that he would do his duty to his family, then he would return to Pemberley and do his duty to his wife and future children, muddling through as best he could. It was as simple as that.
A serving maid asked, “Welcome, sir. How may I help you?”
“I wish a short stop, but I mostly need laudanum. Do you have any, or could you send a boy?”
The maid, a woman of around forty, said, “I have some; but if you do not mind my saying, you appear feverish as well.”
Darcy shrugged, not really knowing if he was or not.
She offered, “I could have the apothecary here in an hour.”
Darcy thought about it, but finally said, “I do feel feverish, but there is no need. Have you anything that might give relief? I am to London in a few hours and can consult my physician but would like to make the journey easier.”
“I have willow bark tea and laudanum. Those should get you home well enough.”
“Thank you. I would also take something simple. Bread, cheese, and cold meat if you have it. I wish to be away within the hour.”
“Yes sir. Sit down over there in the back, and young Lilith just might ignore you.”
Darcy chuckled, which made his head throb, but he enjoyed it anyway. “I do not mind her. I enjoy the attention.”
The maid laughed along. “Sit yourself down, and I will get your things.”
Ten minutes later, she appeared with a pot of the willow bark tea, a small bottle of laudanum, and a bottle of brandy. “You can put the laudanum in anything, but you seem like a man who could use a brandy—no offence.”
“None taken.”
She measured out what seemed more than the usual dose of laudanum into a glass of brandy, but he did not feel up to quibbling, so he drank it down in one go. He then sipped on the tea while picking at the food.
By the time an hour passed, he felt almost human, paid his bill, and got up to leave.
As he walked out the door, he had a disquieting thought.
If he could afford an hour to take tea and laudanum, he could just as easily have spent the same time with his wife, which might not have left them in such a precarious state.
He thought about that quite diligently as he walked across the courtyard, checked with his men that all was well, and climbed into the carriage.
It took a quarter hour of pensive worrying and second-guessing before a relieving thought came to him just as he was on the cusp of sleep.
He may have had a touch more laudanum than required, but who was he to argue?
At least in sleep, he could forget his still pounding head.
The thought that finally gave him some relief was the idea that another hour together with his wife was as likely to end in bloodshed as reconciliation.
Mrs Radcliff did not like the look of the master in the least. She had been housekeeper for Darcy House since that gentleman reached his majority and had worked in the house for a decade prior.
She knew he was as pig-headed as most men, so he would pretend to be invincible until the evidence was undeniable.
He obviously had a fever, and he had the groggy and dishevelled look saying he slept in the carriage, which probably meant laudanum.
That gentleman would have been impressed that she could deduce all that with a glance, but to her, it was so obvious it need not even be thought about.
“Welcome back, sir. If you do not mind my saying, you do not look at all well.”
“I am not in top form, Mrs Radcliff, but I shall survive.”
“Shall I send for the physician?”
Darcy thought about it seriously, but in the end, he decided it was just a lot of sleepless nights and a disagreeable wedding day catching up with him, and the physician would coddle him with a week of bed rest.
“No need. I will be fine. Is everything prepared for my departure on the morrow?”
“Yes sir.”
“I had some light refreshments a few hours ago, along with laudanum. Perhaps soup or stew in my study would help. I need to ensure all is prepared.”
“Yes sir. Give me a half hour.”
Darcy nodded, already thinking about the things he still needed to do before his dawn ship. He would have days to sleep on board, so he could stay up as late as necessary; but to tell the truth, he was only verifying anyway. He had already done all he could to prepare.
A half hour later, Mrs Radcliff brought in the promised meal, and another bottle of laudanum.
Darcy disliked it because it sometimes gave him nightmares, but in small doses, he thought it better than nothing.
After double and triple checking his list of tasks, he decided what he really needed was a good night’s sleep.
With that thought, and keeping in mind that he might not get another bath for days or weeks, he called for water and retired upstairs.
As he sat in his bath, with the laudanum slowly taking effect, he reflected on his conversation with his wife in the carriage, and it was not with any satisfaction.
The laudanum made his thinking too fuzzy to really make any sense of it, but he thought he would have a tough time claiming he had acted as a gentleman should.