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

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.