"I cannot believe it. How could Josie have been so naïve, so wanting in understanding? I know she was always reputed to be self-willed, much like her father Mr Tate, but she was also intelligent and sensible. I saw no signs of irresponsible or impetuous behaviour in her, when she lived here in Matlock, nor after her marriage to Julian, when they were at Pemberley. That she could allow herself to be taken in and betrayed in this way is incredible. Mr and Mrs Darcy will be very shocked."
"And Mr Tate will probably want to have Barrett horse whipped as well, Papa, but it is poor Josie who needs our help now, for unless something is done to help her, she will probably die," cried Lizzie, urgently.
Lizzie's entreaties startled him and Richard decided that he would go himself, rather than send them with a letter to a physician in London. Besides, this was a family matter and he felt responsible.
A decision had also to be made as to whether the Darcys and the Tates should be told, and it was generally agreed between them that nothing should be said until they had seen Josie and ascertained her true condition.
"Her father has refused to have anything to do with her; even when Mrs Tate begged him to go to London and try to recover her, he would not budge," said Cassy, and her husband recalled Mr Tate's rage."He loved her dearly; he was so devastated and has felt bereft since she left her home and family, it would do no good to tell him anything until we have her safely lodged in some respectable place," Richard said.
* * *
As they prepared to leave on the following morning, being Sunday, there was one thing more that Lizzie had to resolve. Mr Carr had asked if he might call on her on Sunday and she had agreed. Now, she was concerned that he would arrive and, finding her gone to London with no explanation, he may draw the wrong conclusion.
He will surely believe that I have changed my mind and have gone away to avoid him or some such; at the very least, he will think me very rude, she thought.
There was only one thing to be done; she would have to take her brother Darcy into her confidence. She could then ask him to deliver a brief explanatory note to his friend.
It was quite late, when after dinner and some time at the billiard table, Darcy went up to his room. Their parents had already retired to bed, preparing for an early start on the morrow. There was a soft knock on the door and, to his very great surprise, his sister entered.
"Why, Lizzie, what keeps you awake so late?" he asked and she put a finger to her lips and silenced him, indicating she had something to say that was for his ears alone. He listened, as she told him of her dilemma and asked for his help.
Darcy had heard her out without a word, but when she had finished, he was determined to tease her."Lizzie, you sly little thing, do you mean to tell me that you and Mr Carr have been falling in love behind my back and he is coming here tomorrow to propose to you? I am delighted, of course, but you might have told me; after all I am your brother!" he said in mock indignation, a stance that was somewhat undermined by the fact that he spoke in a whisper.
Lizzie was adamant."I have said nothing of the sort. I have no idea what he proposes to do or say, but I do know he has asked if he may call on Sunday and I have agreed. Now if I were to go to London, giving no explanation for my absence, will it not seem rude and ill-mannered in the extreme? Surely you do not wish me to treat your good friend so, do you, Darcy?" she asked.
"Absolutely not, nor would I want him to think my little sister ill-mannered.But you have both been very secretive, keeping me in the dark," he complained, then smiling broadly, asked,"So, you wish me to explain?What will you have me say?"
Lizzie took from her pocket a note she had already written and addressed to Mr Carr. As she handed it to her brother, she said with an air of nonchalance,"It is not sealed, you may read it if you wish; there is nothing silly in there, only a simple explanation of the facts. I know he will understand; he is a kind and decent gentleman. But if you should choose, Darcy, you may add some little detail about poor Aunt Josie, so he knows how very urgent the situation was and why we had to go at once.
"I have said we hope to return within a week. Papa will probably need to be back in Matlock even earlier, but whether I amable to leave Josie will depend entirely upon her health and how soon she recovers," she explained and her brother, as always, impressed by his young sister's generous spirit, promised to do exactly as she asked.
"You need have no further anxiety, Lizzie. I shall tell him why you had to go to London and, perhaps, I may add how desolated you were at the prospect of missing him on Sunday, eh?"
Lizzie threw a pillow at his head as she left the room, still a little fearful.
Darcy was right, she was sorry to have to go; she had never wanted so much to stay and longed to know what Mr Carr might have said to her on Sunday, but she knew her duty, too. Her brother could believe what he pleased, but Lizzie was still unsure what the day might have brought.
* * *
It was cold and wet when they reached the outskirts of London.
Susan indicated which route they should follow and, as they left the main streets of the city and drove into the rutted lanes and byways, Cassy and her daughter glanced outside and then looked dubiously at one another, apprehensive of what they might find. These far from salubrious surroundings were not the best environment for one who was suffering a respiratory affliction of the kind Susan had described.
"It's her chest, ma'am; it sounds terrible when she coughs, like an old pair of bellows inside her."
Richard was certain Josie was suffering from a common bacterial infection that afflicted several of the poor in Winter. If not arrested and treated in time, it could lead to pneumonia.
"The sooner she can be given good, nourishing food, medication, and fresh air, the better," he said, and the deeper they drove into the fringes of the city, the more worried he looked.
They turned into a narrow but fairly clean street, lined with old, red brick houses, and Susan called to the driver to slow down. Finally, she made him stop before a solid, three-storied house, with a cast-iron gate set in its front wall. It was clearly the abode of a person with rather more substance to protect than the rest of the street.
As they got out of their carriage, half the women and children in the houses opposite came out to look at them. This was neighbourly curiosity in East London, thought Cassy, as she alighted and looked around. She was glad they were all very simply dressed for travelling with no furs or jewellery to excite the interest of onlookers.
A servant came to the gate and, seeing Susan, she unlocked it and let them into the house. They stood in a narrow hallway, from which two doors opened to the left and right of the stairs.
At least, thought Cassy, it is clean, though shabby.
Susan was about to take them to the room Josie occupied, when the mistress of the boardinghouse appeared on the landing and, addressing Susan, said,"I am glad you are back; she has not been well at all and has hardly eaten anything. Are these her relations?"
She was a large woman, with a stern though not unkindly face and a very big voice.
Susan spoke quickly, as if afraid to offend her."Yes, ma'am, they are come from Derbyshire," she replied,"and this is Dr Gardiner, ma'am."
The woman looked him over and said, still standing halfway up the stairs,"Dr Gardiner? Well, the lady in there is surely in need of your attention, sir, but I hope one of you can pay the rent she owes me, for I've had none for a fortnight."
Richard stepped up to the foot of the stairs and spoke quietly, but with the kind of dignified authority that characterised all his dealings.
"Madam, you need have no fears on that score; you will be paid every penny you are owed, rest assured. However, I am a doctor and the lady in that room is my patient. She is very ill and I must see her without delay. If something unfortunate were to happen to her, while we stood out here quibbling about the rent, it would not look good for you when the police and the coroner came to enquire, would it? So let us attend to her needs first and
we will settle your bills thereafter," he said.
The woman, clearly impressed by the firmness of Dr Gardiner's tone as by the possibility of a police enquiry intruding upon her establishment, indicated that they could proceed. Susan opened the door and, as they went in, it was all Lizzie could do not to cry out. Cassandra could not believe her eyes.
On a narrow, iron bed, with a thin mattress barely covered over with a plain linen sheet, lay Josie, propped up against two pillows, a blanket over her knees, and a woolen shawl around her shoulders. She looked pale and ill, so wretched, so utterly forlorn, that no one could say a word, but Susan, who rushed to her side and said in a bright, happy voice,"Miss Josie, they are here, I've fetched Miss Lizzie and Dr Gardiner and Mrs Gardiner. They are all come to help you get well."
Josie took her hand and held it, before turning her head to look at the visitors who seemed to fill the small space in the room. Cassy went to her at once, but Josie was too weak even to smile. On the table beside her bed stood a small bowl of soup—thin, stone cold, and unappetizing; clearly it had been her meagre lunch, of which she had probably taken a few spoons full.
Conscious of the dire condition of his patient, Richard gently moved his wife and daughter aside and, drawing up the only chair in the room, set about examining her. While Cassy stayed with them, Lizzie waited in the adjoining room with Susan, who had been sent to get hot water, soap, and a clean towel for the doctor.
Looking out of the window, all Lizzie could see was a row of terraces with chimney pots sticking up into the sky like so many strange-shaped dwarfs. They sat atop the roofs of grimy, dark brick buildings which had passed their usefulness as homes for the middle class and were now being used to house the families of thousands of rural workers, who were flooding into London, looking for jobs. Anne-Marie had told her once of seeing four and even five poverty-stricken families crowded into one of these boardinghouses, with little sanitation and often no water. At least, she thought, this place was clean, though it was as cold as charity.
Lizzie was not to know then what they learned later; that the boarding mistress was also the madam of another establishment, sited upstairs: one which employed a variety of young women, catering to the demands of"gentlemen" who visited after dark. This was the main source of her income, for which the"boardinghouse" provided a respectable front.
Even without this knowledge, Lizzie was depressed by the atmosphere of the place and hoped they could soon get Josie away.
It was almost half an hour later that her parents emerged from Josie's room. Both looked shaken and dejected.
Richard spoke first."She must be removed, at once, to a place where she may be bathed and cared for, given proper food and medication, and kept warm and comfortable. Above all, she must have some fresh air; the air in the room is foul, with just one window that is closed to keep out the cold and the smells from the street. It just will not do. If she remains here much longer, she will not last long."
There was no doubting the veracity of his words.
Cassy looked troubled."But my dear, where shall we take her? She cannot travel far."
"Certainly not, there is only one possible place, Cassy; your father's town house at Portman Square is the only one I can recommend. There is no one staying there at the moment; it is warm and well appointed with all the conveniences, in salubrious surroundings, with easy access to doctors and the hospital, if need be. There are also servants aplenty, who could fetch and carry for you, without poor Susan having to do it all herself. After all, Josie is still Julian's wife and you can take the responsibility to move her there and inform your father. Mr Darcy is a compassionate man; he will have no objection, I will stake my life upon it," he replied.
Cassy realised from his words as well as the gravity of his countenance that she had to act fast and asked Susan to pack.
"Should we not send a message to Uncle Julian, too?" Lizzie asked, anxiously.
"All in good time, my dear," replied her father."Once we have Josie out of here and settled in at Portman Square, there will be time to inform Julian. I have no doubt at all that he will return at once."
Arrangements were made to pay the outstanding bills, which included rent, charges for food, which Josie had not eaten, and a laundry bill which was laughable, considering the state of the bed linen; but at last, it was done and Josie, wrapped up warmly in a travelling rug, was carried out to the carriage, in which she, with Susan and Lizzie, were driven slowly to the Darcys' town house, while Richard and Cassy went ahead in a hansom cab.
Once at the house, Cassy gave orders for a room to be made ready, selecting one of the warmest and lightest rooms in the place, and when Josie arrived, she was taken there with all care. Susan prepared to bathe and change her ailing mistress and help her into clean nightclothes and a freshly made bed, a luxury she had not known for weeks, while Richard went out to the apothecary to obtain the medication she needed, if she was to have any chance of recovery.
They stayed with her a week, during which time they sent urgent messages to Pemberley, to Mr and Mrs Tate, and to Julian Darcy at an address in France. Initially, Josie seemed to respond to the medication, care, and pleasant surroundings in which she found herself. But in truth, she made little progress, remaining pale and weak, with no appetite for even the most delectable food.
Richard had begun to suspect tuberculosis, deep seated in her lungs, and his suspicions were unhappily confirmed by a colleague at the hospital, whose opinion he sought.
Lizzie and Cassandra were inconsolable on being told the prognosis, unable to accept that everything that had been done to recover her might prove to be in vain. It took all of Richard's understanding and patient explanation to persuade them that it was not for lack of action or care on their part that Josie was deemed to be beyond recovery.
He explained that her affliction probably had far deeper roots, though it may have been exacerbated by the deprivation and misery of the last few months.
Julian Darcy arrived first, very early one morning, having travelled over two days and nights from France. When his brother-in-law explained Josie's condition, he at first refused to believe it, but gradually accepting the inevitable, stayed with her constantly, reading to her, telling her of his work, and assuring her she was going to get well.
When he came downstairs, Cassy could not bear to see the grief in his eyes. Yet when he was with his wife, he would cheer up and persuade her to take her food and medication, as though she was well on the way to recovery. She responded well, too, giving him hope.
Soon afterwards, Mrs Tate and a nurse from Matlock came to join Cassy, who had decided to stay on, while Lizzie and Richard returned home.
The latter had done all he could, leaving his patient now in the care of one of the best physicians at St Thomas's Hospital, who visited daily.
Lizzie went reluctantly, but knew that there was not a great deal more she could do for Josie, now Mrs Tate was here.
Cassy remained because, as Mr Darcy's daughter, she had the authority to give orders and get things done at the house, like no one else could; besides, she felt her brother needed her.
Cassy had written her parents a letter that Elizabeth and Darcy read many times over, trying to glean some hope in the midst of the gloom.
She wrote:
Dearest Mama and Papa,
It is with a heavy heart that I write, though we have been rejoicing at our success in discovering poor Josie and taking her back to Portman Square, from such a place as you would never have dreamed to have found a member of our family. I shall spare you the awful details, for I am sure Richard will tell you more; suffice it to say that she is gravely ill with tuberculosis and, though it breaks my heart to say this, she is not expected to live beyond a few months.
Since we have been here, however, she is much more cheerful and eats a little better. Her faithful maid Susan attends her night and day. Josie never complains. Best news of all is that Julian is here, having travelled for days and nights across
from France, and dear Mama, you should have seen her face when he walked into the room. My dear brother has suffered much, but he is a good, kind man and has completely forgiven Josie and will not say a word against her.
Cassy's letter concluded with the hope that she would see them in London, soon. Mr Darcy and Elizabeth decided they would go to London immediately; Elizabeth was determined to go, even though it was almost Winter and she hated London in the Winter cold.
Before setting out, however, Mr Darcy paid a visit to Anthony Tate, to plead with him to accompany them to London.
"I believe you must go, Tate. Julian is there; he has come from France and if he can forgive, so can you. You cannot turn your face from your daughter now; remember she may not have long to live."
Mr Tate was shocked by his words."How is that? Do they not have the best doctors and the best medicines in London? No one has told me that my daughter will die!" he thundered.
Clearly, Mrs Tate had omitted this fact in her letter to her husband, or he had not read it through. On hearing it from Mr Darcy, he flew into a temper, cursed everybody including the government and the entire medical profession, and told Darcy he would be ready to leave in an hour.
Mr Darcy returned to Pemberley and, even before he spoke, his wife knew he had succeeded, where everyone else had failed to persuade Anthony Tate to see his daughter.
"He will come, my dear, but he is a very angry man. You will need to be patient with him. His disappointment and sorrow are so great, he cannot bear it and can only react with rage, even though he is unable to find the right people to blame and so rails against everybody."
Elizabeth knew how very hurt Mr Darcy had been by Josie's actions and could understand how much greater must be a father's grief.
* * *
A week or two later, there was some good news; Cassandra wrote that Josie was in much better spirits after the arrival of her father and the Darcys and was now anxious to see her son. This time, it was entirely up to Lizzie; her brother Darcy was away in Derby and her father was attending a dying patient in Chesterfield, whom he could not leave even for a day.
Mr. Darcy's Daughter Page 20
