​Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A t breakfast, Bingley spoke about his enjoyable time at Lucas Lodge.

“It was unexpectedly delightful, truly. Around thirty people — not too crowded. There was good food, a little bit of music so we could dance, pleasant company.”

“The entire Bennet family, I assume.” Miss Bingley rolled her eyes.

“Yes. Even Mr Bennet was there. He enquired about you, Darcy.”

“How kind of him. Was Mr Collins there too?”

“Yes…sadly. He is truly annoying. And, upon my word, I think he is trying to court Miss Elizabeth. I hope I am wrong — for her sake.”

Darcy felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

“Is he?” Mrs Hurst interjected. “Well, a clergyman who will inherit Longbourn sounds like a perfect match for Eliza Bennet. Better than she could have hoped for.”

“I could not agree more,” Miss Bingley added.

“Surely you are joking!” Bingley cried. “I find it absurd. I am sure Miss Elizabeth would not agree to marry such an annoying man.”

“And why not?” Miss Bingley continued. “With no dowry, their estate entailed, and relatives who live near Cheapside, what better can she hope for? Would you not agree, Mr Darcy?”

“I do not know Miss Elizabeth well enough to anticipate her thoughts and actions. I know there are women who would do anything and accept any sort of man for a comfortable marriage. Others would place their self-worth above their comfort.”

His answer was evidently not what the ladies expected, and it silenced them for a while.

“Darcy, what are your plans today?” Bingley enquired later on, when the party was gathered in the drawing room. “I am going to Meryton and then perhaps will call at Longbourn.”

“Call at Longbourn again?” Miss Bingley asked, her expression filled with disapproval.

“Caroline, I am of an age where I can lease an estate. I would surely hope I am allowed to decide who I wish to visit and when.”

“Caroline has a good point, Charles,” Mrs Hurst interjected. “Your actions will certainly arouse some unreasonable expectations.”

“I should feel offended by your assumption that I am unaware of my actions. Regardless, my plans are decided. Whoever wishes to join me is most welcome,” Bingley answered with calm determination.

“I shall go for a ride,” Darcy said. “I have a slight headache, and I believe some exercise would be helpful.”

“I am sorry you feel unwell, Darcy. May I help in any way?”

“No, thank you. Please do not alter your plans.”

“If you have a headache, perhaps you should stay at home, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley offered. “A herbal tea and some rest would surely help you more.”

The notion of Miss Bingley bringing him tea caused Darcy a sudden real headache.

“Some exercise and fresh air always helps,” he insisted.

“I am afraid you have contaminated yourself with Eliza Bennet’s bad habits,” Miss Bingley said bitterly.

Darcy’s irritation increased, but he remained silent.

“I was not aware Miss Elizabeth was fond of riding too,” Bingley replied.

“She is not. Quite the opposite,” Darcy said. “Miss Bingley seems to see similarities where they do not exist. Forgive me, I must go and prepare myself,” he concluded.

Half an hour later, Darcy was at the stables, ready for a ride, when a servant boy ran in, breathless.

“Mr Darcy, it’s good I caught you before you left. There’s a note for you, sir. It just arrived. The master said it might be urgent.”

“A note? Do you know who brought it?”

“Tom Green. He works at the inn. He’s waiting for your reply, sir.”

Intrigued, Darcy took the letter. From the opening word he recognised the handwriting, and his first instinct was to throw it away.

We should talk. There are issues of mutual interest we must clarify in order to avoid further unfortunate occurrences.

You were the last man I expected to encounter in Meryton when I joined the regiment. Still, I trust there is enough space here for both of us to mind our own business without bothering each other.

A brief conversation is needed, so I shall wait for you today and tomorrow at three o’clock in the place we saw each other four days ago. That is unless you write back and suggest another location and time to meet.

That was all — no name, no signature. Not that one was needed.

The boy was still waiting, watching him.

“Please pass on the following message. ‘Absolutely not, for as long as I can avoid it.’”

The boy looked stunned and confused.

“That’s all, Mr Darcy?”

“Yes.” The boy hurried away, and Darcy mounted and began his ride at a gentle pace, which increased to a gallop, the cold wind blowing in his face.

The audacity of the scoundrel! He had requested a meeting, but he had also introduced a subtle threat between the lines. He was probably hoping to convince Darcy not to reveal the truth. He must be desperate to keep his character hidden and present an appearance of decency. Wickham might have found out about Darcy’s attempts to warn people about him and was now trying to retaliate. Such actions revealed that the reprobate’s character had not improved in the slightest; nor did he appear to have any remorse.

The horse continued steadily, with Darcy too distracted by his own thoughts to notice where he was. Eventually, he realised he had taken the path towards Meryton and Longbourn. He knew he had to distance himself from Elizabeth, and yet, whatever he did, it always brought him closer to her. Not even the risk of seeing Wickham made him stay away. He needed to leave Hertfordshire soon — it was surely not good for his sanity.

Time passed, and Darcy lost track of it until he noticed it was getting darker. His pocket watch showed it was only two o’clock, but heavy clouds were covering the sky, obscuring the daylight. He made the quick decision to ride to Meryton, hoping he might see Bingley and they could return to Netherfield together.

When he entered the town, he noticed a group of officers, and, without stopping to see who they were, he turned back. He wondered whether Wickham had received his message of rejection or whether he was expecting him. Either way, he had no desire to see the miscreant.

He rode towards Longbourn but did not go so close as to be observed from the house. Could Bingley be there? He pondered that perhaps he should go and enquire, but he quickly dismissed such an idea.

He resumed his ride, increasing the horse’s speed to a gallop, then stopped for a moment believing he had heard another horse’s steps. The wind prevented him from hearing anything further, so he continued on. It was cold, and very likely the rain would begin soon, so he hastened towards Netherfield, until his plans were forcibly altered.

Lost in his confusing and distressing thoughts, with the wind blowing in his face, Darcy was unprepared for the horse’s abrupt halt, the loud neigh that followed, and its sudden, frantic rearing onto its hind legs.

He dropped the reins and tried to grab the horse’s mane as the stallion reared again, but a sharp blow struck his head. The last thing he remembered was falling, then a pain in his foot, cold, then dark and silence, broken by the sound of a voice asking something. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were too heavy, and his hand would not move to his face, as if it was imprisoned. Some time passed, and the voice returned, and this time he thought he recognised it and even heard some words.

Moments later, the voice faded, the silence turned into noise, other voices called to him, and he felt himself lifted up, then falling again, until finally he felt the ground under his body — and he felt very cold.

∞∞∞

“Mama, I am so tired of walking! It is cold and muddy and will rain soon. We are the only ones who do not have a carriage,” Lydia moaned as they walked from Meryton back to Longbourn facing the icy wind. Elizabeth and Kitty also accompanied their youngest sister and mother. They were returning home after a short visit to the Phillipses’ and were all tired and cold.

“We do have a carriage, Lydia, but Papa needs it. It is not a toy that you may use whenever you want.”

“That is not fair! We should buy another carriage just for us.”

“Another carriage?” Mrs Bennet rolled her eyes. “We can barely keep two servants to help your father with his duties. How could we afford another vehicle?”

“Mama, this is so upsetting! If only we were not so very poor and could afford another carriage — even a small one!”

“We are not very poor, child, but we are not rich either,” Mrs Bennet replied. “Your father’s income is small, and we have five daughters and no son. You must try hard to marry well, or else we might be homeless once your father dies and Mr Collins inherits Longbourn. You should pray Mr Collins will offer to marry one of you!” she concluded with a meaningful glare at Elizabeth.

“I hate Mr Collins. He is so irritating that I cannot stand him! I would never marry him,” Lydia continued. “I am so glad he decided to have dinner with Sir William. At least we shall not be forced to listen to him while we eat tonight.”

“Well, he certainly does not want to marry you either, Lydia. You are too young and too silly to understand how hard life is. Hopefully, Lizzy is older and wiser.”

Elizabeth chose not to answer and pretended not to understand her mother’s meaning.

“If only Jane would marry Mr Bingley sooner. I could not wish for anything more! I would not even care about Mr Collins inheriting Longbourn. Jane’s marriage would place you girls in the path of other rich men, and I am sure you would find good husbands in no time.”

“That plan is not sensible, Mama,” Elizabeth said. “I only hope Jane will find happiness in a marriage of affection. If Mr Bingley is the one she finds it with, even better.”

“I am worried that she did not come with us. She said she had a headache. I hope she will not catch a cold before the ball!”

Elizabeth knew there was no such danger. Jane was just tired after an eventful evening and needed to rest. She had even whispered to Elizabeth that Mr Bingley had mentioned he might call — a good enough reason for the honest, sweet Jane to use an excuse and remain at home.

Unlike her sisters, Elizabeth was in no particular disposition for entertainment —and had not been since Mr Darcy had called on her father. The reasons for the gentleman’s involvement, his assertions about Mr Wickham, her own response to both men, and her father’s harsh scrutiny were all strong inducements for a thorough examination of her actions and feelings.

She had trusted Mr Wickham’s story the moment she had heard it, just as she had doubted Mr Darcy’s accusations against the officer. However, she had to admit that her judgment had been based on nothing more substantial than her resentment of Mr Darcy’s pride and arrogance and her instant preference for Mr Wickham’s amiable manners.

Just like her father, she wondered why Mr Darcy had gone to the trouble of warning them if there was no danger. It was an embarrassing situation, to which she was certain he would not have exposed himself if he had not deemed it absolutely necessary.

The notion Mr Darcy could be right was disturbing; therefore, Elizabeth had taken the opportunity provided by the Lucases’ party the previous evening for keen observation and a careful search for any evidence to prove either side.

Mr Wickham had been there, together with his fellow officers as well as Colonel Forster and his wife; Mr Darcy — as expected — had been missing. Mr Bingley had attended by himself, which had allowed him the liberty to spend most of the evening with Jane and even to dance with her. It had been the best part of the party, Elizabeth reflected.

As for her, Mr Collins’s attention had been horribly annoying, and watching Mr Wickham had not been as rewarding as she had hoped.

The officer had been nothing but amiable towards everyone. He had been introduced to Mr and Mrs Bennet — who had liked him instantly, as her mother had loudly declared. While Mr Bennet had exchanged a few words with the officer, Mrs Bennet and her youngest daughter had spent quite some time talking to him.

Mr Wickham had also sought out Elizabeth’s company, engaged her in conversation, and asked her to dance. In short, the officer had been the heart of the party, his behaviour beyond reproach. Still, the more she had observed him talking to the men and then the women — from Lydia and Kitty to Maria Lucas, Mary King, Mrs Forster, Charlotte Lucas, and even the elderly ladies — the more troubled she had become by something she could not define. It was a feeling so strong that it threatened to overcome her objective observations. She had tried but failed to dismiss it and was not even certain whether it was real or induced by Mr Darcy’s allegations. Everything around her seemed to be related to Mr Darcy.

“It is raining!” Lydia cried. “I am cold and hungry, and now I shall be wet and maybe catch a cold before the ball. I shall never go to Meryton without the carriage again!”

“Then I assume you will not go often,” Elizabeth answered calmly. “It is only a few drops of rain,” she added. “Do not worry. We shall take the shorter path and be home in a few minutes.”

They continued to walk, taking careful steps, until they noticed the silhouette of a man standing some distance away.

“Look, it is Mr Wickham!” Kitty exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down,” Elizabeth said, screwing up her eyes for a better view. “I cannot see him clearly.”

“It is definitely Mr Wickham. I would recognise him anywhere,” Lydia confirmed. “Mr Wickham! Mr Wickham!” she shouted.

After a few more steps, Elizabeth recognised the man too, though she did not see his face directly. They were all walking towards him, Lydia still calling out.

The man seemed to hear them; he turned his head, mounted in a hurry, and rode away.

“What was that?” Lydia asked. “Why did he leave? Did he not hear us?”

“That was very strange,” Mrs Bennet admitted. “Last night he was so friendly, and now he has run away. Men are peculiar indeed.”

“I wonder what he was doing there,” Lydia continued with obvious disappointment.

Elizabeth was curious too, intrigued by the man’s actions. She walked towards the spot where he had stood, Lydia and Kitty following her. Moments later, all three let out a cry of horror. There was Mr Darcy, hanging from his horse with one foot caught in the stirrup. The horse neighed and moved restlessly, and Elizabeth frowned momentarily, then hesitantly stretched out her hand to free his imprisoned appendage.

“Mr Darcy,” she called a few times, but she received no answer.

Mrs Bennet approached too and cried, “Oh, dear Lord!”

Then, to Elizabeth’s disbelief, her mother stepped in front of the horse, took hold of his bridle, and patted his neck, attempting to calm him down.

“Release his foot, Lizzy! Quickly!”

Elizabeth hurried to obey her mother, and her sisters tried to help — as clumsy as they were. Finally, the man was freed and laid on the ground. He was still unconscious, and Elizabeth crouched next to him, holding his head. As soon as Mrs Bennet released her hold on the horse, it shook its head and bolted.

“Dear Lord! What on earth has happened to Mr Darcy? Is he dead?”

“No, Mama. He is breathing but unconscious. I see a wound on his temple — there is a little blood.”

Mrs Bennet bent down and touched his face and head.

“It is just a scratch. It does not look serious. But he is freezing. We must get help.”

“I shall go, Mama,” Elizabeth offered. “Can you stay here with him? We cannot leave him all alone.”

She had disliked the man from the day they met, but seeing him lying there, at the edge between life and death, was heart-wrenching.

“I cannot wait! I want to go home! I am so cold, and look — it really is raining now!” Lydia whined.

“Me too!” Kitty repeated.

“Lizzy, hurry to Longbourn and fetch help,” Mrs Bennet requested. “Take your sisters with you. I shall wait here with Mr Darcy. Bring John with the carriage.”

“Yes, Mama. And I shall send for Mr Jones too.”

“Go now!”

With her last glance, Elizabeth saw her mother seat herself on the cold, wet ground, holding Mr Darcy’s head in her lap. The image was immensely distressing considering Mr Darcy had always treated Mrs Bennet with superior disdain, and she had always resented him in return.