Chapter 11
Another morning of this nightmare. Darcy woke suddenly, the bridge of his nose itching abominably, and he scowled. That damned cloth splint.
At least he was well enough that he was no longer watched over while he slept.
He reached up and pulled it off, damning Mr Jones as he did so. Having straight features was hardly worth the extra torment. The glass was across the room, but in the dimness, he could see the bruising still apparent in the reflection, although it was fading.
He reached up to rub the itching skin, but the slightest of touches sent pain through him. Darcy swore at himself and everyone around him. Loudly. Why had they not left a damp cloth beside his bed against the event he might need it?
His valet crept in, dishevelled from just waking and Darcy scowled. “Bring me a hot wet cloth for my nose.”
While the man was away getting the hot water, Darcy slumped back against the pillows, rather ashamed of his words. He would apologise to Maunder when he returned; he could certainly not have the man leave him; no one else would ever know his requirements so well.
Half an hour later, Darcy picked absently at his breakfast, thinking it hardly worth the effort. When could he have proper food? He glared at the bread softened in milk and yet another coddled egg. The pap was hardly better; how was a man supposed to recover on such poor fare?
Richard came in and grimaced at Darcy’s expression. “I see you’re not happy today, Darce.”
“Would you be happy with this muck?” Darcy pushed the bowl aside.
Richard shrugged. “Sometimes on the battlefield, I’d not eat for days, and drink out of a putrid stream if I had to.”
“Hmph!” Darcy scowled again. “Why did you not come yesterday? You did go to Longbourn, did you not?”
His cousin raised his eyebrows, unamused, and took a chair several feet away from Darcy’s bed. “You are well enough now for me to tell you that you are quite insufferable, Darce.”
Maunder crept in with a tray, and Richard jumped to his feet to pull a side table closer to his chair, where the man carefully placed the tray. “Thank you, Mr Maunder.”
At the rich coffee aroma, Darcy had a sudden desire to have his own. “I will also partake, Maunder. Fetch me a cup made as I have always had it.” His annoyance grew as his valet looked at Richard, who scowled.
“Mr Maunder, I thank you for putting up with my cousin’s rudeness.
Despite knowing the cause, it must make it very difficult for you.
I will ensure there is extra coin in it for you for the next few months.
And no, I countermand his instruction, at least until Mr Jones has been and said he may partake of strong coffee. ”
The valet — my valet! — cast a nervous look at Darcy, then bowed slightly at Richard, and made his escape.
Darcy simmered, but a few minutes later, he knew he would have to make an attempt to be more polite. He needed to know what was going on. After all, it is my life that will take a direction I never expected!
“I apologise, Richard,” he said stiffly. “I believe you were going to Longbourn yesterday morning. I take it Miss Elizabeth accepted the offer.” He drew a deep breath; he must be committed now. “What did you do in the afternoon, as you did not return here?”
His cousin looked at him levelly. “I caught the post to town to begin the preparations that will be needed.”
So she had accepted. Of course she had. She might never have made such a good marriage in any other circumstance. Then he took in what Richard had said.
“You went to town?”
“I did. This has to be done quickly, Darce. It will not be long before society hears of the scandal. The sooner the marriage is done — with an alternative reason — the safer Georgiana will be.”
Darcy scowled. His whole life, upended. For others. Always for others. Duty is a hard master. Who cares about me?
“What did you accomplish in town?” He was sorry his voice came out as a growl, and Richard’s lips tightened.
“I went to see my father. I explained what has happened and asked him to intercede at Lambeth Palace for a special licence. It is as well that he has become friends with Manners-Sutton in the House; he will obtain the licence for you, and will send one of his own staff down with it to be certain of it arriving in time.” Richard sounded tired.
Darcy’s lingering headache meant that he took a moment to remember that Manners-Sutton was the archbishop. But Richard was still talking.
“Then I attended Gray's Inn Square. Do you remember, you wrote to Gibson, instructing him to use your mother’s settlement for your marriage articles? I have them here ready for you to sign and then I’ll take them to Mr Bennet.
I hope there will not need to be any changes, or that will delay matters. ”
“It is too generous,” Darcy muttered. “I wish there was more time to get it right.” He closed his eyes in frustration. “I suppose she has no dowry as Mother had.”
He felt a shadow fall across him. Richard was standing over him. “Miss Elizabeth has done one thing for you that your mother never did.” He sounded incensed. “She saved your life, Darcy. Consider that. She saved your life. Can you not even think of being generous to her? She will be your wife!”
He grasped Darcy’s shoulder, and he winced. Humiliation burned through him. A gentleman should not need to be saved by a mere woman!
“You need to know this, Darcy. She is marrying you only out of duty, the duty to lift the ruin from her sisters, and only that. You are very fortunate. If she had refused, then you and Georgiana would be a laughing stock in town, subject to all manner of salacious stories.”
Darcy glanced at him. “Your family would have to cut ties with us.”
“They would,” Richard said calmly, turning away and taking a sip of coffee.
Darcy sighed. “I thank you for seeing to those tasks on my behalf.” He glanced at the clock. “I would not have expected you back so early if I had known you were returning from town this morning.”
His cousin shrugged. “I caught the mail coach down at half after four.” He sniggered. “I expect it is the first time I have ever read The Times before Father.” He suddenly seemed to recall something and reached into his pocket.
“Oh, and while I was at the lawyers, I got Gibson to unlock the strongbox.” He handed Darcy a small box.
Darcy knew what he would see, but he opened it just the same.
His mother’s wedding ring. He reached in and took it into his hand.
Deep yellow gold, the engraved pattern partly worn from years of wear, and the row of tiny rose-cut diamonds set close in the centre.
It was perfect — for his mother. The graceful ring embodied her beauty, her aristocratic past, and the regard in which Father had held her.
He could not give her this; she would not wear it. He bowed his head.
“Richard, call for Maunder, if you please.”
When his valet entered, Darcy met his eyes. “Bring me my watch and chain. And then prepare for a journey into Meryton.”
Richard was standing by the window, a thoughtful look on his face. Darcy ignored him.
When the watch and chain were brought to him, Darcy eyed them on the table in front of him, and turned to his valet.
“I want you to go to Meryton and buy a ring, one that you can bring back today. Just a plain one will do.” He could hardly say he wanted the cheapest thing that could be found, but he knew Maunder would understand.
Once his valet had left the room, Darcy ignored the disapproving presence of Richard, and took up the chain.
The fob held his seal and he could attach his mother’s ring to it so that it did not get lost, but neither would it be too obtrusive to curious eyes.
He felt his eyes moisten. Mama would be with him in these trials to come.
Richard cleared his throat. “As I said, I have the settlements here for you to sign. Then I will leave you and go to Longbourn and present them to Bennet.”
Darcy clenched his jaw. “Very well.” He would have to sign something like this without taking care that something else had been slipped in, that there were no errors. It pained him deeply that he should sign something so important so carelessly.
He spread the papers on the table in front of him and attempted to read them, knowing there was too little time, given how slowly he comprehended what he saw.
Richard’s voice was softer. “Are you familiar with your mother’s settlements? If so, I can assure you that these are faithful copies.”
Darcy nodded glumly, and glanced back at the names at the top. Fitzwilliam Alexander George Darcy. And Elizabeth Frances Bennet. Soon their names would be joined, not just on these settlements, but on the special licence, and in the marriage register. The walls were closing in.
He saw that Richard was proffering a pen, and he turned to the last pages and signed each copy. Reaching for the ring and the watch, he pushed the table away, and his cousin reached over and took the sheets silently.
At the door, he turned back. “Rest if you can, Darcy. You look quite fatigued. I will away to Longbourn.”
Darcy nodded. There was nothing to say. But Richard hadn’t finished.
“I did not see Georgiana, yesterday — she was out with Mother. But she will have heard the conversations in the house, I think. Please write to her, Darcy. I do not want her to appear here, especially where she might hear not just Wickham’s name, but the gossip. ”
Darcy nodded, and was glad when Richard went away. The first thing was to secure the ring. He could not possibly lose it.
He fumbled the chain free of the watch and, finding no better way, twisted the links twice before forcing the ring over them.
It caught beside his seal; it was crude, but it would hold.
He would have it secured properly when he was up again, but for now, the rough twist would serve.
He had no patience left for delicate work.