by Ted Bader
“What was the difference?”
“I do not know, my son. God always answers prayers, but sometimes it is in the negative.”
“But, if Sarah dies, I will be a murderer.”
“No, Andrew, you will not be. Yes, you were disobedient and share part of the responsibility; however, the final outcome is in the Lord’s hands. That is a far cry from desiring her death and trying to bring it about.”
Andrew buried his face against his father’s strong chest. He knew that his father had done all he could to prevent Sarah from contracting the disease and had called in the surgeon at the first sign of fever. There in his fathers arms, he began to feel that, perhaps, his prayers had been heard. If God was truly even more loving than an earthly father, then He could be trusted to care for Sarah.
A somber mood reigned over the inhabitants of Pemberley for the next four days as Sarah’s fever raged. On the fifth day, her fever broke and the exhausted Mrs. Bingley was uncertain if her barely responsive child was on the verge of death or recovery. The surgeon came to see how his patient was faring.
The medical man entered with a pessimistic look and examined the now pox-covered child. After a minute, he began to smile. Turning to the anxious parents, sitting on the other side of the bed, he said, “I believe she is going to make it.”
A jubilant Charles Bingley hugged his wife and then ran out the door to spread the good news.
Jane Bingley bowed her head and began to cry. The surgeon waited until Mrs. Bingley had regained her composure and then continued, “I do not know how many scars will be left on her face and body as a result of this infection.”
“I do not care about scars,” Mrs. Bingley interrupted, “God has spared my child.”
“You will want to bathe her face three or four times a day with warm milk and water to help reduce the scarring.”
At dinner the following day, Jane Bingley finally joined the rest of her family at the table.
Elizabeth remarked, “It is very good to see you down here taking your meal.”
Her sister replied, “I am glad Sarah has begun to sip broth and speak a little to me. I feel she is well enough that I can leave her for a few moments.”
The family ate quietly for awhile and then Jane Bingley looked lovingly at her elder nephew and said, “Sarah is asking to see you, Andrew.”
“Do you think I should?” replied Andrew as he looked back and forth from his aunt’s face to his mother’s.
Mrs. Darcy replied, “It is your decision, son; but, I cannot imagine anyone refusing a request from dear Sarah.”
Andrew drew in a breath, “I should very much like to see her, but I do not wish to upset her. . . it is my fault she contracted the pox.”
Mrs. Bingley smiled reassuringly, “Neither Sarah, nor anyone else, blames you Andrew. She did what she wanted to do.”
“Than I shall visit her.”
After the evening meal, Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley escorted Andrew to the upstairs sickroom. Upon reaching the door, Andrew walked behind his mother and aunt until they reached the bedside. The women turned sideways and revealed an expectant Sarah, who was sitting up and sipping a cup of tea.
Andrew had not expected Sarah’s face to be entirely covered with pox blisters. What he had previously considered as a pretty face, was now horrific.
Sarah sensed his discomfort and tried to cheerfully say, “I am feeling much better than I look.”
Before she even finished her statement, Andrew turned and ran from the room screaming, “It’s all my fault.”
Mrs. Darcy went to the door and commanded, “Andrew, come back.”
Whether he heard or not, he did not return.
Sarah began crying as her mother placed loving arms around her. As her sobbing subsided, she asked, “Mother, may I have a mirror?”
“It is not much different than when you looked yesterday.”
“Will these pox marks ever go away?”
“The doctor said that most, if not all, will likely disappear.”
“What if they do not?”
“We will still love you as much or more--any remaining marks will only remind us how precious you are to us and how close we came to losing you. Love is more important than beauty.”
“But, mother, Andrew hates me. . . .”
Elizabeth interrupted, “I am sure Andrew does not hate you.” She sat down on Sarah’s bed and took the girl’s hand. “He feels so guilty over his disobedience and his part in causing your sickness, that it hurts him to see you still suffering the effects of the pox.”
Sarah brightened a bit, “I hope I recover completely so we can be friends again.”
Over the ensuing weeks, Sarah regained her health. The pox disfigurement slowly healed, with the exception of one large scar over her left temple. With gentle help from her mother, she soon learned to comb her hair over the lesion; and, while this hairstyle was not always fashionable, it served to preserve her reputation as being handsome in a pleasing way.
The following year changed her life even more. Her home, Bingley Hall in Yorkshire, had possessed a somber atmosphere for several months during her mother’s, Mrs. Jane Bingley’s, illness. Servants whispered and her father, Charles Bingley, was quiet and moody. Sarah grew alarmed at the change, as she considered her mother and father to be the happiest, jolliest people in the world.
The night before the death of her mother, Sarah was called to the bedside. She would never forget the hollow face of her mother. She always wanted to remember the beautiful woman in the magnificent green dress, wearing the elegant necklace, portrayed in the picture displayed in the family gallery.
Her mother said in a weak voice, as she drew her youngest daughter to her, “I will not live much longer. There, there, do not cry, Sarah. The redeemer has a place prepared for me and all those who follow him.” She paused and drew a deep, ragged breath before continuing, “Please promise your mother you will always think the best of people and choose goodness.”
“I will, Mama,” was all the reply Sarah could make before she buried her face in her mother’s gown.
“Remember,” her mother continued, “that cultivation of the mind and virtues of the heart will lead to personal loveliness.” Continuing her hold on Sarah, she drew Laura near.
“Laura, you are richly endowed with the dangerous gift of beauty; hitherto, you have escaped from the snares of folly and frivolity. My heart’s prayer for you is that you may be safe from the dangers that await you, in the passions of others, and in the tenderness of your own heart.”
“I will try to be good, mother,” Laura sobbed.
Two days later, as Sarah watched the casket borne by pallbearers go down the avenue and turn right, she felt her mother had departed from her forever. Her father never recovered from his broken heart and he seemed to just dwindle away. He died just a few years later.
Chapter Four
The next morning, the Darcy offspring arrived at the embassy. Sir Thomas, Georgiana and Sarah were at the carriage to greet Maria, Andrew, and John as they stepped down.
Maria descended first and moved to hug her aunt and uncle. “I have missed you both so much.” Looking between the twosome, she said, “I see you still glow with love for each other.”
Georgiana pulled back, “Are you not a little old to be so impertinent?”
“Without my ‘impertinence’, you two would have never gotten together,” Maria laughed. “Besides, now that you are not close by to tutor me, mother says there is little hope of my becoming a refined lady.”
Then, another feminine voice was heard, as Laura Bingley stepped down to a surprised receiving group. “So, I decided to come along and see that she behaved herself properly.”
Reaching out to hug Laura, Georgiana said, “We did not expect that you were coming; but, it is a delightful surprise.”
Laura replied, “I found out about the trip and decided to tag along at the last minute. I have so wanted to see the elegance of Paris for myself.”
She turned to Sarah and said, “Are you taking advantage of everything this romantic city has to offer? You must tell me all the details of the wonderful things you have done here.”
“Actually, I have done very little other than helping in the embassy.”
“Just what I suspected,” Laura replied in a superior tone. “It looks like I shall have to lead the way to fashion and favor.”
By this time, Andrew and John were out of the carriage. Andrew said, “Uncle Thomas, it is most pleasing to visit you. I hope we will not burden you too much.”
“Not at all,” Sir Thomas replied. Then he added with a smile, “Of course, I am assuming that John has outgrown his propensity for pulling pranks.”
John put on a very serious face, “Why Uncle Thomas, why ever would you worry about such a thing. I have certainly matured beyond childish behavior.” As he reached out to briefly hug Thomas, he added, “Besides, if you recall, I learned at an early age that it was not wise to play tricks on you. You are better at it than I am.”
John moved on to acknowledge Sarah. “It is good to meet you again, cousin.”
“Thank you,” Sarah replied as she curtsied.
Andrew seemed a little stiffer as he repeated his brother’s greeting.
The group moved into the embassy entrance. Sir Thomas said, “We have an authoress among us. One of Sarah’s poem will soon be published.”
Maria went to congratulate her cousin, when Laura said abruptly, “It is not good for a woman to appear to have a mind and a heart. If you show yourself too clever, no man will ever want you.” Then, turning to Georgiana, she asked, “Do you not agree, Auntie?”
“I beg to differ, my dear Laura. A woman may be accomplished in whatever she wishes.”
As the group followed their hosts upstairs, Sarah was vexed with her older sister. Laura was vain and almost cruel at times. It was displeasing to see Maria and Laura on such intimate acquaintance. Maria evidenced her mother, Elizabeth’s liveliness; yet, she did not seem to have inherited either parent’s good sense. Sarah hoped that being in close quarters with Laura for a prolonged period would not adversely affect Maria.
Maria then asked her aunt, “Is there to be an embassy ball tomorrow night?”
“Yes, just a small one to welcome you to Paris.”
Maria and Laura then said in unison, “I cannot wait for it.”
Laura added, “To think, my first ball in the city of romance. How exciting. I brought the most enchanting dress, Auntie; but, I shall certainly want to meet with a Parisian seamstress later in the week to order more sophisticated gowns.” She paused before the small mirror as they climbed the remaining stairs, “Indeed,” she murmured, “with the right gowns to accent my fine attributes, the gentlemen of Paris will not be able to resist.”
The next evening, the embassy ballroom was once again brightly lit. Madame Duval stood with Laura, Maria and Sarah as the arriving guests were greeted by the Staleys.
Madame Duval said, in nearly accent-free English, “I am afraid, girls, that there will be few beaux for you to entice tonight.”
Maria had readily warmed to Madame Duval, because of her friendliness and constant talk about the opposite sex. She wished to hear more and asked, “Is anyone coming we would be interested in?”
“I am aware of a handsome young French officer, Lieutenant Fabry who will come as an aide to my cousin. Then to Maria she added, “You must not look so eager, my young friend.”
Maria blushed, “Oh, but I would like to dance with him.”
“Be assured, I will introduce you.”
“Now, for you Miss Laura and Miss Sarah, I have not heard of any other. However, there are two handsome young men approaching us now.”
Andrew and John neared the group. Laura said, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the brothers, “Oh, they are just country bumpkins. I wish to meet the quality men of Paris.”
“If that is so, you may have to wait for another night,” was the elder woman’s reply.
Andrew bowed and asked Laura “Would you favor me with the first dance?”
Laura haughtily replied, “I am sorry, but I believe I will not dance this evening.”
Without any change in his expression, he turned to Sarah. She looked down, but her hand automatically reached up to make sure her hair was pulled forward correctly.
“Would you, Miss Sarah, favor me?”
Sarah smiled and nodded affirmatively.
At that moment, the group turned to see two officers, dressed in French blue, striding towards them from the reception line. The lieutenant approached Madame Duval. He, and the officer with him, stopped to bow. “Madame Duval and company, allow me to introduce my comrade, Captain Wiley.”
As Madame Duval introduced the young women, she brought Maria forward. Lieutenant Fabry, with a flair, then asked Maria, “Would the lovely young English woman favor me with the first dance?”
Maria tried to act as though she had done this many times before and replied, “I have nothing else to do.”
Captain Wiley bowed before Laura, “May I have the honor of dancing with the brightest jewel in the room tonight?”
Laura willingly extended her arm as the Captain escorted her way. The dance was announced. As Andrew came to take Sarah’s hand, she quietly said, “I must apologize for my sister’s rudeness.”
Andrew replied, “It is not your affair. Your sister is her usual self. She has stayed much too long with Countess Westbrook.”
The dance began and during one of the face to face moves, Andrew looked at Sarah and said, “But, you are not your sister. You have always been much different.”
Sarah blushed and looked away.
Upon their next encounter, Andrew said, “Rose petals falling from my heart. . . .”
“Where have you heard that?” was Sarah’s immediate inquiry.
“I believe it is from your poem,” he answered as he moved close once again.
“How did you find that out?”
“You forget, you lent it to Uncle Thomas and I saw it on his desk. . . are you angry?”
“No, it will soon be published.”
“Congratulations.”
At the end of the dance Sarah felt the friendly grasp of Andrew’s hand. He said with an earnest look, “May I escort you to the veranda?”
Sarah held out her arm in assent. Arriving on the small porch which could only hold two comfortably. Andrew looked down and said, “It is a beautiful garden below us, is it not?”
“I see you are still very interested in plants and gardens.”
“Yes. I am. . . you must tell me all about Paris.”
“You forget, my cousin, that I have scarcely been here two months myself.” His presence put her at ease, so she continued, “We have been settling in. As you know, I am governess for the children and that takes up most of my time. I am also trying to improve my conversational skills in French. Sir Thomas has been a most patient instructor.”
Andrew turned and looked at her with a face that asked for mercy. “May we discuss a treaty of friendship?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I apologize for my blunder in causing your smallpox. . . Can you ever forgive me?” “You forget it was my own choice to be disobedient. . . I have longed to tell you so. I have missed our amiable times together.”
“Yes, yes, it is so for me also. . . whenever I see a foxglove I am reminded of your help long ago. . . . May we put our hands together in friendship?”
As they did so, Andrew and Sarah continued their movement towards each other, which ended in a prolonged mutual embrace during which Sarah cried softly and Andrew sighed deeply as he whispered his pledge of friendship to her.
After the next dance ceased, Andrew escorted Sarah back to a large table where the other young couples had returned. Andrew sat by John and Lieutenant Fabry. Andrew said to Lieutenant Fabry in halting French, “My brother and I are here. . . .”
The lieutenant held up his hand and said, “The
captain and I speak English.”
Andrew continued, “Ah. . . , as I was saying, we are here for the fencing tournament tomorrow. Though I have little chance of winning the prize, since my brother is the best swordsman in England.”
Captain Wiley stood, came to attention and clicked his heels. “It is an honor to meet my chief opponent, for many consider my swordplay to be of championship quality.”
John stood and extended his hand, “My brother exaggerates my abilities.”
“Not from what I have heard,” Captain Wiley said. “Your reputation has preceded you.”
At the end of the evening, Laura and Madame Duval were in conversation together as Andrew and John approached. John said to Laura, “Is Captain Wiley as much as you expect?”
“He provided a pleasant diversion this evening and is all right as far as junior officers go; however, I am looking for someone of higher quality.”
“Would you like to meet a Marquis?” John asked.
Laura’s countenance glowed with excitement, but she soon sneered, “How would you know an aristocrat of that rank?”
Unflappable, John continued, “On our last visit here, the Marquis de Mascarille introduced himself. His father is acquainted with our father.”
“I do not believe it.”
John turned to Madame Duval, who added, “I have heard of the Marquis de Mascarille, but I have never met him.”
After Madame Duval’s statement, Laura visibly softened and inquired, “When may I meet such an aristocrat?”
Andrew and John exchanged delighted looks and Andrew said, as he looked at Madame Duval for permission, “Perhaps we can arrange for him to call at Madame Duval’s, the day after tomorrow.”
“He is most certainly welcome,” the matronly matchmaker answered. She then turned to Laura, Sarah, and Maria. “I will send my carriage early in the day, so we can prepare for the visit.” She then turned her attention back to the Darcy brothers and said, “I am not sure to what I owe the honor, but you sirs, are always welcome.”
