Her Voice of Reason Read online

  She was about to turn on her heel and walk away when the man pushed past his wife and reached to Elizabeth, grabbing her arm in a painful grip.

  “Darcy’s bitch,” he hissed before pulling her to him so that she could smell the odour of unwashed body mixed with cheap whisky. The smell made her sick, and a moment later she was thrown against the doorframe like a rag doll. She felt acute pain in the side of her face before she heard a cry and everything went dark.

  ***

  Elizabeth woke up to a severe headache, pain in her face as well as her arm.

  She managed to open her right eye, but the other felt numb and unresponsive. Her attempt to sit up was stopped by a gentle hand pressing her back onto the bed by her good shoulder.

  “Rest down, Mrs. Darcy.” She heard the characteristic thick accent of Mr. Coleman.

  “Elizabeth, my dearest.” Another voice was heard above her and soon she felt the familiar scent of her husband close to her. Seeking comfort, she reached to him. The next moment she was lifted up and pressed gently to his side. Despite the pain and discomfort she felt instantly better, safe and protected.

  His lips traced gently over her forehead as she fisted her hand in his shirt, trying to bring him close to her. Then a cool cloth was placed on the side of her face.

  “What about her eye?” Darcy asked.

  “The eye is sound. No permanent damage to it, I assure you. The bruising is bad, and it will get uglier, but will be gone in two weeks. I would be more concerned about her head. We shall worry if the headache intensifies and she suffers from nausea.”

  “How could it happen?” Darcy asked. “She had the footman and the maid with her.”

  “Miles became violent since he started drinking again. I treated his wife for a broken arm last year. She said that she had tripped, but the bruises on her arms spoke differently. He has a tight grip.”

  “He will pay for it,” Darcy vowed. Elizabeth tried to open her good eye and say something, but any movement in her face brought too much pain.

  “I have a herbs mixture Mrs. Darcy should drink for the next three days but no longer, as she may become addicted to it. It should numb the pain and make her sleep. She will suffer less.”

  “She will drink it,” Darcy assured.

  “Is there a possibility that Mrs. Darcy may be with child? The blend may be harmful if she is.”

  Darcy was unashamed to answer. “I do not think that this is the case. Her courses ended over a week ago, ten days exactly, but since then I was with her almost every night.”

  “The chances are small, then. She should drink tea in the morning and evening. I made the first dose and I wrote down how to prepare it for the maid to do it.”

  “I will prepare it myself for her.”

  “Very well. Now, hold her still. She must drink it now.”

  Darcy murmured reassuring words, holding her to him as another hand opened her mouth. She swallowed hot bitter liquid, coughing at the unwelcome taste. “A little more, dearest,” Darcy encouraged her, and obediently she drank more.

  Before long she felt heavy and sleepy, sweet languor overpowering her. Darcy stayed by her side, allowing her to feel his warmth and smell.

  ***

  Elizabeth found no courage so far to look in the mirror. She mostly slept for three days, feeling much improved on the fourth one. The pain in her face was bearable, and she felt no other discomfort. She was fed up with being confined to her room, but Darcy insisted that she should stay upstairs for a few more days.

  “I am feeling well, Fitzwilliam,” she assured while enjoying a delicious breakfast in bed. She sat cross-legged, picking on fresh strawberries coated in sugar. “The headache is gone.”

  “Mr. Coleman will come later and we shall ask him whether you can go downstairs.”

  She sighed. “I long for a walk.”

  “We will go tomorrow if the physician allows it. I promise.”

  Sucking on the juice from the ripe fruit, she observed her husband. He looked grim; he reminded her of haughty and high-minded Mr. Darcy which she had met almost a year ago in Hertfordshire. There was something more in his face, fury and anger. She had never seen him as such.

  “Fitzwilliam...” she spoke in a soft voice.

  The smile which he had for her did not quite reach his eyes. “Yes, my dear.”

  “You are angry,” she stated.

  “Furious.”

  She swallowed. “With me?”

  “Of course not!” His voice was raised, tone impatient. Elizabeth searched his face, attempting to read his feelings.

  “I am furious with myself. Harm came to you, to my dearest wife on my land. I vowed to protect you.” He bent down to kiss her hands. “I failed you.”

  She freed one of her hands from his hold and stroked his head. “It was an accident. One cannot perceive everything, even you.”

  He looked up. “My wife was beaten down by a drunkard. This should have never happened.”

  She stroked his cheek. “I am well, Fitzwilliam. All is well.”

  “It is now,” he agreed, his tone one of satisfaction, “or rather will be once you are fully recovered. Unfortunately I must go now; there are some matters I need to attend to. Georgiana will come in a moment to keep you company.”

  Elizabeth reached for his hand. She knew Peters and the footman who accompanied them that day were released from service the same day the accident happened without good reference. Darcy spared only the coachman who had served for the last thirty years. She was curious what happened to Miles, the man who attacked. She was certain that he was punished, preferably imprisoned, but she worried about his family, his wife and children.

  “What will happen to Miles?”

  “No longer he poses a danger to you or to anyone else. You are safe from him.”

  “Is he imprisoned?”

  For a moment Darcy hesitated with his answer. “He is dead.”

  Her eyes widened. “You had him hanged?” she whispered.

  “I sentenced him to a public whipping followed by two years in Newgate. He died a day after he was whipped.”

  She thought that she could hear satisfaction, almost joy in his voice and expression when he said the words. Was it possible that Darcy derived pleasure from the death of a man?

  “Was it not too severe?” she enquired gently. “He was a common drunkard. He would have never done it, had he been sober.”

  He stared at her with exasperation. “Elizabeth, I do not understand how you can even defend him. He threw you against the doorframe, you lost your consciousness, he might have even killed you. I should have had him hanged without a trial. My great- grandfather would have had him burned on a stake for everyone to see. I followed the procedure, though, and I can assure you that his punishment was adequate to his misdemeanour. Yes, I would have preferred to have him hanged, and my only consolation is that he suffered longer during the whipping. The man raised his hand on a gentlewoman, the wife of a magistrate and landowner, he deserved his punishment. The entire county has talked about nothing else but this for the last days. By the end of the week I am going to Matlock. At the gathering of local landlords I shall push for stricter laws concerning drunkards. We cannot allow the women to be beaten by mongrels oversaturated with whisky.”

  “What will happen with his family?”

  “They will be taken care of,” he promised. “I have no intention to throw them on the streets. I accept that his wife is as much a victim as you are.”

  Elizabeth was left alone. She pushed the plate with strawberries away, her appetite lost completely. She guessed that Darcy would have Miles punished severely. Nevertheless she would have never thought that the man would be dead by the time she regained her strength from the ordeal. She realized that Darcy was in his right to act the way he had done. People were punished and imprisoned for much lesser deeds. Could she blame her husband for what had happened to Miles? Should she blame herself? Had she been more careful, nothing of this would have
happened. But how could she foresee being attacked in broad daylight by one of the tenants?

  She sighed. For certain Fitzwilliam Darcy was not a man to be toyed with. He fought for what he wanted and fiercely protected what he had.

  Chapter Nine

  Elizabeth recovered from her ordeal completely within two weeks as Mr. Coleman promised to her, only to find out how much of an unwelcome popularity her accident had caused. Her accident, the fact that a gentlewoman was beaten to unconsciousness by a tenant, became the subject of much discussion and gossip among the ton not only in Derbyshire but also in other counties.

  Her bruises were not yet healed entirely, her face still swollen, when the guests began to arrive in large numbers. All the neighbours, even those from quite far away, paid her visits, bringing not only well wishes but also gifts to improve her spirits. She was given a puppy, several rare exotic plants for the conservatory, as well as a talking parrot which was passed to Georgiana, who was enchanted with it from the first moments.

  The visitors included William Cavendish, the young Duke of Devonshire from Chatsworth, as well as the Earl and Countess of Matlock, who were Darcy’s aunt and uncle. In this strange and unexpected way Elizabeth became accepted and acknowledged into the sphere which previously had seemed reluctant to admit her. The Duke of Devonshire even informed her that he personally discussed her great misfortune with the Prince Regent, who was deeply shocked and disgusted at what had happened to her.

  With the beginning of August the flurry of guests gradually stopped as people occupied themselves with another scandalous matter. Elizabeth returned to her daily routine, but she had no courage to restart her tenant visits again. Nevertheless she resumed her other duties as well as her long walks.

  ***

  August 1st

  Longbourn

  Hertfordshire

  My dearest sister,

  In the first words of this letter I wish to tell you how very upset we all were hearing about your unfortunate accident. How very horrible it must have been for you. We are all revealed to hear that you are recovered from this ordeal. The news of what happened to you reached even Hertfordshire, as it is not often when a tenant raises his hand on a gentlewoman, the wife of a landowner.

  The life in Longbourn is the same as it always has been, with the exception that we enjoy more peace with Lydia being in Brighton. Kitty seemed to at last have accepted that she was not invited to join her sister at Colonel Forster’s house. I see much improvement in her behaviour now that Lydia is not here to corrupt her with silly ideas.

  As for Papa, I am pleased to tell you that he is very much improved. Even I found it difficult to believe that last winter there were days when he was too weak to leave the library. His eyesight is not improved but not worsened either. The colour returned to his face and he even put on weight. The headaches come occasionally, but with the help of medicine it is easy to control them. He is not as active as he was a year ago. He does not ride, and he leaves the house rarely, but his spirits are high. He is more interested in his surroundings, always expecting the letters from you, Lizzy. I know that he wishes to see you. He mentioned to me the possibility of travelling to Derbyshire before winter.

  The hope grows within me that Papa will return to full health and that Mr. Greenwood was after all wrong in his diagnosis.

  In all your letters you write of Mr. Darcy in a way which pleases me greatly. Seeing you marrying a man you could not love and trust saddened me greatly. You sacrificed yourself freely to help our family and it burdened my consciousness that I supported you in this endeavour, even encouraging it. On receiving your every post I first look for the sentences stating that your husband is fair and loving towards you and in many matters considers you to be his equal. I can see that you are discovering his goodness and learning to value his character despite his pride and aloofness.

  I think of you every hour of every day, my dearest sister, praying for your happiness.

  Your sister,

  Jane Bennet.

  With a sad sigh Elizabeth folded the last letter from her most beloved sister which she received yesterday. She returned it to a neat pile in the drawer of the desk before closing it with a key. She thought about her Jane’s words for most of the night, barely sleeping. Even her husband noticed the sudden change in her mood, asking what was the reason for it.

  She could not answer him truthfully. Jane’s letter brought much joy to her with the news of great improvement in Mr. Bennet’s health. However, it also caused many mixed feelings in her heart. In the first place she felt cheated and fooled. She married Darcy thinking it was the only way to rescue her family from destitution. Her decision changed her life completely. She was away from home, from Jane, the Gardiners, and everything she loved and knew. She was among strangers, her every action and word were judged and observed by the servants, Darcy, the tenants and neighbours. Tears brimmed her eyes and she allowed a few to fall down her cheeks. What had she done? Why did she act so foolishly, so cowardly? Now she was almost certain that her father would live long years while she was here with no hope for her.

  Elizabeth sighed again, rubbing her tired eyes. The most important matter was that her father was feeling better. Her life was not what she wished it to be, but no great harm was done to her. Jane and Mrs. Gardiner would advise her to look for the best in her current situation. Gazing out of the windows, she looked at the beautiful day. Pemberley was indeed a marvellous place to live in. Many women would sacrifice much more than she had to become the mistress of it. Darcy, despite his faults, proved to be better a husband than she would have ever expected him to be. She liked her new sister, Georgiana, who was unpretentious, kind and honest. There were many good things which she should take into consideration when examining her current situation.

  The sunny day was tempting her out of the house. She finished with her duties for today, and thought a walk to the village was a sound idea. For some time now she had thought about talking with Mr. Coleman, the physician. Her intention was to ask him a few questions concerning cancer, without giving any details about her father’s condition. Perhaps he could help her? In the past she had heard much good about the physicians trained in the medical school in Edinburgh. Mr. Coleman was not a member of the Royal College of Physicians as Mr. Greenwood was, but he was younger and well trained. He might have heard about some new developments in medical fields, especially the ones concerning cancer disease.

  She put on a bonnet and light spencer because despite the sunny day the wind gave the air a slight chill. Instead of sending the maid with orders she decided to visit the kitchen herself to order a basket for the children at the hospital. She was well aware that not many women in her position spent any time in the parts of the house designed for the servants, but Elizabeth did not find it inappropriate. People employed in the house had become her sole responsibility. She wished to know their circumstances and work conditions.

  As she was waiting in the large foyer, very grand with its marble floors, for the basket to be brought to her, she heard her husband’s steps.

  “Mrs. Darcy,” he greeted her in his usual official tone which he used only when they could be overheard by servants or the strangers. “Are you off for your walk?”

  “I am waiting for the basket I want take to the children in the hospital.”

  A slight frown appeared on Darcy’s forehead, and his eyes narrowed. “You are visiting the hospital again,” he stated disapprovingly.

  “I have not been there for a long time,” she reminded him. “Several weeks. I did not have the opportunity to thank Mr. Coleman for his care during my recovery.”

  “You have no need to do that. I thanked him. My thanks were quite enough, I assure you.”

  The basket was brought by the footman, but before Elizabeth could touch it Darcy took it.

  “I will walk you there. The basket it heavy.”

  “It is not necessary. I will take the maid to help me carry it if it worries you.”
/>   Darcy ignored her words, offering her his arm as they walked to the door. Elizabeth was very much displeased with his presence and barely answered his enquiries.

  She wished for a lonely walk to the village and private conversation with Mr. Coleman. It was impossible now. It was impossible to ask the questions about her father’s illness with Darcy at her side.

  ***

  As the visit at the hospital, apart from seeing the children, was not what she wished for, the following day Elizabeth wished to find the information she needed in the library. After all, the Pemberley collection of books was considered the best in the country. There were some books about the human body and illnesses in there, she had seen them previously but never bothered to have a closer look at them.

  She pushed the ladder under the correct bookshelf and climbed it. It was much too high for her liking, as the books which she was interested in were located at the top shelf just under the ornate ceiling. She had to stand at the last steps of the ladder to reach it. She could see a book about human anatomy and another thick volume about herbs and medicines. She began the process of taking out the first one when a large hand was placed on her side, making her gasp and jolt on the ladder. She did not slip because strong arms were holding on not only her but the ladder as well, but she dropped the book with much noise right on the hardwood floor.

  “You scared me,” she accused, glaring down on her smiling husband.

  “You should have asked me for help. I do not like seeing you climbing ladders.”

  “I am perfectly capable of using the ladder without your help,” she informed him, reaching out for another book.

  With Darcy’s help she was back on the floor safely with one heavy volume in her hands. Her husband picked up the other one from the floor, reading the title in the process.

  “Human anatomy?” His raised eyebrow told her that he was very much surprised with her choice.

  Taking the book from him, she inclined her head. “It is an interesting subject.”

  “Very interesting indeed,” he agreed. “However, for as long as I have known you I have never seen you with a book on science. You read solely novels, poetry, travels books and on occasion some historical accounts.”