Suspense and Sensibility Or, First Impressions Revisited: A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery (27 page)

      Elizabeth left to receive the visitor. As she headed down the stairs, Lucy's voice continued to resound in the hall.

      "As his kin, I wonder that you did not send me word immediately." Lucy admonished the housekeeper. "I will, of course handle all the arrangements, in consultation with his mother."
      She tried to push her way past the servant.

      "Good evening, Mrs. Ferrars." Elizabeth greeted her. The housekeeper looked as if she had every intention of staying, but Elizabeth dismissed her.       "What arrangements would those be?"

      "Mrs Darcy." Lucy opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. It was the first occasion Elizabeth could recall of her being at a loss for words. "I did not expect to find you here." she said finally.

      "I did not expect to be here myself today, but necessity required it."

      Lucy nodded sympathetically. "It was good of you to come. Those senseless servants obviously didn't know who to summon. But I'm here now. Where is the—where is poor Harry?"

      Mr Dashwood's aunt had hardly referred to him as "poor Harry" the last time Elizabeth had seen her.

      "In the drawing room." °

      "The drawing room?" She appeared puzzled "Well. I suppose that's as good a place as any. Is he—is he quite dreadful to look at?"

      Actually, Elizabeth reflected. Harry's appearance had continued to improve dramatically since he'd regained consciousness. At present, he didn't look a day over fifty.

      But to Lucy she said. "How did he look when you last saw him?"

      An expression of guilt flashed across her face. It lasted the merest fraction of a second, but it was long enough "Oh, you know.. ." Lucy shrugged

      Yes, she did.

Thirty Two

"Tell her of my misery and my penitence - tell her that my heart was never inconstant to her, and if you will, that at this moment she is dearer to me than ever."

 –
Mr Willoughby to Elinor,

Sense and Sensibility,
Chapter 44

      "I came to bid you farewell" Mr. Dashwood said as he entered Darcy's library.
      Darcy greeted Harry, though not the cause of his call, with genuine pleasure. In the three weeks since Mr. Dashwood had been restored to himself, Darcy had come to hold him in esteem surpassing that of their earlier acquaintance. His ordeal in the mirror had purged him of those flaws of character Darcy had obviously defined as a want of seriousness, leaving him instead a sober young man mature beyond his years. In fact, both Elizabeth and Darcy worried that he had grown a little too serious and hoped that eventually the passage of time would lighten his spirits.

      He invited Mr. Dashwood to be seated. "You look very well today."

      "I am, thank you." In physical appearance, Mr. Dashwood had remarkably improved. The effects of premature aging that Sir Francis's tenancy had wrought upon his person had receded beyond anyone's expectation. He had appeared gradually younger each day for a fortnight, until settling into the form of a man perhaps in his mid-thirties. Professor Randolph theorized that when his soul reentered his body, it had yet borne the image of child, and that this fortunate circumstance had somehow countered the years Sir Francis had added. He still looked considerably older than he ought, and probably always would, but his appearance was superior to what could have been.

      "I understand you leave on the morrow?" Mr Dashwood asked.

      "Yes." The Darcys had extended their London stay to see Harry through his initial recovery, but now they headed back to Pemberley. They would stop en route at Longbourn to return Kitty. "But I expect it is not I to whom you particularly wish to say good-bye."

      "I hoped to see Mrs Darcy, too, of course."

      "And no one else?"

      Mr. Dashwood had enquired after Kitty at every opportunity but the two had not yet met in person. Though free of his obligation to Regina - breaking the engagement between the cousins had seemed best for all involved—the awkwardness of seeing Kitty again, after the hurt Sir Francis had inflicted upon her, had deterred him from calling at the Darcys' townhouse.

      "She is out with Mrs. Darcy and my sister at the moment but should return soon," Darcy said.

      "I do not know what to say to her—how to begin to apologize, or even explain"

      "Mrs. Darcy told her you have been unwell but are on the mend. What you reveal beyond that is your own choice ."

      "Do you think she could ever possibly believe the truth?"

      "I suspect she still wants very much to believe in you."

      Mr. Dashwood avoided Darcy's gaze. "I am unworthy of that faith."

      "Do you still care for her?"

      His ardent expression said that he did, but it quickly transformcd to one of misery. "I have nothing to offer her. My fortune is gone, my friends alienated, my reputation blackened beyond redemption. My very body is so changed I don't yet feel entirely comfortable in my own skin." He held up his hand before him. "I cannot tender her a hand I don't even recognize as
my own and a name everyone recognizes as infamous!" He slumped against the chair back and shook his head. "I have nothing to recommend me."
      "Nothing but yourself"

      "That is not enough, and you know it even better than I"
      Unfortunately, Darcy did know it. Even if Miss Bennet could overlook the alteration of Harry's form, and her family the damage Sir Francis had done to Mr. Dashwood's reputation, no one could ignore the loss of his fortune. Love alone could not sustain the couple, nor could the interest on Kitty's one thousand pounds.

      Mr. Dashwood rose. "I think honor requires me to distance myself from Miss Bennet, so that her heart is free to bestow itself on a more deserving gentleman. I shall leave now. before she returns."

      "Where do you go?" Darcy asked. "I speak not merely of the present moment, but of your future. Without your inheritance, how do you plan to maintain yourself?"

      "During my captivity, I spent a great deal of time comtemplating my life and its value—not just to myself, but to others, and concluded that I had been a rather selfish creature, though I hoped I had started to mend that deficiency under the influence of Miss Bennett's regard. I resolved that , should I ever be so blessed as to escape my prison, I would endeavor to prove a more useful human being. I have been granted salvation; I believe it now my duty to help others reach it."

      "You intend to enter the church?"

      "As soon as I can take orders I think quitting town for a quiet life as a country vicar, such as my uncle Edward Ferrars enjoys, is the very thing for me. By some miracle, he and my aunt Elinor are still speaking to me. and I plan to solicit his assistance in getting ordained and finding a modest living-
provided the reputation Sir Francis left me with does not prejudice one and all against my serving as a clergyman. I hope, perhaps, in some place far removed from London, there may exist a potential patron who has not heard the tales."

      A life devoted to the church, if Harry served well, could go a long way toward restoring his respectability. Darcy studied Mr Dashwood, not in the light of the summer sun streaming through the window, but in the light of the trial he had just endured. The young buck Darcy had first met at the Middletons' soiree would never have made a good minister, the gentleman who entertained them at Norland might have, but lacked any motive for
entering the profession. This man before him, however—this chastened, reborn Mr. Dashwood, baptized in the mirror's fire - he would make a very good clergyman, indeed.

      "I know of a living in Derbyshire that will become vacant soon.  In Kympton, a pleasant little village."

      "Indeed?" Mr. Dashwood's interest was evident. 'Do you think its patron might be prevailed upon to consider me?"
      "The living is mine to grant. And yours if you want it."
      He was silent a moment. "Mr. Darcy, I hardly know what to say. I am humbled by your generosity. You have already done so much for me and are one of the only friends I have remaining. I most gratefully accept, and pledge to devote myself wholeheartedly to the parishioners in my care."

      "Do you not even wish to know the living's value?"
      "It is immaterial, but tell me if you like."
      "About four hundred a year, enough to support in comfort a man of moderate habits—" Darcy paused. "And his wife, if he happened to have one."

      Hope illuminated Mr Dashwood's face, but he quickly fought it back, unwilling to give himself over to it. "Do you think she would have me?" he whispered.

      Below, the from door opened, filling the hall with the sound of ladies returning.

      "That, Mr. Dashwood, is up to her. And to you."

      He left Harry in the library and went to the balcony. Miss Bennet was in the hall below, with Elizabeth and Georgiana.
      Kitty laughed at something her sister said, and Darcy reflected that, during the period of Mr. Dashwood's recovery, she too, had begun to heal from the injuries Sir Francis had inflicted. He captured her attention.

      "Miss Bennet, there is someone in the library who wants very much to speak with you."

      Curiosity crossed her countenance but did not erase her smile. She came up the stairs. "Who is it?"

      He look her arm and led her into the library, closing the door behind them. "Receive him only if you wish."

      Mr Dashwood gazed out the window, lost in thought, his back to the door. In his altered form, which Kitty had not seen in weeks and which had undergone still more changes since, it took her a moment to recognize him.       When she did. she gasped."Mr. Dashwood."

      He turned round. Darcy had never seen a face exhibit such a range of emotions in so short a span. Joy. Regret. Hope. Grief. Longing. Sorrow. Tenderness.

      "Miss Bennet."

      He went toward her. She took an involuntary step back and leaned closer to Darcy. He stopped.

      "You are afraid of me.' The fact clearly wounded him. but he bore it with acceptance.

      "No." She withdrew her arm from Darcy's supportive grasp and walked to Mr. Dashwood. Raising her chin, she looked him in the eye. 'No, Harry." she said quietly. "I am not afraid of you."

      "I cannot blame you if you are, after all that has transpired."
      Darcy retreated toward the door to grant them some measure of privacy, but he would not leave until assured that Kitty was easy in Mr. Dashwood's company.

      She studied Harry a long time. "My sister says you have been ill."

      "I was not myself when we last saw each other, and had not been for weeks."

      "And now? Are you once more the gentleman I knew at Norland?"

      "No," he said. "I fear that, like Norland itself, that man hasa gone forever. But I hope I am a better one."

      Her gaze danced about the room, as if she were afraid to let it rest on him too long. His, however, never left her. He drank in the vision of her. cherishing each expression, each gesture, even those unfavorable to his suit. He had not seen her in over two months, and, depending on the outcome of this meeting, might never see her again.

      "Mr. Dashwood, why have you called today? Surely you realize how difficult this interview is for me. The horrible thing you said at our last meeting—the wicked things you did—. Her voice broke.

      "Miss Bennet, I—"

      "We were engaged to be married, and you took a mistress!
      She shut her eyes against the sight of him and turned her head. A deep, shaky breath followed. When she opened her eyes once more, she looked away from him, at the floor.

      The anguish that crossed his countenance at the sight of her distress at least equaled hers. "Miss Bennet—"

      "A mistress," she repeated quietly. "Have you any idea how much that hurt me?"

      He swallowed hard. "Yes"

      His own hands trembling, he reached for hers. She let him take them, but she would not meet his eyes. He dropped to his knees so that he could look up into her face.

      "Miss Bennet, I have no right to beg your forgiveness, to hope that somewhere in the heart that suffered so on my account is a corner that does not utterly despise me. But Miss Bennet, if there is—if any chance exists that you might one day look upon me without revulsion—that I may someday regain your respect, if not your love—" He drew in an unsteady breath of his own
      "Oh, God. Kitty—if I could but take your pain upon myself, how willingly, how gratefully, how humbly I would bear it!"

      She withdrew one hand from his grasp, to wipe tears from her eyes.

      "Oh, Harry, I want to believe you. . .."

      Neither of them heard Darcy open the door and close it behind him. Miss Bennet and Mr. Dashwood still had a great deal to talk through, and they did not need an audience. Darcy believed, however, that they eventually would find their way back to each other.

      Elizabeth waited just outside. "You arc most mysterious this afternoon" She nodded toward the door 'Who is in there?"
      The future vicar of Kymplon."

      "You filled the living? That must be a relief—I know how the vacancy has plagued you. Whom did you find?"

      "A promising gentleman who plans to take orders soon"
      "He must be a younger person, then. I am glad—there is less likelihood of your having to fill the benefice again right away.
      "How old a man is he?"

      Darcy s brow furrowed. "At present, I am not altogether certain"

      "Well, never mind. I am just pleased we can leave London with that objective satisfied." She headed back to the staircase and started to descend             On the second step, however, she stopped and turned around. "But Darcy. whatever does the new vicar want with Kilty?"

      "I believe he wants to marry her."

      She regarded him in puzzlement. Then sudden understanding lit her expression. "Mr. Dashwood is in there?" she whispered excitedly.

      "He is."

      "And you've left them alone together? Shame on you, Darcy—'tis most improper." It was an empty admonishment— her eyes danced with delight as she returned to his side. "What is he saying to her?"

      "I am not privy to that information."

      "All right—as a fellow gentleman, what do you think he is saying?"

      He looked into her face and took her hand. "I think he says that if she will grant him the opportunity, he will spend the remainder of his life proving himself worthy of her." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I think he says that if she can content herself to live on a clergyman's income, he will treat her like a duchess." He kissed the inside of her wrist. "I think
he says that—" He whispered the last in her ear.

      "Mmm. I had no idea Mr. Dashwood was such a romantic fellow." She allowed him to lead her away from the library door. "And what do you have to say. Mr. Darcy?"

      "That I pray your sister consents, for I do not think I could endure another London season such as this."