Darcy's Journey

by M. A. Sandiford

  Darcy had asked Madame Villeneuve to take in Corporal Harold Dunne, hoping that his condition might improve under her excellent care. The trip from the field hospital, during the battle, had been so rough that it was surprising the corporal had survived the day. Since then, he had lain in constant discomfort from a cough, as well as difficulty in breathing. His wife, also badly shaken up, had spent two long days in labour, becoming so weak that she had sadly passed away after delivery of a baby boy.

  Reaching Merbe Braine, Darcy learned that the situation had taken another turn for the worse: he found Madame Villeneuve distressed, and her patient dead.

  Darcy went to the tiny bedroom, once occupied by his cousin, and saw the corporal laid out. He asked what had happened, his French now good enough to follow the answer. Corporal Dunne had always wanted a boy, planning to hand down his own name, Harold; but news of his wife’s death had soured what should have been a happy event, and he had faded rapidly.

  Arrangements were made. Two patients could be taken to Brussels; the villagers would bury Corporal Dunne and his wife in a brief ceremony. The baby was brought out—a plump little fellow with a square wrinkled face—and consigned to Darcy’s care. Luckily Burgess was ferrying another wife back to the city; she agreed to take the baby so that Darcy could ride ahead.

  Elizabeth cradled the baby, now wrapped in a clean white shawl. ‘So sad. What can we do?’

  It was nearly six o’clock—dinner hour in the de Crécy household—and they were in the salon. Darcy poured two glasses of sherry from a decanter. ‘Responsibility is not ours, since Corporal Dunne was in the 71st Foot. However, it was I that brought Dunne to Merbe Braine, and he hailed from a village named Rodmersham in Kent—no great distance from our route into London. If you agree, I would like to take the infant there, and search for relatives who might adopt him.’

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘I will be happy to look after him.’

  ‘We can find a nursemaid to accompany us.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I know of several Englishwomen who find themselves stranded here after their menfolk left, or fell in the battle. For instance, among the camp followers in the 52nd was a woman named Martha Briggs, who helped with repairing the road as well as nursing.’

  Elizabeth looked up. ‘Rosie’s mother! I met her at the field hospital. What happened to her husband?’

  ‘He marched off unscathed towards Paris. Mrs Briggs stayed behind because she wanted to return home. She is working in Brussels while the 52nd organises her transport. Burgess has her address.’

  ‘Perfect! Let us ask her immediately.’

  ‘I’ll put Burgess on the job.’ Darcy watched her dandle the baby, moved by the domesticity of the scene. ‘I hope that in a few days we can leave for Ostend. Colonel Fitzwilliam is fast improving.’

  ‘And Mr Wickham?’

  ‘Will have to stay several weeks longer. The Viscount offered to keep him here until there is room at the Minimes. After that, the First Yorkshires can look after him.’

  Elizabeth looked away, her eyes moist. ‘It is an absurd thing to say, but I shall be sorry to go.’

  He nodded. ‘The experience of a lifetime.’

  ‘Yes.’ She regarded him earnestly. ‘I am so grateful that you allowed me to play my part.’

  ‘We were desperately short. Whatever my misgivings, it was necessary. For the men.’

  She whispered, ‘For me too.’

  54

  Tuesday 4th July 5pm

  Elizabeth dozed as their hired carriage passed through the Kentish countryside towards Rodmersham, home of Corporal and Mrs Dunne. The crossing from Ostend to Ramsgate had taken 24 hours, during which she had suffered continuously from seasickness and not slept at all. Opposite, Martha Briggs and Rosie also looked pale, and Colonel Fitzwilliam weary, although he had not been sick. Only Darcy and Burgess seemed unaffected—and also, thankfully, the baby.

  They had set off on Friday morning after an emotional parting from the de Crécys. The dramatic aftermath of the battle had forged a bond strong as a family tie, especially with Lorraine, whom she now counted as one of her closest friends. She thought often of the tall, graceful, plain young woman, not gifted like Alice Dill or Hilda Edelmann, but kind and courageous—and such fun when she let her hair down in private. Lorraine had agreed to write, and also to visit, once teasing Elizabeth that they might meet up in Derbyshire …

  There had been no more discussion of marriage. So far as the Viscount and Colonel Fitzwilliam were concerned, she and Darcy were presumed betrothed. Between themselves, matters had not advanced since their conversation in the Tyrol: it was acknowledged that they were in love, but they would display discretion and sobriety, as demanded by the Book of Common Prayer, and reconsider their future after the journey. Well, they should talk it over before reaching London—if they could only find a calm moment of privacy.

  At Rodmersham they stopped at St Nicholas Church, and Elizabeth accompanied Darcy to enquire at the Vicarage. The housekeeper perked up as soon as they mentioned the Dunnes. Of course, at Baker Cottage. Near the green. Yes, there was a son, Harold, in the army. Married to Kitty Farr last year. No children, one on the way. Why …

  Darcy replied noncommittally that he needed to speak with the parents on a private matter.

  At Baker cottage they found Mrs Dunne and confided the sad news. The corporal’s mother was a sturdy down-to-earth woman, and her initial reaction was stoical: having received no letter since before the battle, she already feared the worst. But her restraint dissolved in tears when Elizabeth brought forward the child, and placed it in her arms. Darcy stayed to talk with her, satisfying himself that she was the person best placed to take over responsibility.

  As they left, a storm broke; luckily there was an inn yards away across the village green with a comfy interior, and aromas of mutton pie from the kitchen. As they ate, Darcy leaned over and whispered: ‘Elizabeth, we will not reach London tonight in such weather.’

  ‘Perhaps it will clear.’

  ‘I see no sign of it. We are also tired after the crossing. I know you have misgivings, but I think it best that we stay overnight at Rosings.’

  She stared at him. Darcy had informed Lady Catherine by letter that he and Colonel Fitzwilliam were well, and on their way back to England; he had omitted any reference to Elizabeth.

  ‘Misgivings hardly covers it. We both know how your aunt would react if she knew what had passed between us these last months. I cannot ask hospitality of her.’

  ‘You can stay with the Collinses.’

  ‘And when her ladyship finds out? Her wrath will descend on poor Charlotte like the seven last plagues.’

  Darcy sighed. ‘I’m afraid my aunt’s ire must be faced by all of us, sooner or later.’ He touched her arm. ‘Come, after all we have endured, we can survive the rants of Lady Catherine.’

  They reached Rosings two hours after sundown. The rain had abated, but with the sky still overcast there was no moonlight. Reluctantly Elizabeth accepted that Darcy was right: navigating the lane to Hunsford was hard enough, let alone the road to London.

  At last she recognised the laurel hedge and the familiar garden sloping up to the parsonage, where candlelight still glowed in a front room. A maid-of-all-work stood in the doorway, peering anxiously through the gloom; on recognising Elizabeth she gasped, and disappeared within to summon Mrs Collins.

  ‘Lizzy, what a surprise!’ Charlotte pointed to the upper floor, continuing in a whisper. ‘Mr Collins is abed; he rises early, you know.’ She saw Darcy coming up the path, and bowed. ‘Good evening, sir.’

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Collins, and forgive our sudden intrusion.’ Darcy also kept his voice low. ‘It is a lot to ask, but can you offer Miss Bennet a bed for the night? I will proceed with Colonel Fitzwilliam to Rosings.’

  Charlotte looked back and forth from Darcy to Elizabeth, in great confusion. ‘You are always welcome here, Lizzy. But how …’

  Darcy smiled. ‘Have n
o fear, Mrs Collins: Lady Catherine will approve. I shall see to that.’ He turned to Elizabeth. ‘I will call late tomorrow morning. We all need to catch up on sleep.’

  The carriage left, and Elizabeth followed Charlotte to the parlour while the maid prepared refreshment.

  ‘Lizzy, what can this mean? There are rumours you have been seen at a ball in Brussels with Mr Darcy and the colonel. Lady Catherine was beside herself and demanded that I should explain! I had only your letter …’

  ‘From Verona?’

  ‘Exactly! You said you had joined a party returning to England, attended concerts, toured Roman ruins. Was Mr Darcy in the party?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Dear Charlotte, it is wrong for me to remain here tonight …’

  Charlotte shook her head firmly. ‘Why? Mr Darcy has assured me that her ladyship will raise no objection. Anyway, where else can you go?’

  ‘Should we inform Mr Collins?’

  ‘Wake him now? Certainly not.’ Charlotte kneeled at her side. ‘Lizzy, you are exhausted. Ellen is preparing hot toddies with brandy and honey. The chamber you used before is made up; she will bring your drink there. We can talk in the morning.’

  55

  Breakfast at Rosings was an ample meal served at nine thirty. The table was laid with boiled eggs, kept warm by woollen caps, dishes of bacon and cold meats, smoked haddock, rolls and other breads, preserves, tea, coffee and hot chocolate. It was Lady Catherine’s habit to enter at exactly the time ordained—and Darcy’s to arrive earlier, so that he could pass an agreeable ten minutes in conversation with Anne or Colonel Fitzwilliam, without constant interruption from her ladyship.

  Anne de Bourgh was in her late twenties, just a year younger than Darcy. She looked as she usually did: pale, thin, a little puffy. With every passing year, a look of defeat etched deeper in her once pretty features. He felt a certain guilt: perhaps he should have forced the issue of their so-called betrothal into the open long ago, leaving Lady Catherine no alternative but to seek another suitor. He had hoped that this would be achieved by his own marriage. Unfortunately the years had slipped by in fruitless search, and when he had at last fallen in love, he had been rejected …

  Anne’s best chance, he believed, was that fate would separate her from her mother. He asked what she was reading, when she had last been in town, whether she had made new friends. Every question was met with the briefest possible answer. He kept trying, but it was almost a relief when Lady Catherine swept in.

  ‘The wanderers have returned.’ She sat at the end of the table, opposite Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Johnson, where are the brown rolls? I asked particularly that we should have a choice of white or brown. Have the eggs been boiled four minutes?’

  The servant bowed. ‘Yes ma’am.’

  ‘We shall see. It is of the utmost importance that the timing be precise. Well Darcy! I have been hearing most disturbing reports.’

  Darcy raised his eyebrows. ‘Good morning, aunt. You refer no doubt to the injuries my cousin sustained in the battle. He is too modest to say so, but you should know that his regiment performed magnificently against Bonaparte’s elite troops.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam waved this away. ‘Let us not alarm the ladies, Darce.’ He turned to Anne. ‘My wounds were minor, and I am now fully recovered.’

  ‘I am gratified to hear it.’ Lady Catherine cried. ‘But I was speaking of quite another matter. I suppose you realise, Darcy, that your indiscretions are openly discussed in the ton. I heard from Lady Frances Webster, who is such a gossip that by now everyone will know. I tried my best to limit the damage, but …’ She threw up her hands. ‘There is only one remedy. We must announce your engagement to Anne in The Times immediately.’

  Darcy broke the top of an egg, taking his time so as to conceal his irritation. ‘I have not the pleasure of understanding you. We met Lady Webster at a ball in Brussels, and enjoyed a pleasant conversation. I have known her husband since our schooldays.’

  ‘I refer, as you well know, to Mr Collins’s cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to whom I showed such gracious condescension during her visit last year, considering that she is a young lady of no consequence. Imagine my shock on learning that you had not only accompanied Miss Bennet to a ball, but danced with her twice! To pay such attentions, to such a woman, when betrothed to another!’ She shivered, as if insects were crawling over her skin. ‘I told Lady Webster that she must be mistaken. But no, she was quite sure; she regarded me with that supercilious smile of hers, revelling in her superior information. For shame, sir! That I should have to humiliate myself before that frightful woman, that shameless wanton, to undo the harm you have done, and preserve the good name of the family.’

  Darcy sipped coffee, allowing this intemperate outburst to hang in the air, its absurdity, he hoped, manifest. ‘You will excuse me if my sympathy is muted, aunt. It is embarrassing, I know, when an acquaintance is better informed on family affairs than you are. However, a little embarrassment is easily borne.’ He turned to indicate Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Your nephew fought bravely at Waterloo and survived only by luck. Miss Bennet, whom you hold in such low esteem, worked for over a week tending to wounded officers and men. She is a remarkable and lovely woman, and her husband, when she marries, will be fortunate indeed. As to whether I shall be that man …’ He sighed. ‘I cannot say. When I know, you will be told.’

  Lady Catherine stared at him, her mouth wide open as if frozen in the act of speaking. Eventually she spluttered, ‘Miss Bennet … worked … as a nurse?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were there no servants in Brussels?’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed. ‘You should understand, aunt, that after a major battle thousands of men need urgent treatment. Hospitals are overwhelmed. Local servants, if available at all, speak no English. Miss Bennet, like Darce, threw herself into the breach, earning our admiration as well as our gratitude.’

  Lady Catherine shook her head, momentarily speechless. ‘I never heard anything more disgraceful.’

  There was a frosty silence. Darcy observed Anne, following intently and obviously shocked. Perhaps they had been too explicit in describing the horrors of war—or perhaps a dose of reality would help Anne grow up: who could tell?

  Lady Catherine slapped the table. ‘Where is Miss Bennet now? Has she returned to Hertfordshire?’

  ‘She spent the night at Hunsford.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Lady Catherine summoned a servant. ‘Tell Mr and Mrs Collins that they are to come here immediately. You hear? Immediately. Not Miss Bennet. She is to remain behind. I will not have her at Rosings.’

  Darcy made no protest. He had finally made his feelings plain to Anne. Lady Catherine had never listened to reason in her life, and would scarcely begin now. If the Collinses came to Rosings, an opportunity presented itself. It was time to talk with Elizabeth in private.

  56

  He walked the half-mile to Hunsford in the morning sunshine. The park railings, laurel hedge, gate, door-bell, all reminded him of a similar mission 15 months before. A maid, the same one, answered the door. Of course, Elizabeth might not be in. She would be tempted to take advantage of the weather and roam the park. But no: he was led to the same room, and announced.

  Elizabeth was seated at a window, writing in her journal. She rose as he entered, and they waited in silence as the maid’s footsteps receded.

  She smiled, breaking the spell. ‘Disturbing, is it not?’

  ‘The stage is unchanged; the players, I hope, have advanced in understanding.’

  ‘Did you pass Mr and Mrs Collins on your way here?’

  ‘I left just as they were arriving.’

  ‘Mr Collins is in such a flap! I fear they are about to suffer the sharp edge of her ladyship’s tongue—and on my account.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth. This is my fault.’

  ‘Did you speak with your aunt?’

  He nodded. ‘News of the ball has reached London, and her reaction, as y
ou may imagine, was abusive. I concealed nothing. She knows we have been travelling together. She knows my feelings in your regard; and so does Miss de Bourgh.’

  She eyed him impishly. ‘Are you going to tell me too?’

  He looked doubtfully around the room. ‘We must talk. But not here.’

  ‘How about the park?’

  After strolling through a copse, talking inconsequentially, they reached a clearing where a bench, partially shaded, overlooked a pond. Elizabeth closed her parasol, and they sat side by side.

  ‘We must leave today for London,’ Darcy said. ‘All of us, Colonel Fitzwilliam too. Despite his protestations, he needs to convalesce in a peaceful well-ordered household, and he will not find that here with my aunt in a frenzy.’

  ‘And once we reach London? I assume I will stay with my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, and leave for Longbourn the next day.’

  ‘I was hoping you would come first to Darcy House, so that I could introduce you to my sister.’

  ‘I am eager to meet her.’

  ‘She will be curious as to the, ah, relationship between us.’ He smiled. ‘I must admit to an interest in that very point myself.’

  ‘Aha!’ She dealt him a sly grin. ‘You are about to reveal those feelings that you have already admitted to Lady Catherine.’

  ‘My feelings are as they were last year, except that now they are based on secure knowledge rather than early impressions.’

  ‘You have found out how scatter-brained I am?’

  He smiled. ‘Perhaps, but also that you are courageous, conscientious, compassionate, and remarkably well-read. My only doubt is whether I am worthy of you.’