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The smile faltered and Jane blanched when the man who walked into the room turned out to be none other than Mr Thorne. She was sure that he had noticed her during his brief survey of the room upon entry, but as this was only marked by a slight hesitation of his head and a blink, she could not be sure. He gave no acknowledgment of it when they were formally introduced, merely bowing slightly and repeating, “Miss Bennet.” After being paraded to him as a potential mate in her uncle’s genteel household, the mortification of being reintroduced as a governess was great. While Jane did not care for Mr Thorne’s attentions, her pride was injured. Nonetheless she did her best to calm the emotions heaving in her breast as they sat down to table.
Initially the topics of conversation were determined by the men and centred on politics and business. But Mrs Garth soon grew vexed with her husband for failing to pay attention to the real reason for Mr Thorne’s visit and began to introduce new threads, focusing on Cherise and her accomplishments. The young girl, unused to being the centre of attention, was a little embarrassed. Feeling her pain, Jane forgot her own mortification in having her erstwhile suitor intrude again so unexpectedly into her life. She proceeded to embroider each of Mrs Garth’s themes, making them less obviously directed at showing off Cherise without detracting from the sentiments conveyed. Her efforts lessened her own embarrassment, and she soon felt mistress of her situation. When Mr Thorne spoke directly to Cherise, Jane watched the girl’s face carefully. She could see no repugnance there, only undivided attention.
When the ladies withdrew after dinner, Jane helped Cherise prepare their musical selections, ready also to calm her nerves if necessary. But Cherise seemed to have mastered her initial discomfort upon being thrust to Mr Thorne’s attention. She acquitted herself creditably on the pianoforte when the gentlemen joined them. Jane stood by her side, turning pages with her left hand so that she would not obstruct Mr Thorne’s view of her charge. Fortunately, Mr Thorne politely took his leave before Cherise had exhausted her stock of well-known pieces. For the moment, the ordeal was over.
On retiring to bed, Jane felt some pain at the thought that she had ceased being the sought-after maid only to be recast in life’s drama as the old maid. It gave her a pang, but she reconciled herself with the thought that in Mr Thorne’s case she could not be sorry. Nevertheless, she could only wonder how Cherise viewed a suitor of Mr Thorne’s age. She wisely decided not to broach the topic with her pupil.
Two days after the dinner, Jane encountered Mrs Garth in the hallway of the children’s wing. The lady ushered her into the bathing room, clearly eager to have a private conversation.
“Thank you, so much, Jane, for your help during Mr Thorne’s visit the other night, both for your contributions to the conversation at dinner and for allowing Cherise to shine during the subsequent entertainment. While I must acknowledge Miss Fairfax is a very superior governess, she does have an unfortunate habit of putting herself forward on such occasions by choosing to play such complicated pieces and singing like a nightingale. Do not think I did not notice that you cast yourself in the shade during the evening’s entertainment to let Cherise show herself to the best advantage. I thank you for doing so.”
“You are welcome, ma’am,” Jane answered honestly.
“I have sought you out to enlist your further help. Mr Thorne has agreed to have lunch with us on Friday, so you will be relieved from your schoolroom duties from eleven o’clock. Mr Garth must go back to the bank after lunch, but I have invited Mr Thorne to stay longer. Please prepare some further musical pieces with Cherise for his visit. I hope you will sit with them afterwards, for I will make an excuse to go off. I think these things always go on best without the parents being present.”
Thus, on Friday after lunch, Mr Garth returned to work at the bank and Mrs Garth soon found an excuse to depart the parlour also, leaving Jane to act as duenna.
As Cherise was engaged at the piano, with Mr Thorne turning the pages after Mrs Garth's departure, Jane felt at liberty to occupy herself as she might have done in the parlour at Longbourn. Retrieving a sewing basket she had secreted in an obscure corner before lunch, Jane pulled out Mary’s wedding veil, on which she had made significant progress. She withdrew to the window embrasure for better light and began plying her needle.
Jane was so engrossed in her work that she did not notice when Mr Thorne approached.
“Well, this is an interesting situation we find ourselves in, is it not?” prompted Mr Thorne.
Jane jumped and pricked her finger.
“Excuse me,” apologised Mr Thorne, sitting down next to her in the window seat. “I did not mean to startle you. Please take my handkerchief.”
Jane would have refused, but when Mr Thorne pointed out that she might besmirch her gown with her blood if she searched her own pockets, she gracefully acceded.
Recovering herself, she sighed. “It is a trifle embarrassing to be revealed as a governess when I was introduced to you as a lady, but I expect my pride will recover in time, and you can congratulate yourself on a lucky escape.”
“I do not view it as such. I ran into Mr Gardiner yesterday and he explained more of your circumstances. I tip my hat to you for doing what you can for your family.”
Mr Thorne would have continued in this vein, explaining that while he searched for a wife with the manners of a lady, he cared little for the typical accomplishments; a working woman who could fill his deceased mother’s shoes would be infinitely more desirable. To his mind, Jane’s gentle manners and very practical skill with her needle trumped Cherise’s piano playing. Instead, he mutely watched her staunch the bleeding. As she sucked on her finger, he felt his heart swell. He wished he could draw that dainty finger into his own mouth to savour the copper blood. He received his handkerchief back in silence, folding it carefully to preserve the small piece of her she had vouchsafed him from the lining of his pocket.
Turning back towards the piano, he observed Jane covertly from the corner of his eye as she withdrew a thimble from her basket and, placing it over the injured finger, continued stitching. After venturing to admire the exquisite pattern Jane had woven on the net and the deft way she handled her needle despite her injury, Mr Thorne quietly withdrew once more to the piano.
When Mrs Garth returned at a felicitous moment to discover Mr Thorne sharing a joke with Cherise on her completion of a piece, she was gratified to discover Jane at a discreet distance from the couple. All was coming along famously.
Meanwhile in Vienna, Darcy sometimes imagined himself married to Miss Elizabeth Bennet in laudanum-fuelled dreams. They exchanged witty banter with each other over the breakfast table at Pemberley while their progeny crawled under the table. These bursts of felicity usually followed ingestion of the laudanum. During his more lucid moments he realised he was really in bed, hovering about an inch above the sheets.
As the laudanum wore off, he began to slowly descend. Then, he found himself following a thread through a labyrinth, like Theseus. Parts of the labyrinth strangely resembled the interior of Netherfield. He was not sure what he would find at the other end. Sometimes he thought it might be his proof, finished and locked in a secret drawer of his desk that he had forgotten about. Mostly he felt he was following the thread backwards towards the heart of the maze. He had gone past Miss Elizabeth, he was sure, and he did not want to reach the outside without her. During his time in the maze, his body descended to touch the sheets. He knew pain was just round the corner, perhaps in the form of the Minotaur.
Then came the nightmares. He was alone, in a far-off land, in a coffin, buried beneath the ground. His foot throbbed terribly, but he was alive. They had made a mistake, thought he was dead, gone off and left him. He beat at the wooden lid of the casket and cried out for succour. Then Finn would arrive and sometimes also Clive Trevor, soothing him, telling him everything would be all right. But when he opened his eyes, he could not see them, only something like their shadows. An incredible lethargy pinned him to the bed.
So, it had been for a week after his operation. Gradually the pain subsided, the doses of laudanum became smaller, and the delirious dreams receded, to be replaced by an incredible itching in his foot.
“My toes still feel like they are there, Finn. Are you quite sure they are gone?”
“Yes, sir. They are gone, but the doctor says that it is not uncommon to feel that they are still there. I will get another rag soaked in vinegar if your foot is bothering you.”
Once the itching ceased to drive him mad, Darcy thought of getting up. Sitting required a gargantuan effort. Aided by Finn and Mr Trevor, Darcy was raised to a sitting position and propped on pillows. Exhausted by the effort, he lay there gasping like a fish out of water. After half an hour, he could stand it no longer. He ached all over. The pain was too great. They helped him subside upon the mattress, only to try again a few hours later.
The princess called. He sent her away without admitting her, telling Finn he was tired, needed to rest. His vanity would not allow a lady to be admitted to his bedside in his current state.
So, it continued each day. The effort just to sit was enormous. His spine ached. His ribs felt as if they were collapsing onto his lungs—each breath required conscious thought. He got Finn to time his attempts to sit, determined to improve. The last few minutes were always agony. The doctor praised him. For what? Being alive? Was he alive? Each failed attempt at rehabilitation cast him into increasing depths of despair.
By the end of the week, Darcy was becoming frustrated, impatient at his lack of progress. The extra time he was sitting was measured in minutes. Although he was still unable to see, he wanted to get up and try to walk around, even if it was only a few steps. In accordance with the doctor’s orders, Finn had been massaging his legs and remaining toes to improve circulation. Despite being sensitive to his valet’s touch, when the sheets were pulled back, Darcy found he could not move his lower limbs. He could feel his legs with his hands. His legs felt the touch of his hands. It was like they were two disconnected entities.
