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.
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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 re
gulation 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!