The Dread Mr. Darcy

by Valerie Lennox

  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 would.”

  “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.”

  Elizabeth longed to tell him that this wasn’t true, that she and the doctor were actually conspiring to lessen his dependency. But she feared that it would throw him into a rage. That it would backfire, and he would simply eat more of the opium than he ever had.

  The doctor said they must wait a little longer before telling him. He said that once they had reached an appreciable threshold, then Darcy might feel that he had made an accomplishment. Going backwards would be less appealing to him at that point, or so the doctor theorized.

  Darcy began drinking liquor again, in the stead of drinking more laudanum. That, coupled with the fact that he was getting more alcohol in the laudanum itself, led to his being drunk and maudlin on most evenings.

  But occasionally, his drinking seemed to lift his spirits, at least for a short period of time, anyway. One such afternoon, he had been hitting the brandy bottle rather liberally, and he found her in her own bedchamber, discussing the laundering of the bedsheets with one of the servants.

  He leaned against the doorway and gave her an insouciant grin, and he almost looked like his old self. “Mrs. Shockey, is it?”

  The servant turned to face him. “Oh,” she said, putting a fluttering hand to her chest. “Mr. Darcy up and about. How wonderful.”

  Darcy winked at her. “Mrs. Shockey, I need to speak to my wife alone.”

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Shockey, already leaving the room. “Begging your pardon, sir.”

  Once she was gone, Darcy shut the door and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. “How long have we been married, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Elizabeth, coming over to him. “What has gotten into you?” She was smiling. “Not that I don’t like it, but—”

  “Has it been weeks?”

  “Months, sir,” she said, shaking her head at him.

  “Months?” He raised his eyebrows. “Certainly not.”

  “Indeed,” said Elizabeth, stopping in front of him. She smiled wider.

  “I have quite a bit to make up for then, I suppose,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about that now.” She patted his shoulder. “You are rarely well enough to get up and about. You must take it slow—” But she broke off in a yelp, because he had pushed away from the door and gathered her up into his arms. Her feet dangled off the floor. “Mr. Darcy, what are you doing?” she cried.

  He propelled her back across the room and deposited her on her bed. “It’s only,” he said, his voice husky now, “that I was suddenly taken by the very strong desire for my wife, which it occurs to me I have been neglecting.”

  “It is daylight!” She propped herself up on her elbows.

  He gently shoved her back. “All the better to see your beauty.”

  “Mr. Darcy!” And now she was laughing, and she had not felt quite so happy in a very long time.

  He had her out of her dress in minutes flat, had her back on the bed in her chemise and stockings, and he was yanking his shirt over his head, climbing up there with her.

  His lips found hers.

  She clung to him. They had not so much as kissed in a very long time. This was… she had not dared to hope for something like this.

  “I owe you pleasure,” he murmured, pushing her chemise up to her thighs, baring the secret parts of her. “I have shown you too much pain. I want you to have one good thought of me.”

  “Mr. Darcy, of course I have good thoughts of you.” She was breathless. The air was touching her bare thighs, her bare sex.

  He pushed her chemise higher, and he ran his fingers over her nipples, teasing them stiff.

  She gasped.

  He kissed her. “God, you are beautiful. How have I not been worshiping this beauty every second? I must be mad not to have touched you yet.”

  She sighed. She pulled his face down, kissed him hard.

  One of his hands traveled down her body, skimming over the slight curve of her belly, down between her thighs, to the very center of her. He fumbled for a moment. “Pardon me, madam, but if you’ll only give me a moment—”

  She seized his hand and guided him to the proper spot. She had not spent all those nights thinking of him with her own hands on her body not to have discovered a bit about how to bring herself pleasure. “There.”

  He grinned at her. “My deepest thanks, Mrs. Darcy.”

  She shuddered. “Oh, say it again. Call me that again.”

  His lips on her ear lobe. “Mrs. Darcy.” On her cheekbone. “Mrs. Darcy.” On her jaw. “Mrs. Darcy.” And all the while his fingers stroked and nudged and teased her, working her into a frenzy.

  She moaned. “That’s nice,” she whispered.

  “Just nice?” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not doing it right, then.”

  “Oh, no, it’s very lovely. Please don’t stop.”

  “Not for the world.” He put his mouth to her breasts, suckling one nipple after another, making them round and hard pebbles against her soft skin.

  She arched her back, her eyes closed. She whimpered.

  “Ah,” he breathed. “I could watch you like this all day. You are beautiful, bared to me like this, surrendering to me like this.”

  She grasped fistfuls of the covers. She began to writhe. “Darcy…” She could hardly get the words out. “Fitzwilliam.”

  “Let it go, my love,” he whispered to her, continuing his slow, smooth strokes.

  She had brought herself thus before, of course, but it had never been like this. She could not believe how good this was, how intense. She was overcome. She was destroyed. She twisted in pleasure, unbridled noises ripping through her lips, writhing and bucking against his fingers.

&
nbsp; And then she hit the brink of it, the height of her pleasure, and she went to pieces.

  The shocks and tremors built to an apex and then began to ebb out, and he was looking down at himself in something like wonder.

  “What?” she whispered.

  He undid his trousers, freeing himself.

  “You are…?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Somehow…”

  She thrust her tongue into his mouth. “I want you now,” she said in a thick voice. “Now, Fitzwilliam.”

  “Oh, God, yes,” he muttered. He shed his trousers and settled against her hips. Her body cradled him, and he slipped into her, easily gliding deeply inside, burying himself to the hilt. He groaned softly.

  She looked into his eyes, and they began to move together.

  And for one glorious moment, everything was perfect.

  * * *

  But after, he fell asleep and stayed asleep for hours. She got up and read for a bit. When he woke, he was disoriented.

  He clutched his head. “Why am I in your bedchamber?”

  “You don’t remember?” she said.

  “No, I remember drinking brandy,” he said. “A lot of brandy. God, I want some laudanum.” He sat up, rubbing his forehead. “What happened to my clothes?”

  “Darcy, you and I, we, um… that is… you really don’t remember?”

  He gazed at her. “I remember nothing. Did I undress myself? What did I say to you? Dear Lord, I didn’t harm you, did I?”

  “No,” she laughed. “Quite the opposite. We were… together. You must understand my meaning?”

  He laughed bitterly. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not a joke.”

  He staggered to his feet. “Where is the laudanum? If you care for me at all, you’ll find some.”

  And so, more months passed.

  Elizabeth continued, with the aid of the doctor, to step down the laudanum, but Darcy was increasing his intake, drinking more and more, and hating himself for his weakness. She was afraid her attempt was a failure.

  But she did not feel that she could stop, because she now had a very important reason to get Darcy off the dreaded stuff.