AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He nodded at the last, wholly impressed with her quick comprehension.
“Sister, then? Georgie? Yes, I have met her; we have even become friends.”
He nodded in surprise, wondering how it could be true but grateful that it must be, grateful his sister must not be in Wickham’s control. The relief of it was intense. Now, if Georgiana could simply send his man over, Pennywithers would help him depart, would take him to Pemberley, would see things put right. “S-s-s…”
“Sea Cliff?”
No.He shook his head.
“See? Send? Seek?”
He nodded, then shook his head in the negative.
“Oh, I spoke too quickly. Go back. Send? She should send someone? But that is the trouble, you see. She, apparently, is not allowed any say at all. She has written to your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but something strange is happening at Sea Cliff. Her maid and your man have been let go and not replaced, she says. She will not explain other particulars, but she does not believe her letters are posted. Someone there is interfering in…in some way.” She looked perplexed, troubled. “It is why I determined to try to see you for myself. She is…she is very distressed.”
Younge.Mrs Younge was, apparently, still very much involved in his sister’s care. Lady Matlock had hired her in fact, and thus would trust her implicitly. Obviously, the Younges had seen a new means of taking his money, and even though Elizabeth had mentioned nothing of Wickham, he might yet be a threat in the future.
“I know you cannot wish to marry Miss Bingley, or anyone, really, under such circumstances. I see Georgie daily. We walk out early in the morning together—”
She broke off suddenly, her head swivelling towards the corridor, where the countess had left the door ajar, and suddenly, he could no longer see her, his hand empty—she had held it within hers for the entire conversation.
Abruptly, the door swung open; it took him a moment to remember to close his eyes to slits, but the servant did not look at him—few ever did. She marched abruptly to the window and pulled the drapes shut. And though it made it easier for him to inconspicuously observe the scene before him, he longed for the return of sunlight.
“I told ye to come see me once the countess be gone!” the servant, Smith, scolded, her tone suspicious. “Ye din’t have no business here once she left!”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Miss Elizabeth said in a docile voice, very unlike her usual tone. “I wasn’t sure but if she were gone for good and was afraid to leave for fear she weren’t. I figured to give it another few minutes for good measure.”
This appeared to mollify the woman, but her dissatisfaction was plain. “Hmph. I heard ye talkin’ to the patient. They is not to be assaulted by the coarse expressions of the uncivilised. He don’t understand ye anyway. We do not allow them curtains opened. Exposure to raw sunlight be damaging to our patients’ nerves.”
It was all Darcy could do not to snort. The woman was obviously parroting such foolishness as that reprobate, Younge, babbled.
“Yes, ma’am,” Miss Elizabeth replied meekly, instead of giving her a deserved scolding.
“The doctor don’t like strangers about, ’specially on this floor. Get ye gone before he sees ye up here. Though how he expected me to do what’s needed by meself is anyone’s guess.” She thrust a coin at Elizabeth.
“Thanks to you, ma’am.” Miss Elizabeth took it.
The other woman turned towards the door, and Elizabeth followed, glancing back at him once with a look he could barely see, much less interpret.
Wait!he wanted to call. Come back!Stay! But of course, he could not say it. Could not stop her. Could do nothing at all, as she left him lying alone in darkness. He still felt the imprint of her hand in his and fisted it shut, as if he could keep the sensation of it from disappearing with her.
* * *
Lizzy walked slowly back to the East Cliff, deeply troubled. Mr Darcy’s situation was both better and worse than she had feared. He was plainly as sane as herself. She could not know what had become of his speech, but old Mr Goulding’s speech had been affected by his apoplexy. He did not spout curses, of course, but he had difficulties with it, which had improved somewhat over the following months. Any physician worth his salt ought to be aware of the possibility after an attack of the brain. The earl and countess ought to have sought another opinion rather than accept one diagnosis and begin searching for brides. Why had Lady Matlock refused to try to actually communicate with him? And why, if she thought him mad, would she advocate a marriage to Miss Bingley? And would Miss Bingley agree?
But after a few moments of reflection, Lizzy sorrowfully concluded that Caroline Bingley just might. She was not a woman with depth of character. If the earl and his countess offered wealth enough, if she felt their sponsorship would offer prestige enough, if they locked him out of her sight and allowed her to rule…Pemberley—yes, that was the name of his estate, about which she had once spoken of so enviously—she would likely be tempted. And even if Mr Darcy recovered so completely that he was able to escape the earl’s clutches, why, he would still be married to her. Marriages did not simply dissolve because one did not wish them to remain intact. It was in every way terrible.
“Should I write to Jane and beg her to involve Mr Bingley?” she asked. With Jane married, this, at least, was an avenue open to her. She knew, of course, that her father would not pay the postage to receive any letter of hers, and none of her sisters were good correspondents—which was just as well, she had told herself; she needed no help in annoying her hostess with postal costs and had little to repay any. Besides, could Mr Bingley stand against an earl? It seemed unlikely. Further, the Darcys needed help immediately, but she had no idea where in Scarborough to write, although she did know the name of the house in Brighton—The Breakers, she remembered. But when would they arrive there? Jane had not known how long they would remain in Scarborough. And would Jane even agree to speak to Mr Bingley about it?
There must be something else that could be done…but what?
* * *
“We must get your brother out of that hospital!” Lizzy was walking along the beach with Georgiana, shivering a little in the early-morning air. “Mr Darcy is as sane as I am. I happened to be there while Lady Matlock visited—at least I assume it was she. She took me for a servant and barely noticed me. For that matter, she barely noticed your brother. She just talked at him, informing him she was forcing a marriage upon him—and to Miss Bingley of all people.”
Georgiana had been enormously relieved and grateful to learn that her brother’s mind was intact, but again and again, they returned to the subject of his future. A sharp breeze whipped a cold current of air around them, causing their damp skirts to flatten against their limbs and Lizzy’s hair—forever escaping its cap—to momentarily blind her. Impatiently, she brushed it away.
“But you must have more sympathetic relations who could, perhaps, challenge Lady Matlock’s care of him?”
