Chapter 17

Those tears she had refused to shed for so many years would not stop falling. Unfortunately, her tactic of thinking pleasant thoughts of the waterfall and the grove of bluebells up the hill was only adding to her suffering. And then, there was the uncontrollable shaking she had to contend with. It had started as a slight shiver during their kiss. Next the sensation grew to a tumultuous twitching and trembling traveling from the top of her head to her toes with a lovely lingering between her legs. Now it had become an uncontrollable eruption of sinews, muscles, tendons and nerves reacting, she believed, to the loss of his lips and arms. She knew she had become a spectacle for both guests leaving, and servants carrying out their duties. Where was her handkerchief so she could look dainty in her grief? She was not even able to staunch the flow with her gloves because she had come outside without them. It had been so important he feel the touch of her bare hand on his skin. She had done everything wrong!

Her mind shifted to consider other things. She now knew who kissed her in Vauxhall Gardens. Her body begged her to believe Fitzwilliam truly loved her, but her mind was dubious. Still, the unleashed passion of his lips and tongue told her he probably had felt something for quite some time. That thought quelled the shaking and brought back the shiver.

Despite her display of improper decoroum as the new Misstress of Pemberley, she forced herself to reenter the house. Mrs Reynolds was waiting for her. She displayed no disapproval of the cosmic consequences of Elizabeth's collapse into crisis. She simply said in a comforting tone, "Let me show you to your rooms. Would you like some tea or perhaps a bath?"

Within minutes of her arrival at her apartment, a young maid named Lily arrived with tea. Soon hot water was brought, and she was helped into a very generous copper tub of delightful smelling water. Her new personal maid knew precisely the right things to do to calm her. She was even more accomplished in those tasks than Jane was. Most importantly, there was no hint of any reproach for her mistress's public display of emotional chaos.

Once all needed ministrations were complete, she was left alone to ponder the events of the day and most importantly the meaning of both his kisses. He had left her believing he felt something much beyond duty. And yet, it had never been evident in his look, nor had he ever said words that expressed the depth of his feelings. There had never even been a hint that he had been her mysterious kisser. Why had he not told her?

The flood of conflicting emotions threatened to overcome her again. She moved to the window in an attempt to distract herself from the question. The view was without artifice, just as she had expressed to the stranger in Vauxhall was her preference. Fitzwilliam's grounds did not in any way defy nature's unspoiled beauty. This realization led her to consider his memory of the things she had told him that evening—her love of walking, interest in China, and mountain climbing goaded her to recall his mysterious knowledge of the dreams she had revealed that day. Her desire to attend a private ball, that one he had only this morning told her he knew. Esther was correct, he was beyond thoughtful with his attempt to please her. So once again she came to why had he not told her. Had he thought her indifferent. She had been trying all day to let him know her feelings with her accidental touches and lingering looks of love.

She moved to the bed and sat propped up on the pillows in order to best view her surroundings. Even with so little time, he had managed to request things be put in the room he believed she would enjoy. There was a stack of books on the writing table for her to explore. The bouquet she had carried when they said their vows was on another table in a lovely vase. Lily had left a plate of Madeleines for her to nibble, and then there were those beautiful new slippers with the initials 'ED' tucked beside the bed. He wanted her to be prepared in case she felt the need to explore his magnificent library during the middle of the night. That act of kindness caused her to smile and stroke her lips. Her father had never done anything so caring for her mother that she knew.

His misgivings about marrying someone like her was obviously with him when he visited Mr Bingley. Those stares and looks of disapproval were proof of his lack of certainty, but he must have remembered her mentioning Meryton and dancing at an assembly. His asking Papa for an introduction to his daughters was surely an effort to find the one he had kissed. Why he did so was a mystery, though. She prefered to believe at the very least he had been concerned with her wellbeing. He seems to have remembered practically every word I said that night. Surely that means something.

She rose from the bed and walked to the table with the books he had left. She saw they included The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling and Moll Flanders. She remembered telling Fitzwilliam on the drive back from Tompkin's Peak of her father's refusal to let her have access to those two novels even though she had been allowed to read other titles by Fielding and Dafoe. He had included a copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets and a volume she had believed she would never manage to peruse because it was so rare, William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience. Finally, he had included a lovely illustrated copy of Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy or Divina Comedia in Italian. Her husband was better than anyone she had ever known when it came to paying attention to what she said. She needed to learn to be as observant.

She returned to her bed with Blake's book. His poems and illustrations were alternately calming and agonizing. Within a short time of reading his words and pondering his pictures, Elizabeth fell into a slumber.

Darcy and Mr Wright made their way to Ashcroft Abbey with as much speed as possible without endangering themselves or their horses. Mr Brown had made certain when he realized he was disrupting a wedding breakfast to inform both grooms that the injury suffered by Lord Smallwood was dire. Still, he had been evasive about how the wound had happened or even what part of Bertie's body was involved. There seemed to be something of an unsavory nature to how, why and where it had happened. He was of the opinion Sir Arthur was being protected by his steward.

The Master of Ashcroft Abbey was not present to greet them upon arrival. Instead, they were greeted by his steward. Mr Darcy asked him if he knew where Lord Smallwood was. He received a solemn nod and they preceded to the room where his cousin was. Before entering he sent the two men to find the owner of the estate. It was made certain both understood how important it was he not be allowed to leave until Darcy had a chance to talk with him. Mr Wright ensured him his wishes would be carried out.

Bertie lay on a bed with rumpled dingy linens. He gave his cousin a weak smile as he entered the room. "Bless you Fitz, thank you for coming. I am in bad shape."

There was another man by Bertie's bedside. Darcy was quite certain it was not Sir Arthur, but he did not believe he was a servant either. He extended his hand to greet him. "I am Mr Darcy of Pemberley, Lord Smallwood's cousin."

I am Mr John Hightower, the local surgeon. I have been attempting to make Lord Smallwood comfortable. He has a worrisome wound in his groin. I fear infection, possibly he could be developing Lockjaw. It is my opinion his right testicle should be removed."

Darcy was unable to keep the horror at the nature of his cousin's circumstances from registering on his face. He looked directly at Bertie. "How did this happen?"

"Sir Arthur and I were drunk, and we decided to have a sword fight."

"That hardly seems to be the full story. What prompted you to decide on such a childish action?"

"We gambled. I won, and he could not pay" Bertie struggled to swallow and he seemed to have difficulty speaking. "He accused me of cheating. It seemed the best solution to settle our differences at the time." He lapsed into silence for a few seconds. "He had foils… at least I think they were… from when he learned to fence years ago."

Darcy suddenly became aware of the need to perhaps keep the details of their foolish act quiet. "Mr Hightower, would you leave us for a few minutes while I have a private conversation with Lord Smallwood.? May I give him some water?"

"Yes, give him as much water as he can swallow. I will be right outside if you need me."

Once he was gone, Fitzwilliam gave his cousin a drink and then drew up a chair so they would not be overheard. "Bertie, why a duel?"

"We were both foxed. He has become in quite desperate financial straits. He thought he could force me to give him money so he would not have to lease this estate. He had been approached, he said."

Darcy chose not to reveal his interest in Ashcroft Abbey and definitely not his reason why yet. Instead, he said, "your brother and I were married this morning."

"Congratulations to both of you. Is Richard's bride wealthy?"

"No, she has a very small dowry. I married her sister, who is penniless except for owning the Lambton bookshop."

"How curious. Both of your choices amaze me."

"i agree. My journey toward loving Elizabeth has been one filled with a clearer understanding of the important things in life."

"Is Richard's bride reminiscent of those ladies in the paintings we saw in Florence?"

Darcy's face expressed surprise. "Yes, I am amazed you remember. He was so taken by the one of Venus being born, as well as the other by the same artist depicting Spring."

"Yes, Fitz, the one where she was rising out of a shell, naked, with her beautiful hair covering her private parts." He coughed with the pain from speaking but seemed intent on saying something more about their time in Florence. "All the ladies in both those paintings were beautiful. For years, Richard insisted he intended to marry a lady who looked like any of those lovelies."

"He was successful. Mrs Fitzwilliam is both as beautiful and angelically benevolent looking as that painting of Venus."

"Speaking of wives, have you any knowledge of my Cassie?"

"She was frantic with your disappearance. We brought her to Pemberley. Richard has taken her to Matlock. He is telling your father that you have been injured."

I had hoped to conceal this…" He pointed to his groin with a grimace. "From my father."

All the talk of their wedding had caused Darcy's thoughts to drift toward remembering what was waiting for him at Pemberley. He needed to understand why he was here and not the earl. "Bertie what do you want from me?"

"I want you to go to Derby and bring back that fancy physician from the Royal College of something or other you had care for your father." His pause this time seemed to be more about fear of what he was facing rather than physical difficulty. "I do not want to lose my right bollock if there is another way. What is the name of the man I am talking about?"

"Sir Alistair Throckmorton. You do realize it is my wedding night?"

"Please Fitz. My father is not a compassionate man. He will only berate me for gambling and accuse me of damaging his reputation. I would have asked Richard to help me, but I did not know where he was. My best hope was you had returned to Pemberley from Kent."

"Isabelle is with child. You are probably correct that your wellbeing will not be topmost on his mind."

"I pity my new brother or sister. Their birth will merely prove to the ton that the Earl of Matlock is still a most potent gentleman. I know he could care less whether Richard dies in this war. He sees his second son's service in the military simply as something he is able to brag about in the House of Lords."

Darcy was a compassionate man who feared for Bertie's life. Yes, his cousin was a wastrel, but his words of a father who felt little love for his children was true. Both Fitzwilliam brothers had been truly disgusted by Lord Matlock's marriage to Isabelle. He would forego his wedding night to travel to Derby.

He did not have time to arrive in Derby before nightfall. It would be best to begin his journey at first light. In the meantime, he would begin his discussion with Sir Arthur, but before that business, he must communicate with Elizabeth. Who knew what she was thinking about him. Bertie had mercifully fallen asleep. He called Mr Hightower in.

"Tomorrow at dawn I plan to ride to Derby to fetch Sir Alistair Throckmorton. Do you know of him?

"Yes, he participated in a conference I attended on surgical practices during war. My apprenticeship was served in the military. It is but a year since I resigned with the rank of captain. Most of my last years were spent in Portugal and Spain."

"Lord Smallwood's brother, Colonel Fitzwilliam, just recently left the military. He too had been in Portugal before he was wounded last summer".

"Perhaps I have met him. Mr Darcy, I greatly admire Sir Alistair. His opinion would be welcomed by me. If I had been something other than a butcher's son, I would have chosen to study at Oxford or Cambridge and joined the RCP."

"My cousin feels grateful to the surgeon who treated him on the battlefield. I will leave at dawn for Derby. Colonel Fitzwilliam should arrive shortly after I am gone. Will you still be here?"

"Yes, as I told you, I fear Lord Smallwood could be suffering from Lockjaw. All my observations of his symptons will be recorded for Sir Alistair to look over when he arrives."

"You have given me confidence I leave my cousin in good hands. Would you be opposed to me having some servants from Pemberley to bring clean linens and other such things to make Lord Smallwood more comfortable?"

"No, the accommodations here leave much to be desired. Would you mind if I made a list of things I believe would be helpful?"

"That would be very helpful."

He left Bertie in the hands of the surgeon and went in search of Mr Wright. He was found with Mr Brown in the main hall of Ashcroft Abbey. Sir Arthur Dugdale was asleep on a settee before the fire. According to his steward he had been drinking heavily.

Darcy asked for a quill, ink and paper. He had three letters to write. It was obvious he would not be able to make it back for his wedding night. His words of explanation to Elizabeth needed to be impeccably expressed. He would save that letter for last as it was the most important.

His cousin should be returning to Pemberley from Matlock soon. He must be communicated with as well. It was only right that at least one of them should be allowed to spend the night with their bride. However, it would be necessary to stress that the situation was life threatening and Richard needed to be here as soon as he was able tomorrow morning.

Sir Arthur Dugdale needed to be made to see reason. He would wake him once he had written his communications. He must be made to listen to reason. This wastrel of a baronet had wounded a viscount, the son of an earl, a peer of the realm, in an illegal drunken duel. Darcy refused to leave him unguarded until he agreed to sign a lease agreement in exchange for enough money to leave the country.

His instructions for Mr Wright and Mrs Reynolds could see to the many things needed to ensure Elizabeth's comfort, the improvement in Bertie's conditions here at Ashcroft Abbey, and the preparations needed to accomplish the lease agreement he planned to present to Sir Arthur.

While the man who had impaled his cousin with a filthy foil slept off his drunken stupor, Darcy began to write his letters.

Elizabeth woke to the sound of knocking. There was confusion about time and place for a moment, but her circumstances quickly became obvious. She bid whoever it was to enter.

A glance toward the window told her it was nearly dusk and the room was dark. Mrs Reynolds entered with Lily. The housekeeper went about the room lighting candles. Her young maid put a tray of food down on one of the tables and left the room once her task was done.

"Did you sleep, Mrs Darcy?"

"I did. I feel much better than when I saw you last. Have you heard anything from Mr Darcy about how his cousin is doing?"

"There is a letter from him to you on the tray. Mr Wright brought it with other correspondence about what he found and what needs to be done at Ashcroft Abbey. Lord Smallwood's wound is more dangerous than expected. The master is unable to return tonight."

Elizabeth refused to allow her face to show disappoint. Instead, she dutifully expressed concern. "How dreadful for his Lordship."

"Yes, I am certain Mr Darcy's letter will explain much of what he encountered. Mr Wright and Colonel Fitzwilliam will be joining him tomorrow morning. They will be able to take any letter from you to him if you so desire. There are quills, paper and ink in the escritoire by the window."

"Thank you. You have been so kind to me."

"Please ring if you need anything."

"I will."

Mrs Reynolds left and Elizabeth went to the table. Before reading his letter, she lifted the cover to peek at the food. Once again, she was taken aback by how much he had paid attention to her likes. Her dinner was without pretense, a bit of roast chicken, peas, and little potatoes. The vegetables looked as though they had been harvested mere hours ago. There was some bread and butter and a dish of strawberries and cream as well. It was delightfully simple and beautifully prepared.

She took his letter to the comfortable chair by the fireplace to read.

Dearest Elizabeth,

My cousin's wound is life threatening. He has requested I journey to Derby to bring a renowned physician who treated my father to see him. I will depart at dawn. He will be left in the care of a very competent surgeon, who fears Bertie might be suffering from Lockjaw. The owner of Ashcroft Abbey, Sir Arthur Dugdale is responsible for his injury. The circumstance of its infliction was highly irregular. He must be held accountable. I will tell you all when we are together again.

I will probably be away for several days. Mrs Reynolds will see to all your needs. She can arrange transportation for you so you may spend time saying goodbye to your friends, Esther, James and Mrs Swift before they leave for Dublin. Ensure all is well with the bookshop and Iphigenia. If you walk up the hill to the waterfall, think of me. I promise I will return as soon as possible.

Once again duty has ruined my best laid plans for our felicity. It was my intention to spend the afternoon showing the library to you. I also had great expectations for our wedding night though I was apprehensive about something I must tell you about my past. Hopefully, my confession and our time together will not be delayed long.

Your kiss as we parted gave me hope you too experience similar feelings as my own. You awaken in me a passionate longing for something more.

Loving you is truly a dream come true.

Fitzwilliam