Clouds Over Pemberley

by Walter Oleksy

  “I have no idea,” her sister replied.

  Elizabeth ventured to ask their tour guides. “Who is being referred to when it is said ‘The Greeks have a word for them?’”

  Tony replied with a small smile. “Gold diggers. Women who entice money out of rich men.”

  Maria added, “Also, they are called ladies of the evening.”

  Oh, thought Elizabeth. But they were just working girls, their employment being to lead gentlemen into temptation. Into their second week in Athens, Tony, without his sister, showed them yet another ruined temple, this one where ancient Greeks rested their feet. Elizabeth thought that would be of special interest to her.

  The guide then spoke of an issue he had not previously discoursed with the Darcy’s. Uncharacteristic concern came on to Tony’s normally congenial and innocent-looking face.

  The Darcy’s sensed that their tour guide had an important private, perhaps personal, matter to confide in them.

  Tony whispered to them, “I am in dire need of some drachmas, because of an urgent matter.”

  Mr. Darcy thought the sum he asked for, as a loan, was rather high.

  “May I inquire as to its need?” He also doubted the loan would ever be repaid. Looking around them with caution, Tony whispered, “I have sworn allegiance to a small group of patriots. We endeavor to create sabotage disturbances that will, we hope, lead to driving the Turkish invaders out of our country. But we are in need of funds to have pamphlets printed regarding our cause and efforts.”

  Elizabeth became fearful, but Mr. Darcy, she was surprised to see, seemed to take the request for money as exciting. Perchance he had grown weary with sight-seeing, as she had, and required more stimulating occupation. She could think of at least one she would prefer.

  “You are engaged in the beginnings of a revolution?” Mr. Darcy asked the lad. Tony put a finger to his own lips. “We must be very cautious not to be overheard or even be seen looking as if we are discussing matters other than historic or dining. We have been constantly watched.”

  “The young people Mrs. Darcy and I have seen you with?”

  “No, they are part of our group of patriots. Others have been watching us. Most likely Turks.”

  “Have you put my wife and me in danger?”

  “No, sir. I am sure I have not.”

  “Your sister is among the patriots?”

  “Only by association with me.”

  Asked Elizabeth, “And Mr. Darcy and I are in danger by association with you?” “I sincerely doubt it. We are known to be tour guides and never have any of our clients been so much as questioned by the Turks, or Greeks loyal to them. Those are mainly wealthy merchants who profit by engaging in commerce with our occupiers.”

  Mr. Darcy said he would give Tony the drachmas he requested, but in private back at their inn, so as not to be seen giving it him on the street.

  “You will be aiding a noble cause,” Tony assured Mr. Darcy, thanking him.

  “I shall hope that we will not regret it, and that the loan be as far as my wife and I become involved.” Yet, he did feel excited.

  Later that afternoon, Elizabeth felt like she was about to faint.

  Said Mr. Darcy, holding her, “Its become an especially hot afternoon. You may have gotten too much of the sun.”

  Elizabeth decided that he was right because she had forgotten her bonnet and left it at the inn before they left sightseeing that morning.

  “I think it best if I take you to a hospital.” Mr. Darcy took Elizabeth by cab to a nearby hospital where she was examined and a doctor said she had apparently suffered minor sunstroke. He recommended she rest in bed and remain overnight for further examination, and both she and Mr. Darcy agreed.

  Elizabeth continued to feel unwell but was pleased and reassured by the almost constant company of Mr. Darcy as he remained by her bedside throughout the afternoon and evening. What a comfort he was. He only left her on occasion to get a cup of refreshing tea in the hospital café. And he took special pains to be kind to her nurse so that she might get extra care.

  Elizabeth liked her nurse, considering her to be a very competent caretaker, as well as being very pretty. She was of the opinion that her attending doctor was also quite favorable-looking, a tall, dark-haired, well-constructed young man, she could see when he took off his white coat. It was a warm day and he was shirtless under the surgical coat. Elizabeth admired his chest. He is another Greek god, she thought.

  She also thought that the doctor had been very attentive examining her. She had only been examined once before and the doctor in Meryton had not been nearly as thorough, this Greek medic checking her lungs and other more personal parts of her anatomy while Mr. Darcy was gone, having tea in the café that her nurse also frequented. He has been drinking an inordinate number of cups of tea, she decided.

  The following day, Elizabeth was released from the hospital. As she and Darcy stood outside their inn awaiting the arrival of their tour guides to show them more of the city, they saw Tony approaching, but without his sister.

  A cab stopped momentarily behind him. Two men with dark faces and thick black beards, wearing black robes and white turbans, leaped out at him. One covered Tony’s mouth from behind while the other dragged him into the cab and drove off with him.

  Later that day, the Darcy’s received a note from Maria that they read in the privacy of their suite of rooms at the inn. Mr. Darcy read it aloud to Elizabeth, who listened with grave concern for their guide.

  “My brother, who is not my brother but my husband, has been abducted by the Moors and taken I do not know where. They found him in possession of leaflets they interpreted as encouraging revolution. Such abductions can lead to the execution of those considered to be liberating patriots. I worry gravely about my husband’s safety, but also of my own.

  “I shall not return to guide you in the city anymore, nor do I expect my husband to do so. I ask you to pray for his safety, as well as my own. I do not anticipate either of us will see you again, and regret that my husband will be unable to pay you for the money you so kindly loaned him. Farewell, and peace and freedom be with you both.”

  The Darcy’s noted that Maria did not sign the note, but had added a postscript: “For your own safety, please destroy this note by fire. It will not self-destruct.” Mr. Darcy immediately lit a match to the note and deposited the charred remnants in a metal refuse container in their apartment.

  “We should leave Athens at once,” he said.

  “And return to England and Pemberley?” “I will not let even an attempted revolution shorten our honeymoon. We cannot leave Athens without first seeing a Greek play. Posters announce a seldomperformed tragedy believed to be written by Euripides. Its English translation is Temptation of the Flesh. Its final performance is tonight.”

  “By all means,” said Elizabeth, “let us attend.”

  They dined and wined and in early evening then went to the outdoor amphitheater where they made a French connection. They took seats on a bench next to a middle-aged couple from Paris who spoke English and were escaping the war chaos there. The husband introduced them as Pierre and Josephine Napoleono.

  “No relation,” he said, replying to the Darcy’s wonder.

  They learned from Mr. Napoleono more about the play before it began. “Euripides was known for authoring plays about feelings, frequently about insecure people troubled by inner conflicts. His characters are often very sensual.”

  Mr. Darcy decided he now should especially enjoy the play, while Elizabeth responded with some trepidation. Temptation and temperance, she thought.

  “The program says it is to be spoken in Greek,” Elizabeth said to Mrs. Napoleono seated next to her. “As is the synopsis.”

  “It is so indelicate, my husband will give you only a brief description of its story.”

  Mr. Napoleono, seated next to Mr. Darcy, gave them a short idea of the plot a few moments before the action began. “It’s a family tragedy in which a king and his qu
een have three grown children, two sons and a daughter. One of the princes is in love with his mother, while she is in love with his brother. Meanwhile, the father is in love with his daughter, and she is in love with the brother who loves their mother. An older cousin of the princess, who is another prince, is in love with her, while his mother is in love with the prince who loves his sister, and his brother is in love with the king, while his mother is insane and goes on a rampage to kill everyone.”

  “I can understand why,” said Elizabeth. “But there is more,” amended Mr. Napoleono. “An uncle of the young royal couple also is in love with the queen, and his wife is in love with the princess.” “My husband failed to mention,” said his wife, “the princes are identical twins.”

  Elizabeth said, “Oh, dear.” “I’m not sure I can keep all that straight,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “It took me three performances, but the action will speak for itself. Since we have seen the play three times before, be cautioned that there is much temptation enacted.”

  “And is there much temperance?” Elizabeth ventured to ask.

  Mr. Napoleono chuckled. “I have yet to see any.”

  Said Darcy, “I’ve read that in ancient Greek tragedies, women were portrayed by male actors.” “So it is with this performance,” Mr. Napoleono replied, “to preserve authenticity. Men appear bare-chested, wearing a short cloak covering only one breast, called a chalmys. Men who play female roles wear full-length gowns and underneath a wooden structure in front of the chest to imitate breasts.”

  Darcy and Elizabeth sat enthralled as the play began. All the actors wore masks, but only part of the time. The Darcy’s were instantly taken by the beauty of the actors playing the two princes and the princess. Elizabeth estimated that their parents were handsome actors of the ages of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.

  “The prince in love with his mother is…” Elizabeth was about to remark to Mr. Darcy that he was gorgeous, but after a moment’s hesitation employed a slightly less accurate adjective… “quite uncommonly agreeable-looking.”

  Whispered Mrs. Napoleono to Elizabeth: “Ladies swoon over him when he is seen on the streets in Athens, as they do over the actor portraying his brother, although with not quite the ardor, and also regard the actor playing the princess. It is quite scandalous because the two young men playing the princess are rarely seen apart in the city. They are like Siamese twins.”

  The play unfolded with even more passion than the Darcy’s had been told to expect. Elizabeth could not imagine her parents watching such a play. She could hardly believe she was. At times she grasped Mr. Darcy’s hand, to comfort her.

  Before the play’s finale, all of the royals were dead, killed by one of them or the other. It was a multiple Romeo and Juliet, Elizabeth thought, with not a Capulet or Montague left standing, although the Greeks in the play were all of the same family.

  Elizabeth gasped at the play’s end. She felt, but did not say, that she needed to take a bath. She felt herself to be awash in all the blood that she witnessed on the stage, even though she knew it was not real but artificially created.

  Afterward, back in their bedchamber at the inn, Mr. Darcy said, “Tomorrow, let us leave Athens and go sailing in the Greek Isles.” It would be a welcome relief to Elizabeth because of her uncomfortable feelings about the play. It also would be a good solution to their potentially dangerous situation as revolutionary accomplices. More important, she again longed to feel Mr. Darcy’s arms around her when they would be on a sunny beach.

  They never saw nor heard again from their Athens tour guides, but the experience made them both determined to be more cautious of strangers in the future. That would go against Elizabeth’s nature, although not Mr. Darcy’s, whose sensibilities leaned toward first impressions and, if his trust was lost, never could be regained.

  Chapter Four

  Upon their arrival at Hunsford on Thursday afternoon, the Darcy’s saw Mr. Collins huffing and puffing, playing tennis with a tall, blond young man. Lady Catherine had given Mr. Collins a tennis net and two rackets as her sole wedding gift. He had a parishioner install the net on a small section of grass near his garden. It had been obvious that his benefactress had given the gift expressly for him and perhaps any visiting minister, not for Charlotte, of whom she still did not approve, considering her to be socially inferior, even to Mr. Collins.

  Mr. Darcy mainly was disdainful of Mr. Collins because of considering him to be a boot-licker, constantly trying to ingratiate himself to his benefactress.

  The parson looked and sounded winded, gasping for breath. His athletic-looking opponent looked as fresh as if they had just begun a match. “The young man is of a most agreeable-looking countenance,” Elizabeth whispered to Mr. Darcy. In fact, she assessed that he was beautiful, if a man could be called so. Even more-so than the young Greek prince.

  Mr. Darcy nodded. “Uncommonly so. He looks to be perhaps only twenty.” A most unusual event then occurred. At first sight of him close-up, Mr. Darcy saw the young man to be bathed in sunlight. He regarded it as being strange, since the sun had gone behind some clouds and they all were standing in shade. But he did not think he had imagined the light, nor had it been a phenomenon of the weather. It puzzled him, but did not disturb him. He felt that the young man radiated a friendly disposition that even warmed him.

  The young man’s thick and straight hair, the blondest the Darcy’s had ever seen on a man or woman, fell casually over his forehead, tousled after the tennis. He wore a seemingly perpetual small smile, as if inviting friendship, that pleased both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

  Mr. Darcy noted even from a distance that while Mr. Collins’ white blouse was of an interior muslin, the young man’s was of fine silk and loose-fitting so it moved slightly in the breeze. It might even be a size too large for him. He took pride in his own attire and, to him, there were few men’s garments that were as beautiful as Irish silk shirts, and the young man looked like he should never wear anything else over his athletic chest. It surprised Mr. Darcy that he gave such matters any mind.

  What drew Darcy’s interest even more than the silk shirt was the tight-fitting blue trousers the Irishman wore. He made a mental note to ask him about them later.

  While Elizabeth accepted him with no reservation regarding his sincerity, Mr. Darcy told himself they should proceed with caution, as was his nature with strangers. The young man’s eyes were an intense, almost startling deep blue that it was impossible not to fixate on, as did the Darcy’s. They were almost hypnotized by them.

  Charlotte came out of the parsonage cottage waving at them. She looked pale and drawn. A dark-haired girl walked demurely behind her. Elizabeth estimated she was under twenty, perhaps no more than seventeen. Her shoulder-length hair was black and her eyes deep green. To Elizabeth, she was also very agreeablelooking. In fact, she possessed one of the most pleasing countenances she had ever seen on a girl.

  Not quite as tall as her brother, the girl looked stunning in a dark green frock that concealed her ample breasts modestly. The dress was not of the highest current British fashion, yet very becoming. The young people from Ireland were not wealthy, she estimated. It did not matter to her and she wondered if it did to Mr. Darcy..

  Mr. Darcy also was taken by the girl’s beauty. She did not look to him, however, to be of quality, of society, or fortune. He did not think those shortcomings would keep her from marrying well. Any number of eligible bachelors or widowers of any age with fortunes would consider her. If not as their bride, certainly as a mistress. He personally knew many such men who were not content to singularly be a husband, as was he. Temperance would rule him, never temptation.

  Darcy had felt enough passion with Elizabeth, and still did six months into their marriage. He never had a mistress, nor did he think he would ever take one. He was perfectly content with Elizabeth as his wife. More than that, he truly loved her. But if ever a young woman could turn a man’s head and make him stray, the young Irish lass could be such a girl.
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  The Darcy’s were soon joined by the Collins’s and the young Irishmen, and the vicar made the introductions in his usual unctuous manner. A queen bee could give birth to a swarm in his mouth.

  “Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy, meet my new young friends from Ireland, Shamus O’Reilly and his sister Philippa.”

  Mr. Darcy became almost apprehensive, at hearing the young people introduced as brother and sister. The familial connection reminded him with some anxiety of Athens and revolutionaries.

  “I’m called Sean,” the young man corrected politely, bowing his head. “It’s pronounced Shawn, like in lawn”

  “I’m called Pippa,” the lass said with a curtsy. Elizabeth loved her name. She and Mr. Darcy thought Pippa was a female equivalent of her handsome brother. But they did not look at all like brother and sister, even beyond his fair hair and hers dark. It was not possible for Mr. Darcy to decide, whether Mr. O’Reilly was more attractive as a young man, or Pippa as a young woman. They both far surpassed the norm.

  Mr. O’Reilly offered his hand to Mr. Darcy who grasped it with uncharacteristic acceptance, surprised at himself for receiving a stranger warmer than he normally did. There was an innocence about the young Irishman that threw Mr. Darcy off his guard, at least momentarily. He gave Mr. O’Reilly a firm handshake and received an even firmer one in return. Elizabeth offered her hand to Miss O’Reilly and also received a firm handshake in return that she regarded as truly sincere. Firm or limp handshakes said a lot about people.

  “How fortunate I am, like, to see four such uncommonly handsome people standing together, if you will.” Mr. Collins said, making them feel ill at ease. Elizabeth noted that the cleric seemed to exclude his wife in his words and thoughts.

  Charlotte came to their rescue. “The sun is rather hot. Come inside, where it’s a trifle cooler. I’ll have the tea ready shortly. Pippa has been helping me. Our housekeeper-maid only works mornings.”

  Did she say that as a reproach of her husband?, Elizabeth wondered. Was Mr. Collins so frugal he could not afford to keep a housekeeper-maid longer than just mornings? She sensed that Mr. Darcy was wondering the same. Charlotte looked tired. Was she, in fact, the housekeeper-maid?