Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (36 page)

"Mrs.
Roben Ferrars was Sir Francis's mistress."

"Oh,
my!" Elizabeth required a moment to absorb that intelligence. "I
suppose that explains how she was always in possesion of the latest news about
you--I mean, him. Sir Francis must have taken her into his confidence, for
surely Mrs. Ferrars would not have entered into an affair with her own
nephew"

"Unfortunately,
she was quite of the belief that it was I who seduced her. I shall never be able
to hear my name on her lips without the sound giving rise to memories I would
much rather forget."

"As
someone who knows you well, she did not find Sir Francis's actions so contrary
to your nature as to make her question them?" Darcy asked.

"My
aunt is not possessed of the strongest perception," Harry said. "Indeed,
she was flattered by his advances "
"It is little wonder Miss Ferrars's
engagement so enraged her."
"My cousin Regina is engaged?''
Harry asked. "To whom?
Elizabeth hesitated. "To you, I
fear."
Mr. Dashwood looked a little ill.
"I knew I had lost Miss Bennett when I saw the three of you arrive at the
townhouse as the mirror was being prepared for transport to Norland. I caught a
glimpse of Kitty--what a blessed gift that was! But I feared for her. When I
heard you speak of the broken engagement as you left, I rejoiced that she had
escaped Sir Francis's taint."
He poked at his food, apparently having
lost his appetite. "To now find myself engaged to my cousin--well, it is
most surprising news. I am not certain what attraction she held for Sir Francis."
Elizabeth exchanged glances with
Darcy. If Harry had been at Norland since Kitty ended the engagement, he had
been absent when Sir Francis gambled away his estate and Fanny settled his
remaining inheritance on her niece.

"Mr.
Dashwood, I'm afraid we must advise you of additional unpleasant
occurrences," Darcy said.

Harry
bore with dignity the news that Sir Francis had left him penniless.
He became very quiet, and the others
allowed him the privacy of his own thoughts. At last he said, "I am glad
he left this world, for otherwise I might have killed him myself."

"Someone
did," Elizabeth said. "The servants found him trapped in the larder
this morning."

"Indeed?
I had wondered at his odd position when you brought him upstairs. Will there be
an investigation?"

"Unfortunately,
there is nothing to investigate,"' said Da;
"With you here, there is no
corpse, and hence, no murder. But I would guard my back, however, were I you.
for Sir Francis managed to offend a great many people in your name."

"After
what you all endured to restore my life, I do not intend to lose it easily.
Mere words can never express the measure of my gratitude. When I consider what
you almost sacrificed---."

"Almost,"
Elizabeth emphasized. "All turned out well in the end." She looked to
Professor Randolph. "Though, Professor.
I do not understand what happened in the final moments. A soul for
a soul--was that not the mirror's price?
Obviously, Mr. Dashwood's spirit was released. In exchange. I saw the glass try
to steal Darcy s, and I felt it try to snatch my own. What caused it to destroy
itself instead?"

The
archaeologist pondered her question a moment. "Maybe the mirror tried to
take too much at once "

She
shook her head. "No--Darcy was out of its range in the end. I was alone
before it"

Professor
Randolph regarded her, his expression inscrutable. Finally. he said, "I
have no other explanation to offer at present. Perhaps in time you'll find the
answer within yourself."

They
were interrupted by a voice rising from below, where someone sought admittance.
Mr Dashwood rose and opened the drawing room door to better hear the visitor.
Her voice was familiar to them all.

"What
dreadful news aboul my nephew! I came as soon as I heard...

Mr.
Dashwood winced "I do not think I can cope with my aunt Lucy just yet."

After
what she had learned today, Elizabeth did not know whether she would ever again
be able to greet Mrs. Robert Ferrars with a placid countenance. She was
curious, however, as to the nature of the news to which Lucy alluded. To Elizabeth's
knowledge, word of Mr. Dashwood's supposed demise had not traveled outside the
house.
"Will you allow me?" she
asked.
"By all means."

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." deg

"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.