Part 5- 'A life of servitude…'
There were days when the head and the heart were too tired, days when Lizzy was too tired. And those were the days; those were the nights when sleep came easy. But she never dreamt, in fact she could she could not recall the last time she had dreamt since her father had died.
And she was glad for it, dreams were destructive. Those who chose to live by them and within them were idealists and idiots, for the constant comfort of a dream can never be truth. The waking up from them to cold disappointment and reality was a heartache that could only grow, until one wished to never wake up at all.
Yesterday had been one of those days, the night after the ball she had felt so tired, her head, her heart and even her limbs ached. She had gone to bed and not dreamt…it was a blessing. She had half-feared she would see Philip again, that she would be back in that stable, enduring stroke after stroke.
But a firm reminder of his cruelty yet remained, as she sat up her back ached. She would have to ask Sarah to make up some sort of salve. And then another feeling suddenly arrested, a sudden feeling of nausea overcame her and instinctively her hand flew to her stomach. Oh God no…She had heard how women had feelings of sickness when they were with child.
She breathed deep in an effort to calm herself and thought rationally. She could not be with child, though medically it was too soon to know, Lizzy was certain. There had been six years of this marriage, and she had not borne a child. Nor was she ever likely to, it seemed her body rejected Philip as much and as resolutely as her heart did. There could not be a child; no other creature ought to be inflicted to this misery, and she could never love a child of Philip's; no motherly sense would ever help her overcome the repulsion.
He had children of course, she did not doubt the fact that he had an illegitimate brood of bastards littering the country, and no doubt as many mistresses. But he would never be the father of her child.
'I am glad the evening passed more than pleasantly for you Jane…' Elizabeth linked arms with her sister and smiled at her warmly. They had decided to take a morning walk into the village. The characteristic nods of heads from the villagers were countered by equally characteristic sympathetic glances.
'Mr Bingley is an able dancer, and no doubt a delightful conversationalist as well?' Lizzy teased her and watched with some amusement as Jane blushed adorably.
'Yes, he is,' Jane smiled widely. 'I thought I saw you talking at some length to his friend, Mr Darcy…given what I have heard of his political views his conversation should have been far from dull?'
Lizzy nodded a look of puzzlement crossed her face, 'the conversation was lively enough, though I think I may have offended Mr Bingley's friend somehow, surely you noted the cold manner in our parting…?'
'Yes that was strange, but it does not mean he is disagreeable, perhaps it is only because he is withdrawn. Bingley confided in me that after the Darcy family tragedy, Mr Darcy has done little to assert himself in the public eye. He takes careful steps to avoid dances and balls…' Jane defended Mr Darcy admirably. She knew as little about him as Lizzy did, but Jane with her fond heart was inclined to think well of everybody. Though that belief in the goodness of humanity had sorely been tested by Lord Hartfield, of him there was no reason to think well.
'I wonder then he attended last night. His withdrawal from the world as you put it has been having a detrimental affect on his sister. Did you manage to tear yourself far away from Mr Bingley long enough to talk to her…?
'Yes…' Jane nodded her head defiantly, 'I talked to a great many people Lizzy. It will not do that you think I am forever occupied with Mr Bingley…' his name caused Jane to pause mid-sentence in pleasant thoughts, Lizzy waited patiently for her sister to return from her day-dreaming, and vainly concealed an effort to laugh out loud.
Jane shook her head at last, and recalling what they had speaking of she blushed the deepest shade of red. Lizzy looking at her with a raised eyebrow and comical expression did nothing to help Jane regain her composure.
'Georgiana,…' she began again, 'is a charming girl, her mixture of elegance and innocence is truly disarming.'
Lizzy agreed, 'But she is so painfully shy, even more so than you. She must be careful; her lack of conversation will be interpreted as haughtiness rather than a reserved nature…'
'Perhaps we may call on her?' Jane suggested. Lizzy was inclined to agree; only she was not sure if she wished to risk seeing or speaking to Mr Darcy again. His cold manner in dismissing her had riled her, more than she cared to admit.
'Jane, stop here…' they were stood outside a milliners, 'I have seen some bonnets here that I think will do perfectly for Kitty and Lydia. If I buy them one each it may stop them squabbling and give all of you some peace and quiet…'
They stepped inside the shop, and were at once accosted by two fashionably dressed ladies who were looking at and disdainfully dismissing some trimmings. If Lizzy was unsure of her regard towards to Mr Bingley, she was more than sure of her sentiments regarding his sister's Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst. The ladies both had a duplicitous nature, Caroline Bingley perhaps more than Mrs Hurst.
The latter was in truth, remarkably dull. Her only interesting point was that she had married a man with more wealth than sense, and now found herself bound to a gentleman who could claim no higher attribute than being an abrasive drunk. Mr Hurst's drunkenness Lizzy could very well abide, but he had of late sought to make gross, crude overtures towards her. He would however by no means attempt to lay a finger on her, the surety of Lord Hartfield killing him if he ever did saw to that.
Caroline Bingley sought to climb above her station. Lizzy had no doubt that had she been merely Elizabeth Bennet and not Lady Hartfield, Miss Bingley would not have been willing to spare her the time of day.
As it was Caroline courted Lizzy's good opinion assiduously and often painfully transparently, she encouraged Mr Bingley's attentions towards Jane, purely for the knowledge that a marriage between them would ensure a connection to the Hartsfield's.
And Caroline Bingley had had relations…intimate relations with Lizzy's husband. Barely within a week of their arrival in the neighbourhood, Lord Hartfield had flattered Miss Bingley out of her honour and into his bed. Caroline no doubt lived safe in the knowledge that Lizzy was ignorant of the whole affair, but Lizzy knew. Philip had taken great pleasure in informing her.
Both Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley hurried up to them before Lizzy could back quietly out of the door and make her escape unnoticed. They bowed low, and Lizzy maintained every effort to smile.
'Lady Hartfield, Jane…how wonderful it is to meet you here. For we were on our way to call on you, your Ladyship…' Caroline spoke in one rush of breath.
'Well it is very well then that we have met here and saved you a journey.' Lizzy spoke with a pointed ness that was entirely lost on the sisters. Jane looked at her reproachfully.
'We wanted to say how wonderful the dance was, and to offer our humblest apologies to your Ladyship for the actions and behaviour of one our party.'
Lizzy smiled mischievously, 'and this offender, may I assume they are making up the numbers of one of your party today?'
Caroline Bingley looked towards her sister more than a little confused, 'No, they are not…'
'Then I wonder that you take the trouble to apologise on their behalf, if it did not behove them to do so personally, I must ask if they thought such an apology at all necessary.' Lizzy moved past them and absent minded picked up a ribbon.
Lizzy could very well have ordered all her bonnets individually crafted from London and in all the latest styles, but Lizzy infinitely preferred Mrs Peabody's little shop. She had shopped here as a young girl and Mrs Peabody had always been remarkably kind; the old lady was deft at her trade and would make up any style that Lizzy desired. She could well afford to, Lady Hartfield's endorsement was a boost to her trade.
Caroline and Mrs Hurst appeared almost at once by her side. They smiled and cooed pathetically.
'We assure you, your Ladyship it was most certainly not our desire that Mr Darcy make up the numbers of our party last night, but our brother insisted.' Miss Bingley's voice took on a bitter tone. 'My brother is prodigiously kind, but I wonder at the lengths he will go to accommodate people. Georgiana Darcy is delightful, but her brother, aside from his political views, the frog-lover that he is…'
Lizzy was shocked that Miss Bingley could be so cold and disdainful about a childhood friend. Had Mr Darcy been wealthy still, Caroline would no doubt have an altogether different view on her brother's houseguest.
Mrs Hurst, no doubt the more compassionate of the two offered some defence for Mr Darcy. 'Be kind Caroline, you know our father thought very well of Mr Darcy's father, they did much business together and father thought old Mr Darcy a very good sort of man…'
'And no doubt he kept a very good sort of shop!' Both sisters laughed at this apparent display of wit. But Lizzy growing more outraged by the minute resolved to speak calmly. She turned to face Caroline.
'Before you condemn Mr Darcy for his connections and the occupation of his late father, perhaps it would do you well ladies to remember that your own father was in trade, which I have always thought to be only one step up from a shop. I believe much of your current wealth is owed to that method of business.' Lizzy moved past them once more, making the point of leaving.
'Good day to you ladies, and be so kind as to tell Miss Darcy that my sister Jane and I would be honoured to call on her during the course of the day…' She pushed past them both and made her way to Jane who was still stood by the door, but not before turning to offer them one more remark.
'That is of course if you ladies would find me a more welcome guest than Mr Darcy?' She tilted her head to one side apparently seeking an answer.
The sisters pressed forward once more, Caroline nodded profusely, 'Of course…of course your Ladyship, you are most welcome and at anytime.'
Both Lizzy and Jane were thinking of the encounter in the shop with some mirth, when arrival at Hartfield soon put away any pleasant thoughts. Lizzy had managed to persuade Jane to take some refreshment, her sister had agreed but on the strict condition that they wouldn't have to spend time in the company of Philip.
Lizzy had never offered reassurances as gladly received as they were given.
But something in the house was different; Lizzy noticed it almost at once. The way the servants were stood about, shifting nervously. There was no Sarah; Lizzy's heart sank, had Philip managed to corner the poor girl again?
'Where is his Lordship?' she demanded of his valet, 'What are you all doing here, crowded around like this?' The man pointed to the far end of the house, towards Philips study.
Lizzy followed the direction blindly, not caring to remover her walking coat or scarf. She only removed her bonnet; and dropped it on the floor as she went. Lizzy could not in her wildest imagination have foreseen the spectacle in front of her. The door was ajar, and she saw Philip stood at his desk, held at bay by a young man brandishing a large knife.
She recognised the boy immediately, Sarah's sweetheart, David. She stepped into the room; just as a gasp rose up from behind her. Lizzy turned to look, she had forgotten about poor Jane. Dear, feeling Jane who had never seen such a menacing, encroaching display of violence was dumb struck. She vainly and instinctively reached out to pull Elizabeth out of harms way, but Lizzy pushed her back.
'Please Jane, you must stay out here, please…' and gently pushing her sister out of the doorway she closed the door with some firmness.
It was then she noted Sarah, she was sat hunched in the corner of the room against a bookcase. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her face was buried in her arms. She refused to look; the terror stricken girl was shaking.
Lizzy having once ascertained that she was not physically harmed, turned to her husband and his adversary.
'My Lord…' she began carefully, David was clearly apoplectic with rage, and the slightest move would have sent him into a frenzied attack. 'My Lord, why have you not consulted the assistance of the servants?'
Lord Hartfield laughed, an ugly sound that sent Sarah whimpering, 'against this whelp of a boy…I shouldn't think so my lady…' She noticed Philip's hands twitching at his desk drawer.
Approaching David carefully, she smiled gently at him and noted the way he stiffened at Philip's words. 'My Lord do you think it wise to provoke the boy…?'
Lord Hartfield didn't care to make a reply. 'David?' Lizzy called out to him gently, they were in a precarious position. The knife was a formidable looking weapon, clearly one stolen from the kitchen. Lizzy was only a few feet away from them, David had the vantage over all three, he had merely to launch himself at a Lord Hartfield or Lizzy with devastating affect.
She spoke deliberately low and placed herself between the knife and her husband. David blinked; it seemed he had only now noted her presence. The poor boy was shaking in a blind rage. His jaw was set hard, and it pained Lizzy to see the tell tale signs of bitter tears in his eyes.
'He hurt Sarah, I was going to marry her…and now I can't even look at her. He's ruined everything…he touched her…' David's voice choked and he stiffened his arm again holding the knife tightly for all his worth.
Lizzy spoke calmly, 'David? Look at me...' she demanded, her voice was clear and resolute, 'never mind him.….' She referred to Philip. Risking it all, she reached out and took David's chin in her hand. She turned his attention on herself.
'Look at me.' She commanded once more, this time David obeyed. 'I promise you, I swear to you Lord Hartfield did not hurt Sarah in the way you have imagined. I would never allow him to do so, you know that' her voice at once was both soothing and firm, 'you do trust me don't you David…? I swear to you, I would take it upon myself rather than let her suffer an inch…' he nodded meekly.
The way she spoke convinced David that she had done as she promised, she had taken it upon herself. His eyes welled up once more and he dropped his arm. The knife hung limply by his side, and he turned to leave.
Lizzy breathed a huge sigh of relief; she gave her husband a look of reproach. He stood unmoved and unremorseful. What took place next happened in such a blinding haste, Lizzy found it hard to believe hours afterwards.
David had only made a show of leaving, as soon as he perceived their inattention he turned back and with a blood curdling war cry launched himself at Lord Hartfield once more.
'Philip!' Lizzy cried out a warning, her voice projected itself almost before she could understand what was happening. But Lord Hartfield was ready, his fingers had been twitching above the desk drawer for a weapon of his own, a loaded pistol with which he now took careful and steady aim at David.
Lizzy watched in horror as the boy's chest exploded in an awful haze of blood and smoke. Somebody screamed, at first she thought the sound had come from her, but it was Jane, Jane was stood just inside the open door. Stupid, stupid Lizzy not to have locked it.
Her horror grew when she perceived Jane to be splattered head to foot in blood, for one terrible moment she thought it was Jane who had been hit. But her sister was not covered in her own blood, it was David's.; Jane promptly fainted.
Poor, stupid David…foolish, foolish boy; Lizzy hurried over to him, he was gasping for breath. He seemed acutely aware of his impending doom, and in those desperate moments when life teeters in between, imbalanced and losing to the cold spectre of death, he reached up and extended a desperate hand to Lizzy. It is the loneliness we fear, in life as in death.
She dropped to her knees next to him. Removing her scarf, she pressed it to his gaping wound desperately trying to stem the loss of blood. He tilted his head towards her, and she could see the tears flow freely now. Lizzy began to cry herself, she took the hand he offered her and kissed it gently. A faint trickle of blood gurgled out of his mouth and fell down the side of his face.
And then he was gone.
Sarah had moved from her place at last, and approached David slowly. Lizzy looked up as she stood over his body. Sarah would not look at her; she sat down next to the body of the man she loved and rocked herself gently.
Lizzy stood up unsteadily; she pressed a bloody hand to her face, oblivious to the sticky liquid. She moved slowly to the door, and stepping out of the study stood in the hallway. She eyed each servant accusing them in turn, some of the maids screamed when they saw her covered in blood.
She made her way through the crowd, 'We will need to send for a doctor.…'
Jane recovered from her faintness, burnt feathers held under her nose saw to that. But nothing could shake from her the horror of what she had witnessed. She refused to spend the night at Hartfield to further recuperate and insisted on returning home as soon as the doctor had checked her.
She equally did not insist on Elizabeth returning with her, and Lizzy could interpret it almost at once. Jane wanted to be far away from Hartfield, far away from Philip and no doubt far away from Lizzy. If she was to recover from the shock, Jane had to distance herself from all the brutality associated with it, and all those who had a hand in David's death.
Her life had been eternally one of servitude; it was a sense of duty that had rendered her Lord Hartfield's wife. A sense of duty to a devastated mother and a dead father, and it was a sense of duty that had made her come between David's knife and her husband.
In the eyes of God and more pressingly in the eyes of the law she was married, and it was the sense of duty to that will that had made her call out Philip's name to warn him. For the will stipulated that Lizzy would receive nothing if her husband died in anything other than natural circumstances. Being knifed in a frenzied attack by a crazed young man was by no means a natural circumstance. She had come too far, and sacrificed too much to have allowed David destroying it. If he had succeeded he would have ruined everything, and all that she would have endured over the years would have been wasted, it would have been for nothing.
All these musings, late that night as Lizzy sat on her bed, were in an effort to quieten and allay her sense of guilt. She wished vainly to be able to do what Jane had done, to be able to seek the comfort of a family home and distance her self from the part she had played in a young man's death.
She looked away as Lord Hartfield entered her room carrying a tray with a glass of wine. He set the tray on her dressing room table, and carried the glass over to her. He sat down next to her, and held out the wine.
'Drink this, it will help you sleep.' He spoke in low measured tones. Lizzy took the glass and sipped it slowly. Though she would have liked nothing more than to refuse by spilling the contents over his head, Lizzy saw the sense in taking the liquor; she doubted she would sleep at all otherwise. Or worse that she would dream.
'Do you know my dear,' he leaned in close and spoke gently in her ear, 'I feel there has been a significant thaw in our relations, for I doubt you would have warned me had you still been so indifferent.' He nuzzled her neck, and she felt sickened by his touch.
She moved back and smiled coldly at him, 'You may rest assured my Lord, my only reasons for wishing to prolong your life were wholly and purely mercenary…'
He knew her to be alluding to the will, but he did not seem as affected by these words as she had hoped he would be, rather it seemed as if he was not listening, and that he had convinced himself otherwise.
And then she did not care anymore, her eyes began to droop heavily, she could not focus, and she suddenly felt remarkably tired. Her limbs felt as if they were weighted and her breathing began to slow…
Lord Hartfield took the glass from her just before she fell back onto her bed, unconscious. This was not the first time he had used laudanum for a desired effect, and as he positioned her more carefully on the bed so that she would be more comfortable in the night, he spied the pillow lying on the other side of her.
He took it in his hands and studied it closely; he looked down at Lizzy again, and recalled her words of only a few minutes before, 'Wholly and purely mercenary…' she had said. He looked at the pillow once more and tightened it within his grip, his jaw stiff and his eyes narrowed….