Left to Follow
By DJ Clawson
This story continues the series that began with "A Bit of Advice." At this point, you really should go read the others before trying to read this one. New characters abound.
Chapter 28 - The Harvest Festival
The Darcys returned to Pemberley as quietly as was possible, which was not very quiet, and Elizabeth discreetly tugged on her husband's hand as he observed the crowd greeting him as if he was a distant, uncomfortable observer. He did nod and acknowledge them in every necessary way required of him, and then retired to his chambers until dinner. Though he did not express it, he was obviously most displeased that they had delayed the harvest festival until his return, which meant he had to preside over it. Decorations were thrown up as quickly as possible and he made only a minimal appearance. Georgiana was also in a state of despair, but managed to put on a smile as Elizabeth reassured her that Darcy would come around. Still, Elizabeth imagined to have one's future put on hold by an overprotective, elder brother was clearly its own strain.
Settled at Pemberley, Darcy's physical recovery continued but he remained retreated from everything except the basic civilities required for social life. He saw his children, but didn't play with them; Georgiana and Grégoire were officially charged with distracting Geoffrey and Anne from their father's infirmary. Sarah Darcy was not old enough to notice.
There was also the other matter, that of Elizabeth's own increasing girth. Since Austria, Darcy had made no attempts to involve her in conversation about her condition. When she brought it up he was polite but uninterested. She knew that her own emotions were not as they normally were, after both the strain of what was happening with her own body and what was happening to their family, but that could not help her dismiss her fears.
There was the matter of who to confide in. Jane, no doubt, would be supportive but would she be helpful? Elizabeth was tired of crying. She did not want a shoulder for that - she could probably do it on Darcy's and he would comfort her, if only she didn't give the reason. For once in her life, Elizabeth did not turn to her sister.
Actually, that was not entirely true. There was one resident also hurt by Darcy's infirmary, whatever it was, and it was Georgiana. Georgiana Darcy, a child no longer, was sitting on her heels impatiently but so patiently. She loved her brother, yes, but he was not her responsibility. Elizabeth doubted that in the throws of love she would have so much patience for her own father if he had not consented to her own marriage, but Georgiana suffered in silence.
In their time as sisters, Elizabeth and Georgiana had treated each other as such, and the younger of the pair had blossomed, but perhaps, now was not the time to stop unconsciously looking down at her.
Her mind guiltily set, Elizabeth found Georgiana in her sitting room, reading. The book was in French. "Georgiana."
"Elizabeth." She set it aside as if she was ashamed of it.
"What are you reading if I may inquire ...?"
"Oh, it's - I borrowed it from Mrs. Maddox. It's a history of Scotland. They were allies for many years, the Scots and the French, against the English." She picked it back up and caressed it. "It makes me feel nearer ... somehow."
"I understand." Elizabeth could, in fact, imagine it. "It will pass."
"It shouldn't have to."
"I mean - Darcy. He will give in."
"He shouldn't have to give in," Georgiana said with a surprising amount of anger. "He's my brother and I'm in love with a man who will care for me and isn't terribly far away from Derbyshire. Why should he resist? I am sick of his protectiveness." She put her hand over her mouth. "Forgive me. I don't understand him sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Elizabeth said. "But - in regards to yourself, to all of us, may I ask you something?"
Georgiana looked up at her. "Of course."
"Do you think Darcy is well?"
Her sister-in-law did seem to grasp the severity of her meaning, because she looked down at the book again, and then off, before answering, "I don't know. I'm perhaps not the best person to ask."
"You've known him all of your life!"
"But he's always been distant - or he was, before he was married. You know he's been more a father to me than a brother." She shook her head. "I cannot judge."
"But you suspect."
"Everyone suspects."
"Everyone? Pray, who is everyone?"
"I heard some chatter in the kitchen - about how odd he was acting. Mrs. Reynolds came in and yelled at them all for talking about the master that way. Servants just talk - I know they do." Georgiana continued, "They didn't say - anything specific. There was a rumor going around that he yelled at one of the under-gardeners, but I know that wasn't true. They inflate everything; brother would never yell at the staff. Never!"
It did not settle Elizabeth. It had the opposite effect, but she made every attempt to hide it to continue the conversation. "Has Darcy said anything - odd - to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Off. Strange."
Georgiana frowned. "I think he meant it in privacy."
"You don't have to say it, then."
"But," her sister-in-law considered, "he didn't say it was private. I just don't think he meant to be heard. That's ... fair, isn't it?" She looked to Elizabeth for approval and was nodded on. "He said he never left Austria. He said he never will." She paused before going on. "My brother has had problems all his life ... all that I've known him for - with people. You know that."
"Quite well, yes."
"Not problems, I should say. I mean, he's always dignified and he's never cross unless he has to be. He doesn't care much for people he doesn't know. Or, that's the way he put it once, a long time ago, before he met you. I think he meant he was scared. He couldn't admit it, not to me certainly, not to anyone. People he knew, he liked. Everyone else was different. I thought he was just shy and was too much of a gentleman to admit it. The master of Pemberley can't be shy. It isn't allowed." Her voice was wavering. "You don't think he's well, do you? Something rattled him Romany?" Before Elizabeth could respond, Georgiana said, "Should he see a doctor? Not Doctor Maddox, I suppose."
"No," she said. "I've ... thought of it. But I cannot bring myself to subject him to that. Besides, even Doctor Maddox's opinion of psychical doctors is poor." I'm not sending him to Bedlam, she thought. I'm not giving up what little of him I have left. "He needs to ... talk to someone."
"Then of course it should be you!" Georgiana said. "Lizzy, you are the only person I know who can alter anything in him. You do that just by being yourself. The brother I knew before he met you and the brother I know now - or, at least, six months ago - are like two different people. Believe me when I say, if anyone is to reach him, it can only be you." Something in her voice said quite clearly, as if through some psychic means, Please reach him. For all of us.
Determined to do so, Elizabeth returned to the house, went into her study, and sat down to write the hardest letter of her life.
The reply came express, given the nature of it and how much they were all obviously suffering, especially Darcy. Elizabeth followed the instructions immediately, which were simple enough.
The first person she spoke with was his manservant. Over the years, Elizabeth had spoken to Reed many times, usually about some preference of Darcy's or inquiring as to his location. She was fully aware that there were things about Darcy that Reed knew which she was not privy to. He had been at Darcy's side since he was ten and five; he had been through the occasionally-referenced, but never explained, wild years at University. He was certainly better at assembling clothing than Darcy was for himself.
Never once had she even thought of invading one of Darcy's few areas of privacy to ask Reed about personal affairs. At least when she did, she had an easier way to begin the conversation. Darcy had taken to shaving himself since his return; he was quite inept at it, often with a nick on his chin or uneven sideburns. For someone who cared deeply for the way he appeared before others, this was a radical departure from the norm, and he expressed no discontent with Reed's service to him as of late.
"Mr. Reed," she said, announcing her presence in Darcy's dressing room.
"Mrs. Darcy," Reed said, quickly bowing. "Is there something I can help you with, madam?"
"Yes. To be plain, I think you know why I am here."
Reed said nothing, but his face said everything.
"I do not believe in regularly violating my husband's privacy or his trust," she said, "but I think we will make an exception in this case."
"If he comes - "
"He's with his steward," she said quickly, "and he will be for a long time. Now, why has he suddenly taken an interest in shaving himself?"
Reed hesitated, setting aside the greatcoat that he had been getting ready to hang. "He is getting better at it."
"I noticed." She sat down, hoping that would ease the formality of the situation. "Please, Mr. Reed. For his sake."
He nodded solemnly. He thought he was betraying his master in this conversation. "Master Darcy has ... a certain disinterest in being touched. By a blade. Or a person."
She had more than noticed this, but she only nodded for him to continue.
"He dresses himself, except for his cravat, and he doesn't sit still for me to do it. I pick out the clothing, but he puts the clothing on."
"Has he ever done this before?"
"Not since he was six."
She had noticed that Darcy's clothing occasionally did not match so carefully, but she had barely noticed it because it also didn't fit well on him with the weight he had lost, very little of which had been gained back. "What else?"
"Well ... madam, I suppose you know he's been refusing all his social calls."
"Yes," she said uneasily. "The largest gathering was the shearing festival and he left early for business with his steward."
Reed looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "Madam, that is not entirely true."
"What?" She knew it to be true - he had just returned and was only half-interested, but that was expected. He left midday for some business emergency taking supper in his study and not reappearing until the end of the day, when only a few guests remained. She would not say he loved the festival, but he was proud of his lands in Derbyshire and happy to see his tenants and laborers enjoy themselves, so he was rarely absent for it.
"He did not see his steward." Reed was clearly uncomfortable revealing this. "He stayed in his study and drank tea in an armchair after he had settled down."
"Settled down?"
"Mrs. Darcy, I apologize - I should have been more insistent that he call a doctor - then at least you would have known - "Reed was an older man, not easily intimidated. He was quiet, calm, and reserved - the sort of man Darcy easily had at his side and trusted. To see him so unnerved was significant. "He said he was having trouble breathing. I tried to help him out of his coat and he nearly tossed me across the room. He recovered quickly and, madam, he did apologize so profusely. He asked for something to soothe his nerves. I went to get something from Mrs. Reynolds, but I didn't tell her whom it was for. When I returned, he had settled down, he sat quietly for the whole afternoon and said nothing."
"Did he eat dinner?"
"No, madam, he said he had lost his appetite."
"Mr. Reed," she said, "has anything like this every happened before?"
"No, Mrs. Darcy," he insisted. "Never."
"My husband is not a lover of large gatherings."
"Not every man has to love noisy crowds. It is simply in his character, always has been. Miss Darcy is also very shy, if I may say so."
"You may say so." Elizabeth thought. "Were you on staff here when he was a small boy?"
"Yes, madam. I was in charge of arranging the servants for his guests. Before that, I worked as a footman in charge of his father's carriage."
"Do you remember him ever being ill? In Town, perhaps?"
He paused. "Yes, I do remember that I was once sent to find a doctor. We did not have a doctor for the townhouse, at least for young lads. Master Darcy must have been five or six, while he was walking with his mother, he passed out. And then again in a shop. They never discovered why. Mr. Darcy - his father - was obviously very concerned and they departed Town immediately for the sake of his son's health. But - it never happened again."
If Darcy had keeled over anywhere in Pemberley someone would have seen and immediately reported it. It would have been the talk of all the servants for quite some time. That was not what she suspected happened here. "Has he said anything to you about any of these recent events?"
"No, madam, but that should not be a surprise. He is not a master to rattle away to me about his concerns." He added, "But I know he's unwell."
"How?"
"For all of the reasons we've just discussed, madam. He is very uneasy, more than he can hide. Do you think something rattled him in Austria, Mrs. Darcy?"
"That is precisely what I must discover," she answered.
Elizabeth did not go through all of the servants. Such a thing would have caused an uproar of gossip; which was the last thing she wanted. The servants had enough on their hands with a master out-of-sorts and a house that had been shut up for months. Plus there was the threat of Darcy discovering her investigation, if he hadn't already. She spoke with Mrs. Reynolds, who yielded far less than Reed, as she did not know her master on such intimate terms, but could be trusted to be discreet. Mrs. Reynolds seemed relieved that Elizabeth had noticed it (how could she not?) and seemed to be doing something about it, but ended the awkward interview with an even more awkward plea "not to send the master away." Elizabeth knew Mrs. Reynolds was not concerned with the scandal it would cause, that would taint the children and the whole household; she cared for Darcy and wanted to see him well. An asylum was not somewhere where people went to get well.
Slowly she made a list of symptoms, drawing from Doctor Maddox's suggested list from his letter. General anxiety. Irrational behavior. Trouble breathing. Anxiety in large crowds. Fear of touch. Fear of sharp objects. No desire to leave house. No interest in normal activities. And finally she forced herself to add to the list - paranoia.
What a terrible word.
With some explanations, she finally finished the list and sent it off to Town with long explanations of some of the items. She received a quick reply a few days later that extremely discreet inquiries would be made. Doctor Maddox was not a doctor of the mind, and seemed to hold the whole profession in little regard, but he knew enough of them in his service to the royal family. He also knew not to use Darcy's name because not every doctor in Britain had his high moral standards involving confidentiality.
If Darcy knew anything, he said nothing. He said little at all. He did have a lot of business to conduct, having been gone for half a year, and often spent hours with his ledgers in his study. He made it clear, without words, that anyone interrupting him - even his wife - would be regarded as an intruder. At the end of very late nights, as she stayed up waiting for him, he slipped into bed clothed and with barely more than a good night. Her enforced celibacy continued. He was often up and about when she awoke, no matter how early.
So it continued, for two unbearable weeks, until the Maddoxes came up to visit Kirkland. Darcy pleaded business to excuse himself from the call. He had not been outside Pemberley's doors in nearly a month. Elizabeth did not fight him this time and went to call on the Bingleys - and Doctor Maddox.
The months had obviously been better to the doctor, who had returned to his old pallor for the most part. He didn't look the best she had ever seen him, now minus half a finger and with grey hairs coming in at the roots where there had once been black, but he was a man who had returned to health and society. "Mrs. Darcy."
"Doctor Maddox."
He waved off the servant and closed the door before settling into a seat next to the table between them. In his hands was her letter, now a bit rumpled from use. He glanced through its several pages before putting it on the table and turning his attention to her. "Have there been any changes I should know about?"
"No."
"Well, then," he said. "I spoke to Sir Richard Gregory, former doctor of physic research at Oxford and the current head of the staff in charge of His Majesty."
"I am impressed," she said. "And grateful."
"We do cross paths on occasion," he said. "He agreed to review the case with me and studied my set of notes without the patient's identity. He is one of the few mentalists I respect as a doctor. That said, I cannot honestly say I recommend his advice."
"So he reached a diagnosis?"
"He said he could not without examining the patient. Then again, he's had half a dozen different diagnoses over the years for His Majesty. It isn't quite like looking at a wound or listening to a cough, as you can no doubt imagine. Eventually he said monomania, but that is really a diagnosis for someone whom the physician - and the family - wishes to be committed."
She knew the blow was coming and been attempting, for these weeks, to brace herself for it, even when it sent Mrs. Reynolds into tears.
"This is why I do not care much for psychical doctors," he said grimly. "If Darcy is, to be plain, not fit to reenter society then taking him away from it will not amend the situation. It will make it worse."
"Do you think he is unfit?"
"I think he's unwell." Maddox had no hesitation saying it. He never seemed to have a problem speaking with the formality of a doctor. "Consider his history. Some people are ill at ease in society. We call women shy and we expect men to bear it. Which is exactly what he did, though, for most of his life he had few friends and most of the ones he had he lost over time. However, this is not something that would generally concern me - as a physician - a year ago. He is more withdrawn than some men but that is not a great flaw in his character by any means. In fact, I have always regarded Mr. Darcy as one of the most upstanding gentlemen I have ever met. He is not cruel, he is not malicious, and he is not abusive. He does not turn his anxieties into anger. For the most part, he has managed them. Then, of course, we had Austria." Now he did lose some of his composure, if subtly so. "We tried to keep each other sane by talking about anything. We recited poetry. We told stories. We recited as much literature as we could remember. But there were long hours and there was a darkness there - metaphorical and literal - that could not be escaped. Eventually you just ... gave in."
Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth. She wanted to cry. It seemed odd that she was more upset than Doctor Maddox, who was speaking of his own experiences. "But - you are well."
"I am a different case entirely. First, I have none of his past history, including his early problems when being introduced to society and the ton. I think now, looking back, we can make the logical conclusion that all of those unfamiliar people overwhelmed our young Darcy and he fainted. It was in two public places that it happened, and you said it was his first trip to Town, a new place for any boy raised in the comforts of the country.
"Second, I have withstood loneliness and torture before. Not on that scale, but I lived alone. Many years, in poverty, in the East End, surrounded by disease and hunted by Brian's less scrupulous creditors. In a way, I was more acclimated to the circumstances." He paused. "Third, I have had troubles of my own."
She said nothing, a silent plea for him to continue, even though it would be improper for her to ask. It was so intensely personal, perhaps the most personal thing he could admit and he was not a man who readily talked about his personal life. If anything, he was more discreet than Darcy on most subjects.
Nonetheless, he did continue, "I have had trouble sleeping. I now take a concoction that was recommended to me, by the very same doctor, every night before retiring; minus some of the recommended ingredients, as I've always been more hesitant about ingesting non-food items than most doctors are ready to prescribe. It does help me get a dreamless sleep." He looked down. "I do have ... some irrational fears. Obviously it has not crippled me from general society or my occupation, but it is still something that Caroline and Brian have been helping me through." He sighed. "The chief difference between me and Darcy is the desire to return to normal life."
"What did the king's doctor recommend - beyond Bedlam?"
"Some pills that he gives the king, which I see no sense in, as they obviously don't work and the king has a completely different condition, more of a disease than something the result of trauma. The one suggestion I would actually follow is a certain tea; which mixed with certain ingredients, can be very calming. When mixed with others, it can help a person sleep. I will venture a guess that he is not sleeping well. That, at least, I think we can convince him of." He continued, "Beyond that, my own recommendation - though I am no expert of the psychic realm - is to talk to him. After all, he should not be excluded from his own treatment." Before she could respond, he said, "If you would permit me, I wish to speak with him."
"He might not take well to it."
"Maybe not. But we have at least some common ground on which to chat," he said grimly.
...Next Chapter – Out of Austria
