The Passions of Dr. Darcy

  Copyright © 2013 by Sharon Lathan

  Cover and internal design © 2013 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Vivian Ducas

  Cover images © Self Portrait, c. 1818 (oil on canvas), Cogniet, Leon (1794–1880) / Musee des Beaux-Arts, Orleans, France / Giraudon / The Bridgeman Art Library; © Taj Mahal (w/c on paper), Ram, Sita (19th Century) / © Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, Massachusetts, USA / The Bridgeman Art Library

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  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Apart from well-known historical figures, any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  A Message from Sharon

  Cast of Characters

  Prologue: A Most Beloved Uncle

  1. Derbyshire

  2. Bombay Island

  3. Mazagaon

  4. Kalyan

  5. Mysore

  6. Derbyshire

  7. Thana

  8. Junnar

  9. Derbyshire

  10. Agra

  11. Calcutta

  12. Bombay

  13. London

  14. Europe

  15. Kent

  Epilogue: The Greatest Adventure of All

  Historical Notes and Acknowledgments

  Glossary

  Map of Dr. Darcy’s India

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Dedicated to my husband,

  Steve Lathan.

  Through twenty-six years

  of better and worse, he has been my comfort and strength

  second only to my Lord Jesus, who is my Rock.

  A Message from Sharon

  Somewhere in the middle of writing what became my first novel in the Darcy Saga, I decided Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was going to have an uncle. My vision was a man who had been away from England for decades, traveling the world doing… something. I wanted him to be brilliant but eccentric, ebullient, and irreverent. In short, the opposite of Mr. Darcy! I named him George and, after a tiny bit of research, made him a physician in India with the British East India Company. Partially this decision was based on my knowledge of medicine and how that profession would work into the greater story line. Primarily the decision was because India was far away and sounded exotic! The truth was, Dr. George Darcy was a misty character who was meant to breeze in, ruffle Fitzwilliam a bit, add some fun and humor, and then breeze back to far away India. All through Loving Mr. Darcy that was the plan. He didn’t need a back story or serious purpose. He was an expendable character! I no longer recall exactly when I decided I loved George too much to let him go. Probably around the time he delivered Elizabeth Darcy’s son in My Dearest Mr. Darcy. I stubbornly clung to the plan, even as George was revealing more of his life on the pages I typed. I swear the pushy fellow took over the keyboard! I was learning about him without forethought. He decided long before I did that he was not expendable, that his life was far more exciting than I imagined, and that England was now his home. Furthermore, George knew before I did that his future wasn’t that of a simple country physician happily dwelling with family. Oh no! He had lots more life in him!

  That is the inspiration of this novel. Dr. George Darcy was birthed in my brain as a passionate man with an incredible story to tell even if I did not realize it. The drops of his past that he shared while I was writing were the tip of the iceberg. I passed those hints to readers, but it wasn’t until delving deeply into George’s history that everything took shape. In the year plus spent researching and writing this novel, I learned far more than my previous cursory studies for an expendable character required. Setting George Darcy entirely in India from 1789 to 1817 proved vastly different from providing the brief glances of his experiences as I had done before. Because of this, I discovered that a few of the casual references to George’s past that are strewn throughout the Darcy Saga novels did not always coincide with his adventures and timeline in this book. Every step of the way, I plotted his life as close to what I had established as possible, and 95 percent of it worked out. There are some exceptions, however, and I hope my readers will understand why and forgive me. For instance, in Loving Mr. Darcy, Fitzwilliam tells Elizabeth that George visited after his father James died and then again four years later. While this sounded reasonable at the time, I later learned that the average sea voyage from India to England was five months. This calculates to nearly a year on a ship! Add in the time visiting, and I realized George would need a very good reason to undertake that journey. As revealed in this novel, he had every reason not to make that trip. Another issue was calculating the precise passage of months and years to correlate with historical events happening in India that I wanted George to be a participant in. Plotting his intricate lifetime to mesh with history, other characters, and the future I created for him subtly altered what I had originally delineated. The differences are slight and nothing that affects the whole. I only mention it to assure that these are not errors from neglect but due to fine-tuning Dr. Darcy’s life course while writing his story.

  Another item to note is that the George Darcy I originally introduced and fell in love with—and that those of you who have read the Saga know well—is a man of fifty years who has already experienced the story I am now revealing. My challenge was imagining George Darcy at twenty-two! Who was he then? How did the events of his life mold him into the mature man we love? This, of course, was one of the incredible joys in writing this novel! A person at one point in life is not identical to who he is a decade, two decades, or three decades later. Therefore, anticipate that you are meeting a new George Darcy with attributes similar to the man from my Saga but also possessing traits that will surprise you. My hope is that you will enjoy acquainting yourself with the younger George, your love growing stronger as you travel with him through his evolution.

  Lastly, the final three chapters of this novel cover the years after George’s return to England in June of 1817. I do not rehash what I have already written within the pages of the Darcy Saga, so to fully enjoy George’s interactions with the Darcys or to understand the references, those novels will need to be read; instead, I remain in George’s point of view to fill in the blanks, share his thoughts on what occurred, and to recount new events not hinted at previously. And of course, the end is not really the end, because George lives on for many years. Hopefully, I will write more of his life at a later date. If I do, you can be sure it will be fabulous, because if there is one incontrovertible fact of Dr. George Darcy at any age, it is that he is never boring!

  Thank you for joining George and me on this journey.

  Sincerely,

  Sharon Lathan

  Cast of Characters

  Dr. George Darcy: born January 12, 1767; second son of James and Emily Darcy; sib
lings Mary, James, Alexander, Estella, and Philip; earned doctorate of medicine from Cambridge University and licentiate from Royal College of Physicians in London at twenty-two years of age; contracted with the British East India Company as a physician in 1789

  In India

  Dr. Kshitij Ullas: Indian physician, friend, and mentor

  Jharna Dhamdhere Ullas: Indian wife of Dr. Ullas; daughter of the Sardar of Thana; cousin to the Maratha Peshwa

  Nimesh Ullas: oldest son of Kshitij and Jharna Ullas; born 1787; wife Ziana

  Sasi Ullas: second son of Kshitij and Jharna Ullas; born 1790; wife Daya

  Dr. Searc McIntyre: Scottish physician in Bombay with British East India Company; wife Lileas, daughters Kenna and Lorna

  Dr. White: Physician General of Medical Services on Bombay Island

  Commander Doyle: Commanding Officer of Bombay Headquarters for the British East India Company

  Lord and Lady Burgley: Bombay residents

  Reed Dawson: ensign, later Lieutenant, at Bombay Headquarters

  Miss Sarah Chambers: daughter of the Viscount and Viscountess Powis; resident of Mazagaon on Bombay Island

  Thakore Sahib Pandey Dhamdhere: Sardar of Thana; Jharna’s father

  Duke of Larent: English aristocrat

  Lady Ruby Thomason: daughter of the Earl of Yardley

  Anoop: Indian manservant to Dr. Darcy

  Vani Ullas Nirmal: Dr. Ullas’s daughter from first marriage

  Dr. Trenowyth: Physician General of Medical Service on Bombay Island, successor to Dr. White; later Surgeon-General of the Bombay Medical Services for the Bombay Presidency

  Gita Dhamdhere: Jharna’s aunt

  Dr. Raul Penaflor Aleman de Vigo: Spanish physician in Calcutta and later Bombay

  In England

  James Darcy the Elder: Master of Pemberley in Derbyshire and Darcy House in London; George’s father

  James Darcy II: heir to Pemberley; George’s older brother

  Lady Anne Fitzwilliam Darcy: James’s wife, children Alexandria (deceased), Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana

  Henry Vernor: Pemberley neighbor and close friend to the Darcy family; wife Mary, children Gerald and Bertha; residence Sanburl Hall in Derbyshire

  Sir Louis and Lady Catherine de Bourgh: family to Darcys (Lady Catherine and Lady Anne are sisters); daughter Anne; residence Rosings Park in Kent

  Earl and Countess of Matlock: parents of Catherine, Anne, and Malcolm; surname Fitzwilliam; residence Rivallain in Matlock

  Mary Darcy Oeggl: George’s eldest sister, husband Baron Oeggl; home Austria

  Estella Darcy Montrose: George’s older sister, husband Xavier Montrose; home Exeter, Devon

  Alexander Darcy: George’s twin brother; died in 1779 at twelve years of age

  Fitzwilliam Darcy: son of James and Lady Anne Darcy; George’s nephew; “William” to his family; heir to and later Master of Pemberley and Darcy House

  Elizabeth Bennet Darcy: wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy

  Georgiana Darcy: daughter of James and Lady Anne Darcy; George’s niece and namesake

  Mrs. Amanda Annesley: companion to Georgiana Darcy

  Earl and Countess of Matlock: Malcolm Fitzwilliam and wife Madeline; parents of Jonathan, Annabella, and Richard

  Richard Fitzwilliam, Colonel: Fitzwilliam Darcy’s cousin and closest friend

  Charles Bingley: friend of Fitzwilliam Darcy; wife Jane Bennet

  Mrs. Sutherland: Pemberley housekeeper until 1791, then Mrs. Reynolds

  Mr. Wickham: Steward of Pemberley Estate until 1811, then Mr. Keith

  Mr. Taylor: Pemberley butler

  Mr. Higgs: Pemberley gamekeeper until 1800, then Mr. Burr

  Historical Figures

  Shivaji Maharaj: also Shivaji Bhosle, or Chhatrapati (sovereign) Shivaji; February 19, 1630–April 1, 1680; founded the Maratha Empire, an independent nation in India free of Mughal rule; a brilliant military leader, exemplary warrior, morally upright, believer in civil and women’s rights, devout Hindu but advocate of religious freedom, capable administrator, and abolisher of the Indian feudal system, Shivaji is considered one of the greatest Indian leaders of all time

  Sawai Madhavrao Peshwa: ruler of the Maratha Empire 1774–1795; death by suicide without an heir

  Baji Rao II Peshwa: ruler of Maratha Empire from 1796–1818

  Tipu Sultan: the Tiger of Mysore

  Jonathan Duncan: Governor of Bombay Presidency from December 1795–August 1811

  Arthur Wellesley: Commander of East India Company army from 1798–1804; later Duke of Wellington

  Richard Wellesley, Earl of Mornington, Marquess of Wellesley: Governor-General of India from 1798–1805; elder brother of Arthur Wellesley

  Earl of Minto: Governor-General of India from 1807–1813

  Earl of Moira, Marquess of Hastings: Governor-General of India 1813–1823

  Dr. John Shoolbred: Superintendent and Surgeon of Calcutta Native Hospital

  Prologue

  A Most Beloved Uncle

  Elizabeth Darcy opened the well-oiled door slowly, hesitating outside as her eyes scanned the room not stepped foot in for over a month. Tears welled as her gaze lingered over the odd but familiar objects, sadness mounting as she noted how many of the once-shiny instruments and immaculate tabletops were now covered with a thin layer of dust.

  “No need to lurk without, dearest. Please come in.”

  “I thought you might wish for more time alone,” she replied as she swung the door wider and crossed the threshold. “I am overcome with a renewed rush of grief so can only imagine the state of your emotions.”

  Fitzwilliam Darcy sat on a worn leather wingback chair. On the floor in front of his knees was a massive old trunk. It was scraped, patched in places with glued pieces of cloth and leather, dented on the right side, rusted along the edges of the metal bracings, and missing the strap to lift the lid. Yet despite the evidence of hard use and age, the trunk was structurally intact. Darcy’s hands were spread on the top beside a brass plate etched with the words George Darcy, Physician.

  “This trunk was a gift to him from my parents and grandfather,” Darcy whispered.

  Lizzy knew this, of course, George having told them the story of when it was gifted to him. She also knew that her husband simply needed to talk and was not seeking a conversation. She sat on the ottoman that had been shoved aside when the trunk was dragged over, folded her hands into her lap, and waited.

  “I haven’t been in here since…” He swallowed and blinked several times before continuing. “I felt it was time, but now I am not so sure.” He ran his fingers over the plate bearing the name of his beloved uncle, fighting the tears not because he was embarrassed to shed them in front of his wife—goodness knows he had done so often enough over the long years of their marriage, especially recently—but because he wanted to control himself so he could attend to the task at hand. Inhaling raggedly, he resumed, “She said that George no longer kept his medical supplies in his trunk, which makes sense, as he had the cupboards here in his hospital and the smaller traveling cases. Apparently he kept his personal memoirs in here instead. I had no idea he wrote in a journal.”

  Darcy looked up at his wife, a hint of a smile on his face. “I am not sure why I am surprised. It is something we Darcys do. Me, my father, and grandfather. My mother did as well, although not diligently. Alexander does, and a smattering of other Darcys from the past. The glass cases in the library are proof of the habit. Yet somehow I doubt any of our dry narratives of estate management, antics of our children, or London social events will compare with his adventures. She told me it was George’s wish for me to read them and then display them with the others in the library.”

  He reached into his waistcoat pocket, removed a key, and unlocked the lid, which pushed open with the faintest of squeaks. Lizzy scooted closer
and leaned in just as Darcy did, both gazing into the trunk with jaws dropping.

  The trunk was filled with bound books in dozens of varying sizes and types of covers. Not an inch of space wasted, the books neatly stacked into piles with dimension the qualifier rather than chronology. A journal dating 1803 sat on top of one from 1782 and beside one from 1838. There were easily seventy separate books, a few thick, spanning the bulk of one man’s life.

  “No wonder the damn thing was so heavy. I nearly dislocated my arms dragging it the four feet to this chair. Reading all of these will take a year!”

  “Then I suggest we get started. Any ideas?”

  “She said that the first was on the top. This one here, I am guessing.” Darcy picked up one that was fraying at the binding and opened it gingerly. “1779.”

  “Has she read them all?”

  “I believe so, or most of them at least. She is his wife, after all, and they shared everything. I am not sure about his children, but if not, they will want to. And for certain these will require, and deserve, a case specifically made to house them.”

  He turned to the first page, silent for a minute as they studied the childish but familiar cursive of a man they loved deeply and would achingly miss forever. The raw pain of their loss made the first words scrawled by a then twelve-year-old George Darcy especially poignant.

  Dear Alex,

  Father insisted I start keeping a journal. He said it will help ease my grief if I air out my feelings. I have stared at this stupid book for a month now. I think the blasted thing is mocking me. Then he asked me if I had written in it yet and you know how it is when Father looks at you in that certain way of his that makes you feel guilty even if you haven’t done anything wrong, although usually I have, so it is even worse. That look. So I said no and he just nodded, and for a second I thought that would be the end of it, but then he said, “Write in the book, George.” So here I am. Writing to you as if you were alive and I were talking to you, which I do all the time anyway. Does that make me crazy? Maybe. I don’t care though. So I’ll do what Father bids, since the consequences of another lashing don’t make my rear end all that happy. Here goes…