Darcy got up instantly but then hesitated, not knowing what to do to dampen the fire. He feared that whatever he threw on it might make the flames increase. Sean went into immediate action. Seeing no water close-by, he rushed to a plant standing in a pot of dirt on a table near the fireplace. He took up the pot and threw the dirt and plant onto the fire. Instantly, the flames died.
“I apologize,” Sean told his hosts. “I’m afraid I’ve killed your plant.”
“But you may have saved our house!” said Darcy, admiring his young guest.
Asked Elizabeth, “How ever did you think of what you used?” “I am a volunteer fireman in Dublin. I’ve learned how to put out various types of fire, from kitchen fires to camp fires. Water or sand are often employed, but if not available, dirt can suffice. I saw the potted plant and thought, any pot in a storm.”
“I call that quick thinking,” Darcy said, “and congratulate you.” It made him think again, as he had several times earlier after meeting the young Irishman. It would be advantageous if he should learn some things practical, like repairing a clock or putting out a fire. He was sure there were many other things he should like to know how to do, since he was soon to be a father.
He did wish earnestly for a son, he had to admit to himself, though he never would to his wife. The Darcy lineage must be preserved, and it would be up to him. His cousin Fitzwilliam might remain a bachelor or, if he married, might not be a father. Being a man of caution, Darcy thought the obligation to have a son was up to him. He did not like to leave anything to chance. And attempting to be a father was a most pleasurable endeavor. And he would be a loving father, so his son would not live feeling deprived.
Seeing Mr. O’Reilly be so quick to put out the fire, Elizabeth admired him even more than previous. A tinge of attraction came over her. He was, she had even admitted to her husband, uncommonly handsome. And agreeable in manner and personality as well. She had to confess to herself, although silently: he was not only a handsome man, he had a handsome personality.
Elizabeth then turned to thinking of the number and variety of Pippa’s accomplishments. The girl had the manners and charm of a young woman of society, yet she could perform as a cook, house maid, ladies’ maid, or other domestic.
Elizabeth thought she should like to become more accomplished beyond playing the piano-forte, painting, and learning the new dance steps. After all, she did not need those accomplishments any longer. She had already found a husband, and the best possible one.
If she should have a daughter, she would be obliged to have her learn the accomplishments she had, of art and music, so the girl would have the qualities gentlemen of society and means required in a wife. Most men of society, she thought almost ruefully, married not out of love, but in order to have a legal heir. A mistresses’ child would not count. She thought Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were two definite exceptions. And they both were very faithful husbands. They would never be tempted to stray.
Then why, Elizabeth wondered, did she suddenly remember her friend Catherine warning her to be cautious of the most agreeable Irish couple? Before the couples parted and went to their bed chambers, Darcy asked Sean, when they were alone, about another marriage phrase. “Tying the knot” had reminded him of it.
Darcy said, “I have wondered about the expression ‘ball and chain.’ Perhaps you know, what is its origin and meaning, particularly in marriage?”
Replied Sean, “It refers to prisoners whose warden have them fettered with a chain attached to a leg on one end and to a heavy metal ball on the other, so they could not escape. In marriage, the term means wedlock is a prison. Wives are wardens, and husbands wear a metaphorical ball and chain. So they cannot escape and go out to drink ale with the boys or dally with other women. A husband’s wifely ball and chain keep him home, painting rooms, repairing toilets, rearranging furniture.
Darcy frowned. “I do not feel my marriage to Mrs. Darcy has me fettered to a ball and chain. We allow each other a great deal of freedom, and I should not want to escape from her. We are always faithful to each other.”
Sean said, “It is the same with me and Pippa. We have what I consider to be a most agreeable marriage. We enjoy the same faithfulness.”
The new friends said, in unison, “They are dear girls.” Chapter Fourteen The Darcy's and O'Reilly's spent Sunday at Pemberley in leisure as the couples became more acquainted. Sean felt himself to be more attracted to Mrs. Darcy, and Pippa to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth felt herself to be more attracted to Mr. O'Reilly, and Darcy to Miss O'Reilly
Temptation and temperance ruled the day, and upon the Irish departing on a grey Monday morning that matched their moods that a nearly idyllic weekend had passed so quickly.
Elizabeth informed Mr. and Mrs. Bennet by note early on Sunday morning that Lydia had left Mr. Wickham and gone to London. “Mrs. Bennett, I do not feel well enough to go to church with you and the girls this morning,” said Mr. Bennett. “My stomach feels unwell and I experience a strangeness in my left arm.”
It is because of anxiousness regarding Lydia, thought Mrs. Bennett. To take precaution against it being possibly fatal, she sent Mary to fetch Doctor Martin. Her daughter returned more than an hour later with the news that he was away for the week, playing golf in Scotland.
Mr. Bennet, fearing because of a possible heart attack, took to his bed, forgetting that he had strained it while lifting a heavy tub of lard Mrs. Bennett had asked him to put back on a pantry shelf after their cook had used it that morning for breakfast.
“Your pain may be a forewarning of some serious malady,” Mrs. Bennet said, thinking of his mortality and the dreadful likelihood that Mr. Collins would charge her an inordinate sum for the funeral besides also inheriting the roof over her head.
Mrs. Bennet was near to running out of medical attention for Mr. Bennet but then told Mary, “Call the midwife!”
Mary ran frantically to the midwife’s cottage and told the woman that her father was ill and needed help. The midwife said, “I’m on my way to deliver a baby. Tell your father he’ll feel better if he takes some deep breaths and thinks positive. Anyway, I am in a quandary. I was away from class the day we nurses got instruction on how to deliver an infant. I really don’t know nothing about birthing babies!”
Mary returned home and reported it to Mrs. Bennet.
“Go to a neighbor for help,” said Mrs. Bennet.
Mary looked at her with wonder. “Who is my neighbor? We never discourse to our neighbors. They aren’t family.”
Maybe we should have, sometimes, Mrs. Bennet thought. Mrs. Bennet reached a conclusion and told Mr. Bennet, “I shall have our coachman drive you to hospital while your daughters and I go to church and pray for your good health.” Or, she said to herself, your soul.
Not very comforted, Mr. Bennet allowed that being taken to hospital by their coachman would be prudent. Walking to church at Hunsford with her daughters, Mrs. Bennet thought she would miss Mr. Bennet, should his malady or whatever ailed him that morning take him from her. She had, she remembered, loved him before they married. Had she not? She was uncertain what happened to that love over the years, if she had indeed felt that strong an affection for him when she accepted him. She had had no other offers and was aging close to 25.
She had not been the most beautiful or accomplished girl at the assembly dances, so she had not been invited to trip the light fantastic much. She was unable to learn to play the piano-forte and her music teacher in school had told her that her singing voice was too high and strident, the same as her speaking voice.
Mr. Bennet had asked her to dance once, although not twice. If a gentleman was truly interested in a single young woman, she would sense it if he had asked her for a second dance. Still, one dance had been sufficient, and she set her cap for him, chasing him until she caught him. She had achieved incentive when she learned he had a nice house and was a gentleman. He did not work. He had an inherited income of perhaps two thousand pounds, take or leave off a few hundr
ed. That was close enough, considering.
At church service Sunday morning in Hunsford, Mr. Collins wondered why his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was not present, since she rarely was absent, unless she was ill. He hoped that was not the case because it might interfere with his regular monthly stipends from her. Of course, if the Lord felt inclined to take her, he might be mentioned in her will. The Lord taketh away and the Lord giveth.
Mr. Collins’s fire and brimstone sermon was on temptation, a prelude to the one he planned to give on temptation and temperance, when his research was complete. He was anxiously awaiting a report from his Irish research assistants on what they had experienced with the Bennet sisters and their spouses, particularly regarding the Darcy’s.
The parson’s congregation that morning consisted of Mrs. Bennet and her daughters Kitty and Mary, two sleepy militia soldiers, and assorted Meryton townspeople and nearby farm families. Before he began his sermon, Mr. Wickham entered, looking not too well, and took a seat in the rear of the church. Mr. Collins took note that Mr. Wickham was not with his wife and wondered if she was ill, and also about the condition of their marriage.
In deep practiced voice and with somber face, Mr. Collins told the congregation, “The Bible advises sinners that if your right eye tempts you to sin, in thought as well as deed, cut it out. If your right arm or leg tempts you to sin, cut it off. For the Lord says it is better to give up an eye, an arm, or a leg, than be refused entrance to Heaven and instead be damned and suffer the fires of hell.”
In the Bennet pew, the girls’ mother was not listening, her mind on fearing she could lose her house. Kitty and Mary rolled their eyes and exchanged looks that confirmed they did not feel the sermon was addressed to them, even in thought much less deed.
Mr. Wickham listened to the sermon thinking it was addressed directly to him because of his feelings for Mr. O’Reilly and the best of all possible worlds with him. He squirmed in his seat in the back row. One fine day, hopefully soon, he would make Mr. Darcy suffer the fires of hell.
After church, Mrs. Bennett, Kitty, and Mary visited Mr. Bennet in hospital. En route to his room, they witnessed Lady Catherine de Burgh being wheeled into a room in a wheelchair. Mrs. Bennet inquired of her to a nurse’s aid and learned that the dowager had complained to her domestics that morning that she had a fever and a sore throat. She had come down with a cold that she feared could develop into pneumonia, which was spreading in the community. She had wanted her doctor, Dr. Kildare, to visit her at Rosings, but was informed that he was away for a week, playing golf in Wales.
“We could all die with such lack of care!” Mrs. Bennet wailed. Lady de Bourgh heard and said the same, although even louder, so they both could be heard over the entire hospital.
A nurse assured both ladies, although separately, “A temporary doctor in residence for the week will attend to you. He has a year more of residency to fulfill before he becomes an accredited veterinarian, but has had training in folk medicine from red-skinned natives in the colonies.” Her words gave the ladies little comfort.
Mr. Bennet prayed silently that he be allowed to pass on to the next world peacefully. He hoped that, in another life, he might be a bachelor. Or, at least, a childless husband.
Mrs. Bennet felt flushed and her heart pounded in her breast. Lady de Bourgh turned her face to the wall and prepared to meet her Maker. Also after church service, Mr. Wickham retired to The Royal Arms and began drinking ale. He came close to crying in his ale mug. Why me?, he asked the Almighty. Why must I suffer so? Does the Lord find pleasure in denying me my heart’s content? And now my wife has humiliated me by leaving our home. If she cuckolds me, I should never live down the disgrace.
He wished he could find consolation with Mr. O’Reilly but, vaguely through the fog in his head, recalled that the Irish lad was at the Darcy’s. Dare he go to Pemberley? He thought not. He felt unwelcome there, so he remained seated and ordered another ale. To add to his discomfort, Deidre was away, on a Sunday holiday. He presumed she was spending it with another officer of his company, or maybe one of the members of the Meryton Village Council. Perhaps even the mayor.
Mr. Wickham drank his ale and thought, I shall get a case of ulcers, or at the very least indigestion, from this internal emotional conflict regarding the Irish lad and the best of all possible worlds.
Lydia Bennet Wickham was at that moment in London in the arms of an officer who had been Mr. Wickham’s friend in the militia. He had asked for a transfer to London after feeling uncomfortable about being Mr. Wickham’s drinking companion. Deuced man, thought the officer. Wickham has a problem.
Lydia thought she had once been attracted to the officer with whom she was now in bed. She might even have loved him, somewhat. But then dashing Mr. Wickham had swept her off her dance slippers. Then he took her to London to have his way with her.
She felt now that that she was with child. But who was the father? Mr. Wickham, whom Mr. Darcy paid a large sum to wed her? Or perhaps it was the gentleman who now was on top of her. She could not recall being intimate with him before, but with another militiaman. No, she became more certain as she gave it more thought while in the officer’s bed that morning. It had been with her present bed mate, earlier. For that reason, she had gone straight to him soon as she arrived in London early Sunday morning.
Chapter Fifteen
Mrs. Bennet, distraught over Lydia going off to London again, wrote to Elizabeth asking if she could prevail upon Mr. Darcy to relieve her distress by going to the city in search of Lydia and fetching her back home.
“Lydia is a silly goose,” Elizabeth said to her husband after reading her mother’s note during Monday breakfast at Pemberley. “But she may get into mischief there again. Could you… would you kindly oblige Mrs. Bennet and myself in this errand of mercy?”
Mr. Darcy felt a dreaded sense of deja vous. Was he to be always required to go off to find and rescue Lydia from a London escapade, as he had the year before?
Elizabeth said to Mr. Darcy, “If it were not against the King’s laws, I should like to murder Mr. Wickham.”
Darcy smiled. “I should be glad to do it for you.”
He struggled for an excuse not to go in search of Lydia. “I’m busy planning the nursery for our expected son… er, child…” He did not tell her that he had already purchased for delivery a football uniform and equipment for their son, a pony for him to ride, a children’s replica of the finest carriage which their son could pedal himself, and had enrolled him in the best private kindergarten, prep school, and Oxford University. Painters were being retained at-the-ready to paint the nursery robin’s egg blue.
Elizabeth did not tell Darcy that she had already enrolled their daughter in a mail-order doll-of-the-month club, a similar club for jewelry, self-improvement courses, and arranged for her to take ballet lessons. Painters would be employed to paint the nursery buttercup yellow.
“Regarding the nursery,” said Elizabeth. “We should be generous in what is there for our child. But not over-do it so as to spoil him or her.” Mr. Darcy agreed. He then thought of another excuse to avoid searching for Lydia.“I also have been improving my mind on general topics, as I have noticed Mr. O’Reilly is quite familiar with a wide range of subjects, many of them helpful regarding safety.”
“I have noticed you are away more frequently, visiting the library in Meryton.”
Darcy cleared his throat and replied, to change the subject, lest she suspect that he had more than improving his mind in his increased visits to the library. The new librarian assistant was most attractive and knowledgeable on a wide range of subjects.
Darcy finally became reconciled regarding Lydia. “I shall be happy to relieve Mrs. Bennet’s and your distress by undertaking the errand of mercy. I would ask Mr. Bingley to accompany me, but he is at present at the library in Meryton where he said he is also pursuing more knowledge of a general nature.”
Elizabeth felt relieved. “It is admirable of you both to be
so engaged.”
Darcy smiled, then thought for a moment. “I believe I shall ask Mr. O’Reilly if he would accompany me to London.”
Elizabeth heartily agreed and thought that while they were away in the city, she would enjoy spending more time alone with Pippa.
“I haven’t any notion of where to look for Lydia in London,” said Darcy.
Elizabeth did not hesitate for a moment to reply. “Silly Lydia’s predominant passions are for bonnets and soldiers.” Monday morning, Darcy found the young Irishman at The Royal Arms in Meryton, mopping the dining-room floor after breakfast had been served and the guests departed.
“I admire your industry.”
“It is of necessity, a matter of survival. And I really don’t mind. I find the other help here to be quite agreeable.” Mr. Darcy noticed a young maid in frock and apron, attending to some glassware. He thought she was quite agreeable-looking, and wondered, but just for a moment, if Mr. O’Reilly had meant her to be the object of his finding the inn’s staff to be quite agreeable. Sean had said he did not feel he was fettered to a ball and chain.
“You may know, perhaps, that Mrs. Darcy’s sister Lydia has left Mr. Wickham and gone off to London.”
“Pippa said she learned of it.” “Her sudden departure has caused Mrs. Bennet considerable distress. She has asked Mrs. Darcy if I would go to the city to look for her and bring her back home.”
“A prudent idea.”
“I wonder if you, perhaps, at my total expense, would accompany me to London in search of the wayward young woman?”
Mr. O’Reilly was delighted with the opportunity to visit London, a city totally foreign to him.
“I should be glad to accompany you. When do we start?”
Clouds Over Pemberley Page 11
