My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

Prologue: Snippets of a Physician's Memoirs

June 23, 1817

Darcy House, London

Imagine my surprise to realize it has been over a month since last jotting my musings in this fine book. Of course, writing while at sea is inconceivable. Egad, I abhor being at sea! Luckily the remedies for seasickness liberally doused down my gullet by the ever faithful Dr. Raul Penaflor staved off the worst of the hideous symptoms. I even managed to walk about a bit on deck. Bracing sea air, my derriere! Nonetheless, I was abed for the bulk of the trip, wallowing too far in my personal hellish misery to complain about the narrow confines of our cabin and odiferous mattress. East India trading ships cater to the needs of cargo far above passengers. We disembarked at Ramsgate. I was quite happy to embrace the rigors of overland travel rather than proceeding up the Thames, but several days of subsequent immobility were required to restore my equilibrium ere we moved beyond that lovely seacoast town. Raul, bless his Spanish heart, rather delighted in my incapacitation as it allotted him the opportunity to ramble through the streets and relish the sights. Poor man has never seen England. How does one live? I ask arrogantly.

Eventually we set off. I did manage to post a letter warning William of my arrival. I hoped it would arrive well enough in advance, although that did not prove to be true. Apparently the mail service of my great country has not improved. Not all can be perfect. Oh well, that is the way of family! I flattered myself that his astounding joy would be profound enough to overwhelm any irritation at my besieging of the newlyweds. This did prove to be true as well as fortuitous, as William had hurt himself, again, and I am sure it was only my timely arrival that saved him from a life of handicap! Ha! However, I am getting ahead of myself, as you know, dear Jharna, I am wont to do.

This trip home has been so anticipated, sea travel notwithstanding. Naturally I was thrilled that Raul wished to accompany me, but even without his companionship I would have had to come. How many hours did I bore you with memories of my homeland, Jharna? Always wishing and praying that you would agree to travel with me. Perhaps I should have prayed to your gods rather than my own. Ah well, here I now am, and never has the green English countryside and crowded London streets filled me with such joy. It is almost impossible to recollect how anxious I was to leave all those decades ago. Perhaps I am getting old, as you would tease.

Darcy House stood shining in the afternoon sun, undiminished in her grandeur and loveliness. Moderate chaos reigned, much to my delight, when I crossed the threshold. It was a scene evocative of my youth when all us rowdy children would be tearing about the foyer: Alex sliding down the banister to Mother's dismay, Estella hiding in order to frighten delicate Mary, and James doubled over in mirth while I performed some feat of acrobatic skill. Yes, I must be aging if the frequent jaunts down the ancient paths of my memories are any indication. If the obvious affection between William and his bride are evidentiary of their marital relations, then Darcy House will yet again display such a scene. In fact, they are already on the way as Mrs. Darcy is with child.

How can I describe Elizabeth Darcy? Clinically, emotionally, or both? Physically she is a tiny slip of a girl, although actually of moderate height. Strangely, considering the stature of William, she on the one hand is dwarfed by his bulk while simultaneously looming larger than life. Sheer force of personality and presence overcomes her physicality. With chestnut hair, enormous brown eyes, dainty features, and delicate bone structure, she is a picturesque counterpart for my nephew. They complement each other well on numerous levels. However, it is the aforementioned presence that I know has captured William, as I imagine it does all who know her. She is witty, intelligent, sparkling, kind, courageous, and loving. I can readily find no faults, and you know, Jharna, what a penchant I have for divining deficiencies!

I will confess that I assumed William, like the vast majority of men in his class, had acquired a wife from the leeches of proper British society. Someone poised, of excellent family, and acceptable, but likely dull, vapid, and shallow. My years away from my favored nephew, his character largely gleaned through James's letters and later his own, fostered the theory that he would take the safe and acceptable road. I cannot claim to have an overly intimate relationship with him, but could have stated with absolute certainty that taking such a path would have rendered him miserable within a year. James always told me that his son's intelligence and restrained intensity mildly intimidated him, William possessing a nature far too zealous and exacting to comfortably fit within the confines of stifling English society. Yet, he would lament, William seemed determined to do so even to the point of suppressing his inclinations.

As I recall musing in previous journal entries while visiting home, my impressions concurred with James's. William as an adult and Master of Pemberley appeared to be fulfilling the best of James's predictions and the worst of his fears. That he was brilliant as the estate manager and guardian to Georgie was evident, but there was a sadness and stoic quality to him that even I could not crack significantly. A mere smile or laugh was a rare event, and I think he was frankly relieved when I returned to India.

Estella's letter after the wedding filled me with some hope, her impression of the new Mrs. Darcy and William's emotions all favorable. She also related that Elizabeth was neither of society nor even the best family. Lady Catherine flatly refused to acknowledge the union, shockingly, I write with towering sarcasm! Anyway, I am repeating myself. I guess it is just the surprise of the development that still staggers me. James, of course, had married for love, but I know how rare that is. Would even my dear brother have done so if Lady Anne Fitzwilliam were not of the highest caliber and breeding? I do not know. Regardless, William has found his match in every way in Elizabeth. Theirs appears to be the deepest of loves. I cannot be happier for them.

Ah, Jharna, how amazing it is to be in the bosom of my family! For too many years I have been adrift with only you to really turn to. Now you are gone and I have longed for the reestablishment of roots. Who would have thought it? And I know you are laughing from wherever you now reside! Be that as it may, I must attempt to smother my sentimental tendencies and write of my days here clinically, or I will fill the remaining pages with nonsense.

My dearest Georgiana has evolved into a woman in my absence. She is more beautiful and graceful then I would have imagined her awkward and skinny little-girl shape to grow into. So like Anne in every way. William's personality was always more of a melding of James and Anne, his humor and playfulness there, but reserved. More like my sister Mary or brother Phillip. Actually, as I think on it, he receives that trait from my mother! Interesting. Or, with further staring into space recollections, very like the old Lord Matlock, Anne's father. There was an intimidating man! I doubt he ever cracked a smile, as the world is yet in one piece.

No, Georgie is a straight replica of dear Anne. Blonde, blue-eyed, dainty, soft-spoken, charming, innocent, yet with a sharp humor, intelligence, and quick wit hidden behind her naïveté. It is providential that I arrived at this moment in her life. She is the proverbial girl on the cusp of womanhood: one hour a silly child and the next wise and mature. I am gleaning via oblique hints that William and Elizabeth walked a rocky course on their way to felicity, Georgiana the stabilizer for my nephew's turbulent soul. I do not know the details, although the curiosity is killing me (do not snicker, Jharna). I will figure it out in due time!

The first several days of our dwelling have been hectic, hence why I have yet to create an entry here until today. Within days of my arrival I met Elizabeth's entire family, Lady Catherine and her daughter Miss Anne, a number of William's friends and business associates, Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley, and my old friend Malcolm Fitzwilliam and his family. The Darcys hosted a ball that Raul and I were in time to attend. It was marvelous to see old faces again, even Lady C. She has always been fodder for entertainment; this time it was a confrontation and subsequent dubious apology for some sort of infraction against Elizabeth. I am still working out the details, but apparently she refused to acknowledge William's marriage, basing her disdain for Elizabeth's country upbringing, as well as a misguided belief that Anne and William were destined to wed. I recall James speaking of this a time or two with humor, saying once that it would be incestuous considering how close the two were as youngsters. Be that as it may, Lady C never gave up the idea even after William made it abundantly clear his leanings were elsewhere. The boy has a mind of his own, make no mistake! Even I could have told Lady C that.

Mr. Bingley has matured nicely since I met him two years ago, and married Elizabeth's sister Jane! Mrs. Bingley is a blonde beauty with stunning blue eyes, far quieter than Elizabeth but well suited for Mr. Bingley. The two seem very happy, and I can only imagine how delighted all the individuals involved must feel to be so closely intertwined. Mr. Bingley's sister is a beauty as well. Striking red hair rarely seen without the accompanied poor complexion Miss Bingley thankfully is not stricken with. She, however, is the quintessential product of the English ton. Always the excellent diagnostician of character, it was clear to me that Miss Bingley fancied William and was less than pleased by him choosing Elizabeth rather than her. It was all so amusing. Of course, she is the sort I expected William to end up with, and after studying all the varied interactions, I can only be thoroughly elated that William's backbone and good sense prevailed. With each passing day I am coming to admire the boy more and more. James would be so very proud of his son. Pity how those events unfolded.

Elizabeth has a large family. Her mother is rather ridiculous, but her father is an interesting man. There is no doubt where Elizabeth gets her character from. We older gentlemen hit it off quite well, kindred spirits to a degree. She has two younger sisters, but I frankly had little time to become acquainted. The room was filled to overflowing. I am certain Darcy House has not seen such an extravaganza in years. Elizabeth was the perfect hostess, William his usual reserved self but with a foolish grin frequently gracing his features and eyes that lit up whenever he gazed upon his wife, which was constantly. I can remember James having much the same expression whenever he even thought of Anne. I was young enough then to tease him mercilessly about it! Now I guess I am a bit wiser and assuredly older, so these displays of affection do not annoy me as profoundly. In truth, the heart gets all fluttery, but I would not admit that anywhere but within these pages! Still, as moving as it is, even this new sentimental me is relieved to know I was never blatantly moony every time you were nearby, Jharna.

Raul charmed all the available women, and many of those who are not. That man is far too handsome for his own good! Not to mention being a royal—you know that's why I call him Raja, to his annoyance. It was requisite for me to play down his assets, so to speak, to avoid a matrimonial plot by Elizabeth's mother. I find myself curious as to what part she may have had to play in her eldest daughters wooing such eligible bachelors. No insult intended, as both Elizabeth and Jane are excellent ladies; however, their class is clearly not equal to a Darcy. Not that I ever attributed much worth to that nonsense, but it is the world we live in. Perhaps Mrs. Bennet played no part as both men are clearly smitten with their wives, but she is the type, and I have witnessed such manipulations dozens of time. More history for me to unravel. Yes, I know, Jharna, I am a busybody.

Day two was spent in the company of Malcolm. He dragged Raja and me to White's for an afternoon of debauchery and indolence. I recognized a few faces, but the truth is my years of studying in London did not allow for leisure time, nor was I one to overly hobnob with society. I could have participated more, naturally, being a Darcy, but was looked at askance for my chosen study. I was not of the Cambridge or Oxford elite, nor did I care to be, so it created a mild stigma. No one knew quite how to deal with me, and since I was never interested in another's opinion, it was easier to avoid it all. I sensed some of the same hesitation at White's. I am still a Darcy and in the company of Lord Matlock, so cannot be shunned. Yet I am also a mere doctor wearing strange clothing and toting a Spaniard in my wake! I doubt even listing Raja's pedigree would have helped! Ah well, we had a delightful time nonetheless, the liquor as excellent as always and billiard room elegant.

The remainder of the evening has been lazy. The loving couple had a prior engagement, so Raja and I stayed with the girls. Georgie's pianoforte skills have improved dramatically since I was last here. She is quite proficient. What a shame that women cannot freely pursue careers in the arts. It has never made much sense to me that our culture expects an accomplished woman to play an array of instruments, speak and read several languages, paint and draw, be expert in all methods of needlepoint, yet do nothing with any of it beyond amuse themselves and their inner circle. I can speak several tongues, having inherited that gift from my mother, but cannot play a single instrument, cannot draw beyond vague sketches of bodily parts, and can only wield a needle when sewing flesh, yet I am considered a more valued member of society! I personally think all men should be forced to observe a woman in childbirth. That would make them think twice about the weaker sex!

Rambling again. Forgive me, my faithful journal! So, here I now am reposing in my luxurious chambers at Darcy House. I am content to be home, quite delighted to be on holiday with minimal expectations on my person, not yet feeling guilty for leeching off my nephew's kindness, experiencing an odd mixture of lethargy and exuberance, sipping a fine glass of whiskey, and doing nothing more laborious then putting quill to parchment. Or rather, steel-tipped pen to parchment. Amazing invention! William seems to have inherited a curiosity of modern innovations and mechanical gadgetry from my father. I wonder if William remembers his grandfather's obsession for science and machinery? After all, the majority of the Pemberley fountains and equipment are of his designing. I shall add that to my list of topics to discuss with my nephew. For now, staring at the fire and early to bed are the only agenda items. Good night, lovely Jharna, wherever you are.

June 24

London

Spent the day trudging through the haberdasheries of Bond Street with Raul. I am exhausted! How do the ladies do this day in and day out? Boggles my mind. Anyway, Raja, noble instincts rising to the fore, decided he required a completely new wardrobe of latest English fashion. So, yesterday he inquires of William as to the best places to shop. William jumps up with unveiled enthusiasm, proceeding to jot down the finest establishments London has to offer. Raja is flushed with happiness, eyeballing William's impeccably clad figure with obvious hankering. William, while ostensibly addressing Raja, is glancing pointedly toward me and offering graciously to arrange an appointment with Mr. Renault, his personal tailor. Elizabeth met my raised eyebrow with a barely hidden laugh. Her face is so expressive!

Oddly, that particular afternoon I was wearing my most demure salwar kameez, the beige one with turquoise trim. He should be thankful I left all my dhotis behind in India! Even I did not think the English public prepared to view my legs unbound by trousers. Nevertheless, I suppose there is a logical point to my nephew's unspoken plea. All the English suits I own are woefully outdated and threadbare. I imagine there may be the occasional soiree or festivity where a proper suit will be necessary. So, alas, I did the unthinkable and allowed Raja to drag me from shop to shop, endured two hours of measuring and clucking tongues from Mr. Renault's assistants. Raja nearly bought out each establishment, any initial contempt expressed at his dark skin and accent rapidly evaporated by the wad of cash displayed. I, on the other hand, purchased lightly, acquiring only four suits and sundry accoutrements. How I will ever survive a choking cravat is frankly beyond my comprehension. Ah, the extents we will go to for love of family!

June 26

London

Raul and I reported to Company headquarters, signed the obligatory documents, and spoke with the Director (a Mr. Allison now). He was not too pleased that we refused to give a definite date for our reenlistment, or even if we will. Apparently Raja's reputation has preceded him, with his services in prime demand. This thrills me, not only because I trained him but because his skills truly are astounding and I am delighted to see this recognized. I was a bit surprised that Raja demurred regarding his conscription, he having not alluded to any uncertainty in his future. I chose to leave the subject alone for the moment, Raul mature enough to make his own choices. Whatever his decisions for the future, I am confident he will do well.

Met William and Col. Fitzwilliam for luncheon and spirits at Estad's Saloon. I cannot believe the eatery is still standing. I remember the first time I ate there: I was thirteen, still mourning Alex, and Father decided to treat me to a gentleman's outing as a way of cheering my gloominess. Additionally he thought that I was finally capable of playing the part of a gentleman. Ha! So Pearson, James's valet, dressed me in my Sunday finery complete with pocketwatch and fancy fob as well as a walking stick that I dearly wanted to wave about and poke people with, but resisted the urge! The simple fear of what my father would do to me not worth the fun I might have had. Anyway, James was in his final year at Cambridge, joining us for a few weeks while in Town for the season, and I recall that I did feel vainly dashing and arrogantly mature squired about with my distinguished father and dandified older brother. I honestly do not recollect the food served, but the atmosphere was awe inspiring to a thirteen-year-old. James acted all sophisticated and snobbish while winking at me when Father was not looking. Yes, fun times.

Of course, I have since dined at Estad's many times, although it has been a few years. Impeccable and delicious as ever. Delightful afternoon, especially as with just the four of us I had my first real opportunity to communicate intimately with my nephew. We were there for hours, sipping excellent red wine from France and engaging in lively discourse. Naturally we were approached by a dozen fellow diners who knew William. He departed the establishment with four additional commitments to the already busy schedule of him and Elizabeth. I only knew Lord and Lady Standish. He was a crony of James's who visited Pemberley a time or two with his wife; she was a dear friend of Anne's. We spent a few minutes reminiscing.

This evening William and Elizabeth have a planned engagement at the Countess von Lieven's salon. To my incredible shock, an invitation arrived yesterday for Raja and me. I suppose I should not be too surprised by the infamous Countess knowing all that goes on in the city, but why she would extend an invite to two traveling physicians is beyond my comprehension. Nevertheless, even I would be foolish to pass up an opportunity to meet the famous woman herself, so Raja and I will attend.

June 28

London

Been a couple busy days. First I must describe the evening at Countess von Lieven's salon. I contemplated wearing one of my new suits, but decided that if it was exotic foreign gentlemen the Countess wanted, then so be it! Yet to compromise and not embarrass my formal nephew, I wore my finest sherwani of grey wool. I figured that if it was acceptable for official British East India Company affairs, then it should serve. I even topped it off with matching fez, quite dashing if I say so myself. I know you would have appreciated it, Jharna, as it was the outfit you gifted to me on my fiftieth birthday. Of course, I do think it was primarily out of your desire to see me properly attired for one of your father's ceremonies! I digress, however.

The Lieven mansion on St. James's Place was stupendous, as expected. All the lights were lit, some, to my astonishment, created with gaslight! The glow was incredible, the entire Square lit as if noontime. Even though it was well after the dinner hour, the Square was bustling with nearly every house plainly hosting some soiree or ball. The Ambassador's dwelling was no exception. The door was standing open with footmen checking invitations as folks freely walked in and out. Music and laughter from within was audible without. It was so hectic and boisterous that I find it difficult to describe with any clarity.

The whole concept of salons, as popularized by the forward Frenchwomen with designs of intellectual conversation amongst artists and philosophers, has evolved with the Countess into a place to influence political matters. Much of the former reigned here as the evening's guests included writers William Wordsworth, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Leigh Hunt, and artists John Constable and J.M.W. Turner, among others I did not have the chance to meet or was unfamiliar with. Elizabeth gravitated to the artists, clearly enamored by Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Constable. The latter, especially, as apparently she and William have recently viewed an exhibition of his works, purchasing two paintings.

I confess with shame that I was astonished at how easily Elizabeth mingled with the plethora of dignitaries and their wives. As I have written, I am delighted with William's felicity and good sense to marry a woman of true value. Nonetheless, aware of Elizabeth's provincial upbringing, and having had minimal opportunity thus far to talk to her seriously, I did not quite fathom how intelligent she is. Clearly William was somewhat surprised as well. Even from his perch across the room, while discussing politics with several members of Parliament including Earl Charles Grey and George Canning (would love to have been privy to that discussion!), I noted his eyes often on his engaging wife with immense pride but mild amazement. I guess I can read William so easily as his face is so like my father's, and mine to a great extent. Quite uncanny to view another who is nearly a mirror image, but I am digressing yet again!

Elizabeth did not appear the slightest bit nervous. Perhaps that is innocence to a degree, but she conducted herself with a confidence and poise marvelous to witness. I rarely had the opportunity to join into the conversation surrounding her, my own attention captured as I will relate in a moment, but it was obvious that the people around her, both male and female, were favorably inclined. Her manners were impeccable as far as I could discern, not that I am a very good judge of proper English behavior, God knows! Still, William never seemed dismayed in any way, as I am sure he would have been if there was cause; my nephew, for all his numerous excellent qualities, is still one who keeps a tight rein on propriety and social class. Poor boy!

Raja and I found ourselves chatting part of the evening with a group of East India traders and directors. Talking shop, so to speak. The politics behind the Company never fails to make me yawn, but I suppose I do have some insight, having served for nearly thirty years. Some of the politicians in the assembly joined in, even William for a spell as he, like most wealthy Englishmen, holds stock in the Company. As a physician I never have paid much attention to the trading aspects, although I too have invested monetarily. However, as long as the revenues roll in, I really do not care how. Raja argues with me endlessly as to my lackadaisical attitude, to which I counter that if I desired to be a businessman, I would have stayed home and assisted in the management of Pemberley as my father wished! So there!!

The truth is that any Englishman worth his salt can talk politics and business, after discussing fine spirits and food, that is. It is in the blood, apparently. That and horses. And gambling and cigars. Beautiful women. Hunting and foxing. Maybe billiards too. OK, I confess, I am still as much an Englishman as you would always say, Jharna, despite my love of Indian culture!

Be that as it may, Raja and I were largely occupied and fascinated by a group of inventors and physicians added to the mix. I do not know if the inclusion of Raja and I to the guest list was due to the already invited scientific folk, or if the Countess's attendees are always so varied. Of special interest was a Dr. Albrecht from Germany, Dr. Shore from Manchester, and Dr. Nomikos from Greece who all teach at my old alma mater! We compared notes for the bulk of the evening. It was marvelous to hear of the changes to the Royal Academy as well as those things and professors that are unchanged. Raja and I were extended an invitation to visit the following day. I had planned to do so anyway, wanting to show Raja where I received my education, but having a formal invitation, luncheon included, is superior to merely spontaneously appearing at the gates and declaring myself!

In between the medical discussions, Dr. Nomikos showed us his latest acquisition: one of the new stethoscopes recently invented by the French genius Dr. Rene Laennec. I know I wrote at least a page worth of my amazed excitement at the invention when I read about it last year, so will not do so again. However, actually seeing one of the devices and testing it on a live individual was a thrilling experience beyond conveying. Dr. Nomikos traveled personally to Paris to study with Dr. Laennec and now teaches dissertations on the innovative physician's discoveries of auscultation, pulmonary, and liver diseases. Without a doubt Raja and I will attend one of his classes on the subject.

There were so many other notable persons that it would be impossible for me to list them all. Naturally the Ambassador prowled through the room, although he clearly left the prime hosting role to his illustrious wife. The Countess is everything one has read about her: physically rather plain but with a wicked wit and gregarious personality. She floated about the room with apparently ceaseless energy, charming and gracious, entering flawlessly into each conversation with her Russian accented English inerrantly offering brilliant insight no matter the topic. I spoke with her only briefly, the strange woman frankly unnerving me as she seemed to know precisely who I was, how long I had been with the Company, my professional credentials, and so on. She was enchanting and amiable in all ways, yet one got the feeling that there was clairvoyance at work! Apparently not, as she did not comment on Raja's family connections, greatly ignoring him beyond a polite greeting in fact, but it was nonetheless oddly disconcerting. I was relieved when she moved on to the next group. I could readily ascertain that she unsettled William as well, but then he does not acquit himself well in many social situations, I have found. I must teach the boy to release his subdued charm. After all, if he so physically resembles me, then the personality must be akin, yes?

We tarried until two in the morning, Elizabeth clearly too fatigued to linger longer. William worries about her so, a trait I find adorable, but considering her condition, I tend to agree with him. She certainly appears healthy enough for such a minute creature, but one cannot be too careful. William shared the details of Elizabeth's recent accident with ensuing head trauma with me, the event observably yet distressing to him, while we managed a time alone last evening. The duel itself he glossed over with regulated humility, although the lingering anger toward this nefarious Marquis was clearly evident. The description of Elizabeth's fall and subsequent unconsciousness and injuries was rendered with an attempt to relay in a detached manner, but the poor boy nearly broke down several times. How horrific for him! For the first time since my arrival I saw behind the careful regulation he wears in public. I must say, despite recognizing the affection between the two, I had not fully comprehended the deep love. What a marvel! Yes, Jharna, we loved. Deeply. But I do not think even we reached these depths. I know I miss you, your death a profound shock that I will never recover from, but have I ceased to exist? No, my dear, I am sorry to say I have not. Does that make me less of a man? Less of a devoted lover? I do not know, nor do I wish to wholly consider the subject, as it may hurt too much to reveal the flaws in my character. Sometimes introspection is best avoided. I prefer to think it just how we are designed or what fate allots us. We found each other, Jharna, and were blissfully content for many years. I do not regret it, nor do I believe I have missed something better along the way.

I recall the altered tenor of James's letters after Anne died, and the one time I visited afterwards was a staggering blow. He was utterly bereft. I have never witnessed anything quite like it. I know the poets would say that love of such a consuming nature is worth all the pain. I do not know if I concur. Maybe I simply despise pain in all its manifestations too greatly to be able to willingly place myself in its path. No, do not dwell on it! Best to be thankful for the course set for my life, thankful for the relationships I have established, and delight in the joy my dear nephew has found. What a blessing it is to be a part of it! Yes, Jharna, I am happy to be home.

July 5

London, England

Finally a positive development on the Anne de Bourgh assignment! You know how this has intrigued me, Jharna, from my first introduction to her at William's ball. Every encounter with the dear girl has further piqued my interest, but not as fully as Raja. I am not surprised particularly as he is as terrible with a medical mystery before him as I, and can never resist bringing home the wounded puppy, quite literally! Still, his focus and near obsession on the matter has stunned even me. I daresay the sadness involved with seeing a person suffering when the belief is that assistance can be offered is agonizing. I, however, have had many more years of experience then the youthful Dr. Penaflor with bizarre cultural beliefs that occasionally prohibit me performing the healing I know I could if allowed. Perhaps my heart has hardened a bit… more introspection I prefer to avoid, thank you very much!

Anyway, it was a plea from William himself that encouraged me to break my silence on the subject and put myself on the line, so to speak. I did not quite realize how close the two were, the affection real even if not of a romantic nature as Lady C desired. He approached me several afternoons ago while in the library. I love how he does this! As I have related previously, the boy's affection toward me is growing, as is mine toward him, maturing into a real relationship beyond what was anticipated for kin. A bit of a shock, actually, and faintly unsettling in its unexpectedness, but strangely comforting. Hmmm… I must dwell on the emotions a bit at a later time.

So, Miss Anne… William had picked up on Raja's absorption, overheard a smattering of conversations on the topic, and so asked me frankly what my opinion was. Naturally I gave it to him, not a problem for me to do so! He was very serious and deeply troubled. “Uncle, do you think you could really help Anne? Because if you truly do, then I would support you one hundred percent in discovering a way to overcome Lady Catherine's dominance. My cousin has suffered for too long, and if you are correct in your diagnosis, has suffered falsely. This is intolerable. What can we do?”

It was so heartfelt that I could not refuse to accept the challenge. And yes, I confess the vision of ruffling Lady C's feathers was appealing! He chuckles evilly. That aside, the question was how to wisely go about the issue. It was my brilliant idea to talk to Malcolm. The power and prestige of Lord Matlock and all that rot. He was frankly stunned at our diagnosis from afar, having only heard the conclusions from Lady C's medical hacks. He was a bit skeptical, naturally, and I was sagacious, humbly demurring that we could be in error (although I was certain we were not) but would not know until we could physically examine the girl. The more we talked I could discern that he rather savored the idea of hassling his overbearing sister, although he would never admit to the emotion, so I let it pass. Yes, Jharna, I can be politic when I deem it proper! Now we will wait and see what transpires. Raja, bless his soul, is glowing in happiness. Very odd.

July 9

London

Whew! What a week! Besides the numerous dinner engagements, musical entertainments, and so on (Egad, how do people do this year in and year out?), Raja and I finally were allowed to examine Miss de Bourgh. It would take the entire book to fully detail the drama, and even then I do not think I could do it justice. Let me attempt the highlights.

What Malcolm said or did I have no idea. Today, as we sat about after breakfast doing basically nothing, a message arrives from Malcolm insisting Dr. Penaflor and I hasten to the de Bourgh townhouse immediately. Thankfully doctors are used to such summons, so we grabbed our bags and were ready before the carriage had been brought around.

We were greeted by Malcolm, who steered us quickly into the small parlor. “I have badgered Catherine for days and she has finally relented, sort of. Actually it is Anne who called for you to be here, standing up to her mother as I have never seen before. I was unaware that she even knew of the interest and discussion of her health. Frankly I am still abashed, and I do not think Catherine will ever recover! I suppose we have for too long thought of her as a child. Be that as it may, she is waiting and Catherine is momentarily stupefied, so follow me.”

The examination was proceeding well, and as we expected, until we were interrupted by Lady C's London physician barging in. Apparently she was not as stupefied as Malcolm thought. As an aside, I was dressed in my typical attire; cool and altogether comfortable as well as roguishly handsome, I might add. Raja was dressed in one of his new suits. As impeccable as William always is, somehow managing to look serene and breezy despite the scorching climate and humidity. Handsome to be sure, but one would think him Adonis incarnate the way Miss Anne's eyes roosted on him, all aglow and adoring. She ignored me completely. Maybe I am losing my charm. I was amused and disconcerted simultaneously. However, there has been no time to explore the sentiments, nor was Raja anything but the consummate professional. Very odd.

Dr. Hayes, fifties, short and obese, naturally florid and profusely veined face not benefiting positively by a bellicose fit, was quite verbose in his opinion of our medical expertise. His command of the English language was impressive, I will give him that, at least for a time that is. Eventually the silent disregard from Raja and me wore on his nerves. Either that or the screeches of Lady C began to bother him as well, because he began to splutter a bit and repeat the curses. Malcolm had a hold of his arm, to keep him from rushing us I presume, but was unable to drag him away. Poor Miss Anne was mortified, Raja and I unable to focus on her while we tried to speak rationally to the raging man. It was messy and extremely perturbing, even to me who rather wallows in drama.

I do think we were all at an impasse, no one coherently paying attention to anyone, when a sudden shrill whistle pierced the air. It was Anne! She was sitting up in bed, her face undoubtedly ruddier than it has been in years, eyes flashing, and jaw clenched alarmingly. Needless to say, we were all speechless. “You!” she snapped in a ringing voice, pointing a rigid finger at the nearly apoplectic doctor, “Will leave this instant! How you can barge uninvited into a lady's room in this manner is unconscionable! Uncle Malcolm, take him away. Mother, I wish for you to stay, but remain silent, I beg you. I need to hear what they have to say! Please, allow me this.”

Then the poor dear seemed to deflate as a balloon, collapsing onto the pillows with tears falling and the rush of color fading drastically to leave her paler than ever. Broke my heart. Raja was giving her his patented empathetic face that I have seen melt many a folk. Finally the atmosphere calmed and with Lady C observing avidly from the side, Raja and I resumed. Aided tremendously by our new stethoscopes and with the knowledge gleaned from Dr. Nomikos's lecture, we confidently concluded our original diagnosis. Miss Anne, per her answers to our questions, began feeling ill in her late teens. Fatigue of a general type that gradually increased, pallor, faint tremors with exertion as well as dyspnea and vague heart palpitations, muscle spasms, loss of concentration, occasional ulcers to the corners of her mouth, and flattened brittle fingernails. Classic signs of anemia. Her heart was strong, if beating a bit too fast, although whether that was from her illness or recent distress is impossible to say. I confess that Raja and I both listened for an inordinate amount of time to her heart and lungs, the stethoscope enabling us to hear sounds crisper and simply undetectable by placing an ear to the chest. Quite amazing and far less embarrassing to the patient, but I digress.

We spoke at great length to both Miss Anne and Lady C. Anne's eyes glowed with a hope that was heart wrenching to witness. I stressed that although we were certain of the diagnosis, the cause is impossible to pinpoint. The treatments, mainly of a dietary nature with supplements of an iron-rich tonic and various herbals brewed into tea, will absolutely improve her condition but will not be a cure and the degree of improvement can vary. Lady C seized upon that unsurety, apparently gleaning some sort of bizarre joy in knowing that we could not cure her daughter. How very sad it was, Raja unable to hide his disdain. Anyway, we finally departed with the promise to check on her again and provide the tonic's formula to the apothecary of her choosing. All in all a good day's accomplishment!

July 15

London

William, Elizabeth, and Georgie will be departing on the morrow for Pemberley. I have been rather torn. My heart desires to view my ancestral home with a tangible ache, but I am also enjoying the wonders of this great city. Raja is complacent, leaving the decision up to me. Col. Fitzwilliam, however, has arranged some time away from his Regiment and was hoping we could stay around for the type of diversions only bachelors are allowed to partake in. As he put it, with a wink toward a scowling William. Under the awkward circumstances I chose not to point out that there is many a married man who continually partakes in such diversions. I do believe William would have tossed me out of the house if I had joked in such a manner. The boy has a wicked sense of humor, but not about topics moral.

Ah, William! What an amazing young man! As I have related in numerous passages, I am continually startled by his intelligence and breadth of knowledge. James and Anne would be so very proud. The past several days have allotted us many hours to commune privately. Raja has been so busy with his daily visits to Miss de Bourgh, cavorting with the friends he has made, and the lectures on Spanish and Indian medicine he has been giving at the Academy that I have not seen much of him. William has concluded the bulk of his business affairs and with Elizabeth and the girls busy most afternoons at teas or shopping or whatever else it is women do in their spare time, William and I have been left alone. As you would always say, Jharna, I do have a lazy streak in me, so lying about on the comfortable chairs in the library has been a delight. Since William attends to his business in there, and also has a moderate lazy streak I have noticed as well as a love of literature, we end up conversing without really planning it.

Today he rather haltingly asked my opinion on Elizabeth's health. She has been rather like a bustling bee, flittering from one event to the next with seemingly inexhaustive energy. However, I, like William, have noticed grey shadows under her lovely eyes. Apparently William discussed his concerns with Madeline, and her advice was to leave it be and trust. I concurred, especially as they will be leaving tomorrow for the quiet restfulness of Pemberley. The conversation flowed, and before I really know how it happened, he was telling me the entire tale of how he met the beautiful Miss Bennet and their convoluted history toward matrimony. Quite the story! No, Jharna, I did not badger it out of him! He offered it up freely, not that I can pretend that my curiosity over the subject was not high.

Further proof of what I had already surmised: this is a relationship and marriage of extreme emotion and the truest love I think I have ever witnessed, except perhaps for James and Anne. What a marvel it is! I must say, as he related his first encounters with Elizabeth and how his infatuation grew, it brought back memories of you, Jharna. Not that our liaison was remotely the same, quite the contrary in fact, which is why I found myself musing on it. There were no sparks when we met the first time at your father's fiftieth birthday gala. Lord, that man can put on a party! I was so young then, only in India for one year, and still captivated by the cultural differences. We have laughed on it often since, my dear, how you thought I was foppish and vain while I barely glanced your way. Of course you were married then, so I would have been a louse to do so! I was instead intrigued by the dozens of other beautiful women about, including your sisters! My, how things may have gone differently if any of them had paid me any mind!

No, it is not the similarities but more the oddities of how life weaves loose threads into patterns of beauty even with the knots and errors visible. I loved your husband, Jharna. Kshitij Ullas was one of the finest physicians I have ever met in all my travels and taught me more than any other single person. He was my mentor, friend, father, and companion. I grieved when he died, more than many who claimed to do so. Despite the love that grew between us, dearest Jharna, and the joy we shared, I would still to this day give my soul to have Kshitij Ullas alive and scolding me for some dim-witted mistake! Yet, at the same time, I cannot imagine the fifteen years we spent together passing in any way but in your arms. I have long since given up trying to find the logic in it. I suppose it is as William said while telling me his tale, some things are simply meant to be. Karma, you would say in that imperiously serene tone that I adored, nodding sagely.

My admiration for William grew exponentially during those hours. And my happiness for what he has built with Elizabeth. They are almost nauseating in their adulation for each other, the barely suppressed passion humorous to observe and tremendously refreshing. The man that William has become, the husband and soon-to-be father, is a man worth knowing. It comes back to timing, Jharna, or karma if you prefer. Your death nearly two years ago (Lord, has it really been that long?) was the greatest loss I have ever experienced, except perhaps for Alex. I have gone on living, fairly easily I thought, with my usual eccentric habits and optimism and jocoseness intact. Yet, my continual dreams of home and family invaded my tranquility, so much so that I reckoned a visit to the homeland was beckoning. The news of William's marriage lent credence to the excursion. The excitement to be home I anticipated, although I have been surprised at my lack of restlessness. Of course, it has only been a month. What I honestly did not anticipate was the developing relationship with William. Frankly, the staid William of my previous acquaintance was not really the type of person I gravitate towards, nor do I believe I was more than a vague annoyance to him. It is vastly different now. He is different now. As am I, I suppose. Whatever the case, I am highly enjoying our evolving friendship. And Elizabeth and Georgie! My, it has been many a year since I have been surrounded by such a wealth of female attention! Even Elizabeth's sisters are beginning to loosen up a bit and falling under the charms of George! Ha!!

Yes, I hear you laughing, Jharna.

July 25

Pemberley, Derbyshire

Home at last! We arrived yesterday, the weather precisely as I remember it being this time of year. Hot and dry, sun shining beautifully and touching the Peaks and fields below with rays of gold. Stunning. All the pastures are a vivid green that almost hurts the eyes. And Pemberley, ah, my beloved Pemberley! How beautiful she is. Mr. Clark is still the head groundskeeper, William informs me. Obviously he has followed in his father's footsteps with equal skill as the gardens are perfection. I rose before dawn today in order to meander through the pathways in solitude as the sunrise woke the flowers, the aromas rising deliciously. I was almost late for breakfast, so lost in my reverie was I! I know, me late for a meal!

I did not have the chance to write ere we departed Kent. Miss de Bourgh was finally allowed to accompany us, but it was a dramatic scene, I am told. Raja and I stayed at the inn while Malcolm and Madeline confronted Lady C. William and Elizabeth had cleverly addressed the formal invitation to Miss Anne only. I know for a fact they rendered no formal invitations to anyone else, the festival primarily for the staff, and the inclusion of family a given. That William was quite put out by Miss Bingley insinuating herself into the company was obvious, at least to me. One annoying relative is enough, so they were succinct in their invitation to Miss Anne.

She is responding very well to the treatment. I have noticed a number of revealing glances between Miss de Bourgh and Raja. Not sure how I feel about it. I would be thrilled to see both young people find love, Miss Anne especially as she deserves some reward for tolerating her mother all these years with stoic patience. However, it is easy to misplace gratitude for affection. What is surprising is that Raja seems to be drawn to her and he has never taken his innate empathy to such degrees. I will study the situation carefully, not that there is much I can do to halt it, but I do not wish to see either hurt unduly.

Elizabeth, I am relieved to note, appears her sunny, exuberant self. Her pregnancy by all appearances seems to be progressing without complications. William is walking a foot off the ground, his eyes following her every move, not that they did not do so before. The day we arrived he was retrieving furniture from the attic. I was delighted to see the old cradle. I remember Phillip lying in it, as well as William so many years later. I know it is an heirloom, probably slept in it myself, although as there were two of us I truly do not know what Mother did! Should ask William if he unveiled a second cradle in the attic. Interesting.

I am anxious for the festival. Elizabeth is being quite secretive about the planned activities, although I can readily discern from her smug expression that it is to be an extravaganza extraordinaire! I have such fond memories of past festivals. Mother vainly tried to keep us inside but we always snuck out and mingled with the servant's children, all of us getting filthy and eating until we were ill. Good times. I specifically recall that it was the day before the Festival when James turned twenty, home from University for the summer and to celebrate his birthday on June 4, and my parents invited old Lord Matlock and his family to the Manor for the party. It was the first James, or any of us for that matter, had seen the Fitzwilliam girls for a number of years. Malcolm and James were at Cambridge together and close friends, so Father decided to include them on the guest list. Anne was fifteen, I think, and absolutely stunning. So was Muriel actually. Catherine was not there, as I remember, probably married to Sir Louis, now that I consider it. Anyway, even Alex and I at twelve could appreciate an attractive female, but James? Lord Almighty! One would think by his age he had seen his share of gorgeous ladies, but apparently not. Or, more to the point, I now know in my age-earned wisdom, not the one who would steal his heart. James took one look at Lady Anne and fell head over heels. It was clear to everyone present; James completely tongue tied and goggled eyed. Ridiculous, in fact, and Alex and I loved it! Teased him mercilessly, but he was undeterred, even when threatening to beat us senseless. Yes, indeed, happy memories!

July 31

Pemberley

Visited Rowan Lake today for a refreshing picnic organized at the last minute by Pemberley's most excellent Mistress. However, before I relate the day's fun, I must jot down the astonishing and amusing conversation with William earlier in the morning.

He discovered me where I was hiding in the library, entering sheepishly and carrying an enormous book in his arms and asking if he could have a private chat. It was exactly the opening I had been waiting for without even realizing it. He had questions about Elizabeth's pregnancy and birth, all understandable and typical questions, but the very fact that he was inquiring about a delicate, female-related topic proved to me even further the superior nature of the relationship they have. I teased him a bit as it still sends me into near hysterics how a grown man, married to boot, can blush so readily! Brilliant! I was kind though, turning on my Dr. Darcy pose and launching into it.

His quick grasp of matters obstetrical did not surprise me in the least. William's intellect is no longer a revelation. Nor was I overly shocked that he would be intimately curious about his wife's condition. I suppose I should have been though, as it is highly irregular, yet for some reason I was not. Everything about the Darcys' relationship has amazed me. Their level of intimacy shared, so blatantly apparent to anyone with a moderately discerning eye, is profound in its depth, so it seemed natural that he would want to know what to expect and what his beloved wife would suffer. Nonetheless, I was stunned on two counts: One, I suggested he consider being with Elizabeth during her delivery and after only a brief moment of flabbergast, he embraced the notion utterly and with an obvious relief that was uplifting to witness. Second, and secretly for the time being, I realized that I want, more than anything I have wanted in recent months, to be the one who delivers their baby! I truly did not anticipate the emotion and was frankly overwhelmed. Luckily William was caught up with his own emotions and did not notice me swallowing repeatedly and furiously blinking my eyes! Heavens! What is happening to me? I swear I have become a sentimental old fool overnight!

We talked for a long time, covering everything I could think of about the remaining months of her pregnancy and the birth process itself. No matter how delicate or vague I attempted to be, William always asked something pointed, frequently grasping a concept yet elucidated or leaping forward several steps while I was still explaining the fundamentals! Wonderful boy! All blushing ceased, William immersing himself so fully into the topic that I think a herd of elephants could have roared through the room and he would not have flinched. I have never seen a person focus as he does, except perhaps me when dealing with a medical trauma. I was frankly exhausted, truly at a loss as to what other information to impart, but he kept on, always thinking of something or referring to some obscure line in the textbook, which I think he has memorized cover to cover. I am quite certain we would still be in the room if not for Elizabeth interrupting to drag us away for the picnic.

Her brows rose dramatically at noting the book, but she said nothing. “Uncle and I were talking,” William says with dry understatement, meeting Elizabeth's glittering gaze candidly. The humorous lilt to her lovely lips was telling though, and I swear the two exchanged a full conversation without uttering a word. Marvelous!

August 7

Pemberley

Seems as if I barely arrived and now I am leaving! Not sure what came over me yesterday, but tomorrow most of us are departing, except for William and Elizabeth, who will be touring the southern Midlands. And, if I know my nephew even slightly, most likely purchasing anything remotely infant related within a fifty-mile radius.

I feel the itch to travel, but not with the same vagrancy typical of me. No, Jharna, it is not my usual restlessness. Quite the opposite, in fact. These past weeks have been so marvelous, and being at Pemberley has filled my soul with a peace I honestly have not felt in decades, even with you, my devoted lover. It is home. Perhaps I am sensing my mortality creeping up on me, not that I plan on departing this earth anytime soon. Fifty-three is far from old, I declare with shaking fist to the heavens! No, it is still this blasted sentimentality that has invaded my person. Ga!

The simple truth is that I feel the complete opposite of restless. What would that be? Calm, abeyant, satisfied? All of the above, I suppose. So, I want to take advantage of the fine weather and visit a few more old friends in London and the surrounds, and then visit Estella. All of this traveling and imposing on other's hospitality is welcomed with great anticipation, yet also because I want to be done with it and return to Pemberley before the winter and Baby Darcy is born. I planted the seed yesterday, both William and Elizabeth surprised by my hint. I do hope they take this separation to get used to the idea because I will deliver their child if I have to apply my brutal strength to the task and physically evict the midwife from the room! Of course, they adore me so I do not think that will be necessary. Yes, Jharna, smug as always.

Additionally, the lovers need some time alone. I swear those two are as transparent as glass. I know a gentleman should not entertain musings of another's sexual relationship, but it is nearly impossible not to do so around them! Poor Georgiana. Good thing she is used to being on her own because I seriously doubt she sees any more of her brother now then she did before! Be that as it may, they are rather cute together—awful word but it is apropos in this case—so I am casting no negative judgments. Warms the heart, actually, which is another reason I need to depart for awhile: I am becoming far too maudlin with all this romance in the air. Time for the Colonel and me to remember we are bachelors, loose and unencumbered!

Raja, I am coming to accept with equanimity and happiness, shall likely not be counted amongst the unattached for very much longer. As I have written, the affection, nay Love… call it what it is, George… is genuine between him and Miss Anne. His plan, he tells me now, is to work his charm on Lady C. I advised him just to tell her he is royalty and that will be that; but he is far too noble, wants to earn her approval on his own merits, gain respect, etc. I just laughed, slapped him on the back, and wished him well in the endeavor. So first I absolutely have to tarry in Kent as I would not miss this for the world!

Malcolm and Madeline are off to tour through Wales, taking Georgiana with them. Leaves the newlyweds utterly alone, which I know pleases them. They intend to take a small jaunt through the lower Midlands, William told me. He wants his wife to be familiar with her new shire. Plus I think they plan to purchase baby essentials. I thought it odd they did not denude London of every last diapering cloth or bonnet. Apparently they have chosen to strip Derby bare instead! First, however, he asks me seriously if I felt a woman in her fifth month should travel. I assured him that pregnant women are truly not all that fragile, especially with husbands who dote and fret so ridiculously. He was not particularly amused, but reassured. Besides, what can possible go wrong in my beautiful and peaceful agricultural county?

Anyway, I am off to Kent and then Darcy House for a spell before Devon. No agendas! Absolutely not! Allow the wind to carry me wherever it sees fit. Perhaps no longer restless per se, but definitely insouciant and aimless!