And then they had to sign the register to seal their marriage, make it official.
But Elizabeth fairly floated through all of it. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so happy in her entire life.
* * *
Elizabeth stood inside the bed chamber, dressed only in her shift. Her hair was down around her shoulders. It was her wedding night.
“I suppose you have to be here,” Darcy said, throwing himself down in a chair next to the bed. There was a tray of fruit and cheese there. He picked off an apple, surveyed it, but did not eat it. “Have to keep up appearances and all of that.”
“You don’t want me here?” she said, and she couldn’t help but be disappointed. They’d had little chance to talk all day, what with all of the to-do about the wedding.
“I didn’t say that.” Darcy glared at her. “Stop it, Elizabeth, I mean it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop doing that female thing that you’re doing in which you’re so insecure in yourself that you keep digging for hidden meanings in my actions.” He pulled out his bottle of laudanum. “There’s nothing to unearth. I am an open book. I’ve married you because I want to, not because I feel forced. Trust me, if I’d wanted an excuse to get out of the whole thing, I could have easily found one.”
She clasped her hands together and then unclasped them. She felt nervous, she realized.
He took a drink of laudanum.
She reached for the bottle before he could put it away, brought it to her lips, and took a pull.
He snatched it back. “You really shouldn’t, you know.”
“Because it’s dangerous, and I’ll grow to need it over time.”
“Precisely.” He took another drink. “But I suppose you should have some kind of pleasure on your wedding night, even though nothing else can be done.” He handed her the bottle again.
She took another drink. She was already beginning to feel the edges of the opium starting to seep into her. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Whatever, she felt better.
She sat down on the bed, opposite him. “So, there is no chance that you and I will be able to…?” She had thought tonight of all nights, he might make a special effort to perform.
He slouched in his chair, not looking at her. “I’m sorry. I did try. I made it through the morning without any, and I promised myself I would keep away from it all day. I wanted to at least have the energy to bring you pleasure, even if I couldn’t manage to achieve—but I failed. I had to have some. And then once I’d had a bit, I had to have some more.” He buried his hands in his hair and bowed forward in the chair. “It’s stronger than me. I can’t fight it.”
Tentatively, she reached out and touched him. She ran her fingers over the top of his head. “It will be all right.”
“It won’t.” He didn’t look up.
She shut her eyes. “We’ll dream together again, and it will be all right. All I wanted was to be close to you.”
He sighed. He lifted his head. “I am tired, Elizabeth. I have had too much. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay awake.” His eyes were half-lidded, she realized. “I’m afraid I am going to make you the worst husband in all of England.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You’re perfect.”
He laughed, resting his head against the back of the chair. “You’re a wonderful liar, my sweet.” His eyes slid closed. He laughed again, a kind of wild, helpless noise. “I’m sorry for everything.”
She touched his cheek. “Stop apologizing. I should apologize. I’m the one—”
“You did nothing wrong at all.” His hand covered hers, holding it in place against his face.
She kissed him.
His lips were warm, but they barely seemed to move against hers. He moaned softly, and he tugged her into his lap.
She lay her head on his chest, burrowing against him. She closed her eyes. “What do you see?” she whispered.
“I see…” He sighed. “I see Death riding up the drive to Pemberley carrying an opium pipe, and leaving nothing but grinning skeletons in his wake.”
“Darcy,” she murmured, furrowing her brow.
He laughed again, that same unchecked noise. “I see you, and you are beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like me. What do you see?”
She concentrated. Truly, she was not so deeply taken away by the opium to see anything yet, but she whispered, “I see us. I see you whole and healthy. I see…” She hesitated. “I see us with children. It could happen, Darcy. We are married now, and you need an heir, and I would like to give you one.”
She waited for him to say something, to protest.
But he said nothing.
“Darcy?” she whispered. She sat up and surveyed him.
His eyes were closed. His lips were barely parted.
She nudged him. He barely responded.
He was asleep.
She waited for several seconds, and then she climbed out of his lap.
Well. She didn’t think she could get him into the bed. He was too heavy, and she was not strong enough.
And she wasn’t yet tired herself, so she wasn’t sure she could go to sleep.
She looked around the room, but there was not much here to amuse herself with.
Finally, she sat down on the other chair and began eating the fruit and cheese. She ate with gusto until the laudanum began to tug at her, making her feel languid and warm.
Then she crawled to the bed, got under the covers, and closed her eyes.
But when she did, the vision that Darcy had described to her flashed vividly before her.
Gasping, she opened her eyes, horrified.
She closed her eyes again.
Nothing but warmth and darkness, like a gaping hole to the center of the earth.
She let herself fall into it.
She slept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After the wedding, she and Darcy traveled to Pemberley, a journey that was long for Elizabeth because Darcy slept the entire way. When they arrived, he could hardly get out of the carriage to show her around her new home. He had to be helped up to his bedchamber by his valet and the coachman.
Elizabeth hardly knew what to think or what to do.
Days passed, and she got as settled as she could, meeting all the servants and finding her way about the place. It was a massive estate on extensive grounds, but most everything had gone to disrepair as Darcy had only kept the bare minimum of a staff at the place. Now, with him back, she inquired whether they might not bring the place back to its former glory.
Darcy had no objections. Indeed, he opened his books to her, saying that he trusted her judgment and could not possibly pay any of it any mind.
No, Darcy was too busy with his opium dreams.
Elizabeth thought to herself that if he saw that Pemberley could be restored, it would help inspire him to want to take back control of the estate again. He would feel pride in his home, pride in his wife, and that would engender some pride within himself. Not the evil kind of pride that went before a fall, but the pride that allowed a man to feel worth something.
Wasn’t he always saying he was worthless?
He needed something to fight for, and she aimed to give it to him. So, she threw herself into working on the estate, ordering servants here and there, having new curtains made, rooms scrubbed from top to bottom, furniture mended and shuffled from room to room. She even had a bit of work done on the gardens. It was fall, so most of what could be done was only preparation for spring time.
It took weeks, and for much of that time, she didn’t see much of Darcy. He sometimes came down for dinner, but more often than not, he simply fell asleep in his chair and the servants had to carry him up to bed.
When she was done, and there was no more to do to fix up the estate, she went into his bedchamber the following morning.
She looked down at him, sleeping there.
And she knew she had been fooling herself. She had been fixing up
the estate to give herself something to do, not because it would make any difference to Darcy.
She crawled onto the bed next to him, snuggling against his chest.
He stirred.
“Darcy?” she whispered.
He made a soft noise.
“Are you awake?”
Nothing.
* * *
After that, there was a bad period of time in which Elizabeth began to feel hopeless.
For several weeks, she did next to nothing. She skipped all her meals as well, except the evening one. She went for listless walks on the grounds. She reread novels she had already read. She had no stomach for something shocking. She only wanted comfort.
And then she got a letter from Jane, who was worried about her. I know you wanted him badly, Lizzy, but I don’t like the changes he wrought in you. The way you behaved, you were utterly unlike your sweet self. Please write me and tell me you are happy, at least.
Elizabeth snorted when she read that. Happy? Well, there had been moments of happiness, anyway. She was sure she could be happy with Darcy. But Darcy was drifting away from her, lost to his drug.
Bingley is rather put out with you, I’m afraid, but I can never be angry with you, my dearest sister. I should like to come and visit you if it isn’t too forward to ask. I shan’t bring anyone with me. The children and Bingley will stay home at Netherfield. I must see you. The only excuse I will accept is that you are overcome with newly married bliss and have no time for me. If that is the case, I will be satisfied.
Elizabeth wrote back and told Jane to come.
The first night, Darcy couldn’t be roused to come to dinner, so the sisters dined alone. Afterward, sitting in one of the drawing rooms in Pemberley, Elizabeth began to tell her sister the entire story. At first, she spoke in halting whispers about the pirate ship and the dead men and the terror she had felt locked in a room that smelled of onions. But as she continued to speak, her tongue loosened, and she spoke freely of all of it.
When she was done, it was quiet.
Jane did nothing but shake her head.
“I know,” said Elizabeth. “It is quite shocking. I am sorry to burden you with such a story.”
“None of it is your fault,” said Jane. “Why, he is the one who took advantage of you. You had no one on that ship. He should never have behaved the way he did. And then, when he returned, to ignore you thus. It would have driven any woman quite mad.”
“It is not as bad as all that.” Elizabeth sighed. “I am married, after all, for whatever that is worth.”
Jane sprang across the room and wrapped her arms around her.
The next day, Darcy did come down for dinner, but he didn’t make much conversation, and he didn’t eat anything.
After dinner, he fell asleep in the drawing room.
Elizabeth and Jane sat around the fire, talking quietly while he snored. Eventually, Jane took her leave and went to bed. Elizabeth stared at Darcy, sprawled out and lost to her, and tears sprang to her eyes.
Suddenly, it was very painful, and it was too much.
She went to him, and she fished the bottle of laudanum of his pocket and took several lovely dollops of it. She did it because she was disappointed. She wanted Darcy. She wanted him close. She wanted kisses and embraces and sweet whispers in her ear. She knew that she was being greedy. After all, she’d never even imagined that she would have a husband, let alone one who loved her and had chosen her.
But she couldn’t help it. She wanted more than a drugged Darcy.
She took the laudanum to make up for the fact that she wasn’t going to have any of the things she wanted with him. It took a while for the opium to begin to work on her, but when it did, Elizabeth stretched out on one of the lounges opposite Darcy and gazed at the ceiling, which was beginning to look very, very far away…
And then Jane came back into the drawing room.
Elizabeth tried to sit up, but it was very difficult. “I thought you had gone to sleep.”
Jane came across the room and snatched up the bottle from where Elizabeth had set it down. “Lizzy, what are you doing?”
Elizabeth shook her head. Everything felt thick and pleasant. “No, I’m not like Darcy. I don’t need it. I just like it.”
Jane raised her eyebrows. “Oh, you aren’t?”
“No.”
“Well, if you keep at it, you soon will be.”
Elizabeth licked her lips. “Listen, Jane, what does it matter? I am no one and nothing. If I drift away on the current here in this lovely drawing room, feeling as though I am borne up by the sweet, warm air—”
Jane shook her. “Stop it, Lizzy. I won’t have this. Come home with me.”
Elizabeth pushed her off. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. I am married.”
“No, you aren’t. You told me yourself that you have not been with him the way a husband and wife should be together. It could be annulled.”
“I don’t want it annulled. I want Darcy.”
“How could you want this?” Jane gestured at Darcy’s inert form. “There is nothing here to want. And I won’t stand by while you let yourself become just like him.”
“I won’t,” said Elizabeth. “I’ll… I’ll…” She drew herself up. “I’ll save him.”
Jane shook her head sadly. “Oh, Lizzy, I don’t know that you can. He has to want to save himself. And right now, he doesn’t seem to want anything at all.”
Elizabeth cried herself to sleep that night.
But when she woke up the next morning, she thought back on the conversation, and she realized that there was some truth to it.
If she did keep at the laudanum, she would end up just like Darcy. Already, it sang to her in a most seductive voice, and she realized, with trepidation, that she was desperately close to losing herself to it.
No more laudanum, she swore to herself.
As for the bit about Darcy not wanting anything, Elizabeth couldn’t fault Jane for thinking it. It did seem that way. But Elizabeth knew Darcy better than Jane did. He was a damaged man, but underneath it all, he was good, and she knew it.
When the men on the ship had tried to harm her, Darcy had saved her.
She could save him too.
* * *
“Please wait, sir,” Elizabeth called after the doctor who was leaving Darcy’s chambers.
It hadn’t been easy resisting the laudanum, but Elizabeth had done it for Darcy. She couldn’t allow herself to succumb if she wanted to save her husband. She hadn’t had a drop since that night, which had been over a month ago.
Jane had gone home, finally, but she had not wavered in her invitation for Elizabeth to leave with her. She made Elizabeth promise to write regularly and said that she wanted her to come to visit soon, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Elizabeth all alone in this huge house on her own.
The doctor turned. He was an elderly gentleman with a clipped white beard. He looked her over. “You are the new Mrs. Darcy, then?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I am Mr. Darcy’s wife. I wanted to speak to you. You have brought more laudanum, have you?”
The man sighed. “Listen, madam, I am not unaware of the situation your husband is in. But trust me, it will not go any easier for you if I were to deny him what he wants. He would find another way to get it, and I assure you, it would be less savory and less safe.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to stop giving it to him.” Elizabeth wrung her hands. “But something must be done. I know that if he stopped it all at once, it would make him terribly ill.”
“At the level of consumption he is at, there is even a small chance it could kill him.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Then he cannot stop? Then he must take it forever?”
“That is not what I’m saying. He would do better to step down his consumption, a little less every day, I think.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth grimaced. “Well, he would never consent to do that.”
“No, I don’t suppose he wou
ld.”
“I want to help him, sir. I don’t know how to do that, but I am losing my husband. There is practically nothing of him left. And there must be some way to help him get off this stuff.”
The doctor shook his head. “It is insidious, madam, I will admit it. As a man of medicine, it is difficult to know what to do about the substance itself. It can be miraculously helpful for people who are in very bad pain, but if it is used too often, the results are quite bad. I know very few people who are able to quit its use entirely once they are ensconced in the habit.”
“So, what are you saying? It is hopeless?”
“I am saying that you must prepare yourself for the possibility that he will never recover entirely. But if you truly want to help him, I think I might be able to help a little bit. What I can do is to bring steadily weaker and weaker laudanum for him. Now, he may compensate for this by simply imbibing more of the stuff, and it may all come to naught. But if you are steadfast with him in your worries about his growing dependence, he may interpret it only that he needs more for the desired effect, which has undoubtedly happened to him before, and if he cares about you, he may fight not to eat more of the opium. If he is successful at this, after a few months, we may reveal to him what we have been up to. That may give him the courage to continue lowering his amount each day and eventually get free of the stuff entirely.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Yes, I understand. I want to try that. I want to try anything.”
“Of course you do.” He smiled at her. “I am glad he has you. Someone needs to be looking out for the poor man. It seems he’s been on a one-way path to destroying himself since he was quite young.”
* * *
And so, months passed. And with each visit of the doctor, Darcy was given less opium in his laudanum and more alcohol.
Elizabeth made it a point to try to keep him from drinking more of it, and, for the most part, he didn’t, but he seemed to be in despair when they spoke of it.
“I can’t understand it,” he said. “I can barely feel what I’ve just drunk. I can’t believe how quickly my tolerance is growing. It seems to practically double every few weeks. I am worse off than I ever was.”
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