Chapter Three

Elizabeth

15 th January 1812

Outside Meryton, Hertfordshire

T he January air was crisp and cold, a light frost clinging to the barren trees lining the road to Longbourn. Elizabeth Bennet sat beside her father in the old cart, the horse’s hooves skittering on the frozen ground. The winter landscape stretched before them, a patchwork of white and grey beneath a pale, overcast sky.

Mr Bennet broke the silence. “I think it will be good for Jane to go to London for a few weeks with your aunt and uncle. She’s been so downcast lately.”

Elizabeth nodded, her breath visible in the cold air. “I agree, Papa. Jane needs a change of scenery, and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are always such good company. I’m glad they invited her.”

Her father sighed, his brow furrowed with worry. “I’ve been quite concerned about her. It’s not like your sister to be so despondent.”

“Jane will recover,” Elizabeth said reassuringly, although she didn’t feel quite so sure. Ever since Jane had discovered the truth about Mr Bingley’s abandonment, she had not been herself. The letter from Caroline Bingley, informing her that they would not be returning to Netherfield, had only made things worse. Caroline’s kind words had reeked of falseness and even Jane hadn’t been able to deny it. Still, for her father’s sake, she had to remain positive, even if it was as false as Caroline’s words. “She always does. She just needs time.”

Mr Bennet turned to her, a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes. “I suppose you are correct. I am glad you have been invited too, I know you would otherwise miss Jane greatly—though your mother tells me that the Collinses have invited you to visit their home in Hunsford. Will you travel to Kent, as well?”

Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I’m not sure I want to go, Papa. You know Lady Catherine is Mr Darcy’s aunt. He might call on her, Charlotte said he was due for a visit. The idea of seeing Mr Darcy bothers me. He brought so much misery onto poor Jane.”

Mr Bennet chuckled softly. “You’ve made this Darcy the villain in the story, just like your mother has, Lizzy. But let’s not forget it was Mr Bingley who decided to vanish without a direct word to Jane. To me that is the action of a coward.”

Elizabeth considered this. “Perhaps it is easier to blame Mr Darcy because I don’t know him. But I’m just so sad for Jane.”

Her father patted her hand gently. “All will be well, Lizzy. Jane will recover. Being away from home will do her good.”

Just then, he abruptly pulled the cart to a halt. “Perdition!”

Elizabeth, startled, looked at him with wide eyes. “Papa, what is it?”

He pointed to the side of the road. “Look there, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth followed his gaze and gasped. Lying face down in the middle of the road was a man, motionless and half-covered in frost.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the figure, dread and urgency mingling within her. The cold, still air seemed to thicken around them as they realised the gravity of what they had found. Elizabeth and her father exchanged a quick, horrified glance before they jumped down from the cart and ran towards the figure. As they drew closer, Elizabeth’s heart pounded even harder.

“Stay back, Lizzy,” her father instructed, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

Elizabeth stopped a few paces away, watching with bated breath as her father carefully rolled the man over. She noted his greatcoat laying on top of him as though someone had placed it there on purpose and she shuddered. Someone had attacked this man on this quiet road. She looked back and forth, wondering which way they might have gone. Were they in danger? She hadn’t heard of highway robbers in these parts, but the threat had spread from the larger towns where such activity was more prevalent. However, she pushed that worry aside, for right now only one thing mattered, and that was the person before them. She was terrified they had come across a corpse, and the thought made her stomach churn.

“Papa, is he alive?” she asked.

Mr Bennet bent down and checked for a pulse, his face tense with concentration. After a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, he looked up and nodded. “Yes, he’s alive.”

Elizabeth let out a shaky breath and stepped closer, her curiosity and concern overcoming her fear. She examined the man’s face. He had fine, handsome features, with a broad forehead, a proud nose, and a well-formed mouth. His hair, dark and slightly dishevelled, clung to his skin, held there by what looked like dried blood. She glanced at the road and sucked in a lungful of air. The ground was stained red where his head had rested.

“He’s injured,” she whispered.

Her father’s brow furrowed in concern as he took in the sight of the man. “What on earth is he doing here in the middle of the road all alone? Meryton is ten minutes away by carriage at least.”

Elizabeth looked around when a thought came to her. “Netherfield is just five minutes away on foot. Perhaps he was looking to be let it? Would Mr Morris know?”

“Perhaps, but he could also have been travelling on the Royal Mail carriage. They come through here and sometimes let people off if they’re heading to Greaton.” He gestured in the direction of Greaton Village, located to the east of Netherfield.

“But, Papa, the man has no luggage with him. Surely, if he’d arrived by coach then he’d have a travelling bag of some sort?” Elizabeth said, as she once more looked around nervously.

A grunt came from the man on the ground then, and his eyelids fluttered open, revealing deep, dark eyes that looked around in confusion.

“Sir?” her father said, but the man closed his eyes again and appeared to drift away.

“He had a blow to the head,” her father said. “We must get him back to Longbourn and call for the surgeon.”

“We can send Kitty into town to get Mr Wexler and if he is not available, perhaps the physician, Mr Barnes?” Elizabeth never felt comfortable with Mr Wexler, the town surgeon, as she felt he lacked skill, but her mother hardly ever conceded to calling Mr Barnes, the physician who had treated Jane at Netherfield when she caught cold, due to his higher fee.

“We will send her directly. Now, come. Let’s get him into the cart.”

Together, they carefully lifted the man and carried him to the cart, laying him gently across the seat. Elizabeth’s mind raced with questions as they made their way back to Longbourn. Who was this man? How had he come to be injured?

She realised they would have to alert the constable as well just as soon as he awoke so they might learn what had brought him to their road in such a state. The journey back to Longbourn felt like an eternity. Elizabeth’s mind was a whirl of worry and confusion, her eyes never leaving the man’s pale, unconscious face. When they finally arrived, the commotion began almost instantly.

“Mrs Bennet!” Elizabeth’s father called for his wife as they turned into the driveway outside the house.

“What is it, Mr Bennet? Must you shout in so undignified a manner?” she replied from the window while Elizabeth rushed to the back of the cart again to ready the man for their egress.

“We have an injured man in the cart,” her father replied as he joined her. “Send Kitty to fetch Mr Wexler.”

She heard her mother gasp, and moments later, the front door flew open. Her mother’s footsteps crunched across the yard until she came to a stop just as they unloaded the man.

“Good heavens! What has happened? Who is this man?”

“We found him like this on the road,” Elizabeth gasped as she strained under the man’s weight.

“Miss, allow me,” John, one of her father’s farmhands, called as he rushed to take her place.

“John, we need to get him inside,” Mr Bennet said firmly. “He’s injured.”

Mrs Bennet gasped, her hands fluttering to her cheeks. “Oh, the poor man! Quickly, bring him in! Take him to Elizabeth’s chamber—it’s the nearest and the most convenient.”

Mr Bennet and John carried the man upstairs while Mrs Bennet instructed Kitty to fetch the town surgeon. Elizabeth followed them upstairs. They laid him gently on the bed, Elizabeth’s heart was pounding as she observed his still, pale form.

“We must summon the surgeon at once,” her father said, turning to one of the servants.

“Mother has done so,” she informed him.

“Kitty is on her way,” Mrs Bennet said then as she entered the room while John left to tend to his duties. “I’ve instructed Hill to bring some hot water and cloths for his wounds.” She looked at the man who lay still on Elizabeth’s bed, wringing her hands and fussing over every detail. “Oh, what a dreadful thing! To find a man in such a state! Who could he be?”

“We’ll have to wait until he wakes to find out, dear,” her father said while Elizabeth took off her jacket and placed it over a chair. She pushed up her sleeves after removing her gloves and stood beside the man. The wound on his head had stopped bleeding, it seemed, but now that she took a closer look, she saw he bore bruises on his right knuckles and his eye was beginning to turn purple.

“I think he was in a fight,” she said, causing her parents to grow quiet and join her side.

“A fight? Oh, Mr Bennet, have you brought a bandit into the home?” her mother said in a high-pitched tone that made her pull her shoulders forward as if to shield against the sound.

“I dare say if he was in a fight, it was with whomever attacked him,” her father reasoned. “See if there is anything in his coat, perhaps there might be an indication of who he is.”

Just then, Hill entered with a porcelain basin and steaming water in a carafe. She stared at the man as she came closer, but swiftly Mr Bennet took the supplies from her and directed her out.

“I know this man’s name!” Mrs Bennet called. “Look here, inside his jacket!”

She held up a dark, finely tailored jacket that had been found near the stranger and pointed to a patch of material inside. On the inside of the jacket was an embroidered label. The jacket was in a bad state with the material ripped and torn in part, but some letters were still readable.

“Propter… eorge Wickham,” Elizabeth read. “Property of George Wickham. I do not know anyone by that name. Do you?”

“No,” her mother said and her father shook his head.

She exchanged a startled look with her father, but then both their attention was diverted, for the man on the bed finally stirred, and all eyes were on him at once. Perhaps he would be able to tell them what had brought him here and how he had come to lay injured in the road all alone.