Chapter 7

D arcy tried to open his eyes, but his head hurt as if it was being squeezed in an iron trap. He raised his hand to it and gasped; there must have been an impact. His right temple hurt too — almost like a small and painful burn. Strangely, the pain had increased overnight instead of diminishing, and the suffocating warmth could only mean he had a fever. So he had likely caught a cold too.

Or perhaps, he mused with his eyes still closed, the fever was from the image of Elizabeth standing beside his bed, dressed only in a night gown and robe, which had fallen freely around her alluring figure, her long hair loose over her shoulders, her worried countenance, her sweet teasing and enchanting smile. She had come to bring him soup and medicine. He had eaten it all — for her. She had seemed concerned for him. She had seemed to actually care.

Since he had no intention of pursuing a relationship with Elizabeth, he had never pondered thoroughly what her feelings for him were. She must have been upset by his offensive remark at the assembly. Since then, he had been in her company often enough to be completely enchanted by her but insufficiently enough to know her feelings. Her manners were natural and charming, her wit sparkled as much as her pretty eyes, and she enjoyed teasing — probably another trait inherited from her father.

When he had spoken to Mr Bennet, the man had assumed Darcy disliked Elizabeth as much as she disliked him. Till that moment, Darcy had never considered Elizabeth’s opinion of him might be unfavourable. Her dislike made him feel uncomfortable, but in the end, it served his purpose; he did not want to leave her behind feeling hurt and disappointed.

Since she had left Netherfield after staying a few days, they had not spoken again except for polite greetings. He had purposely avoided her because he was frightened by the attraction that made him lose control. He wished for her more than he had ever wished for anything, yet he had denied himself the chance to even consider another outcome but separation from her. And now he was bound to her by gratitude. He refused to consider living his life with her — as wonderful as such a dream might sound — but he would have not lived at all if she had not happened upon him.

He had also blamed Elizabeth for her family, including for her mother’s situation in life and her outrageous manners. As if in revenge for his vanity, fate had given Mrs Bennet a critical part in his rescue. He had not been fully conscious, but he had recognised that the matron had sat with him, on the cold ground, in the rain, and held his head in her lap until help arrived. She had probably done it because he was a friend of Bingley’s — whom she hoped to entrap as her son-in-law. But regardless, he owed her his gratitude.

What perturbed him the most was Wickham’s presence after the accident. Darcy was unaware how long after his fall Wickham had appeared, but he remembered his words.

“So, you are here, after all, Darcy. You refused to talk to me, and yet you can do nothing to avoid me. There is no greater pleasure than seeing you lying at my feet.”

Those words, that laugh, were enough proof for Darcy to assume the worst. How Wickham had come to be there was a mystery, but undoubtedly the scoundrel had no intention of helping him. In truth, Darcy’s death would be the perfect revenge for Wickham, and a fatal accident was probably what the man prayed for.

Darcy’s presence had become a threat to Wickham’s latest schemes within the regiment, and the exposure of his true character would have ended his new career before it had begun. Obviously, the scoundrel had no intention of changing his behaviour and making amends for his past errors; he only wished to conceal the past so he could continue his dishonourable conduct in the present and future.

Darcy shivered, imagining that Wickham could have actually done something to push him towards such an ending.

Fortunately, Darcy had been blessed by the appearance of the Bennet ladies. Pure luck, a twist of fate, or whatever it was, had saved his life. And apparently, from what she had implied the previous night, Elizabeth and her mother and sisters — who were all on friendly terms with Wickham — had seen the officer. Had they spoken to him? Had he said anything? Had he just walked away? But how would he justify such actions? The situation was disturbingly complicated, and there were many elements missing for a thorough understanding. And the terrible headache was certainly not helpful.

“Mr Darcy?”

He finally opened his eyes to see the apothecary leaning over him.

“Are you in pain, sir? May I examine you? You certainly have a fever. I have asked for some tea and more medicine.”

“My head hurts a little, but it is nothing to worry about. As for the fever, I am sure it is nothing but a trifling cold.”

“I would suggest more prudence, Mr Darcy, as it is a serious matter. As I feared, many bruises have appeared on your chest and on your right leg, which might indicate deeper injuries. And the fever might increase and affect your lungs. What worries me the most is the swelling on the top of your head. Most likely you hit a branch.”

“If you intended to frighten me, Mr Jones, you have surely succeeded,” Darcy replied. “I promise to follow your advice. I do not wish to worsen my condition with disobedience.”

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Bingley entered. Behind him, Darcy was surprised and thrilled to see Elizabeth with another tray.

“Good morning, Darcy! You look better than I expected. How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I was thrown from my horse,” he replied, and Bingley laughed. “Good morning, Miss Bennet,” he added.

“Good morning, sir. I only came to bring your medicine and tea, as Hill is a little busy this morning.”

“Thank you. That is very kind of you. But you should not have inconvenienced yourself — Stevens could have fetched it.” He paused as he noticed a trace of discomfort on her face. Could she have taken his words as disapproval of her actions?

“Please know that I am grateful for your care and your presence, Miss Elizabeth. I just do not wish to burden you even more.”

“I am glad to help, sir,” Elizabeth replied while Stevens took the tray from her.

“You should know that I took all the medicine you brought last night — as promised,” Darcy continued, and the smile returned to Elizabeth’s eyes.

“There is nothing more pleasant than a gentleman keeping his promises,” she said in a teasing tone.

“So, Mr Jones, can we move Darcy to Netherfield today?” Bingley enquired. “The house is much larger, the servants more numerous, and it would be more comfortable for everyone.”

“I cannot approve such a movement, Mr Bingley. I would recommend waiting for Mr Darcy’s doctor to make any further decisions in regard to his health.”

“My doctor?” Darcy asked, dumbfounded. “Whom do you mean?”

“I asked for your doctor to come, Darcy,” Bingley explained. “Your injuries seemed severe yesterday, and we feared for your life. Mr Jones suggested that his own knowledge was limited and that you needed someone with more experience. Did I not mention it last night? I thought I did.”

“You did not mention it, Bingley. Nobody did. You wrote to Dr Bates?”

“No…I did not know his address, so I wrote to Miss Darcy that you had suffered an accident and required your physician.”

A sharp claw gripped Darcy’s head and chest, and he struggled to breathe.

“You wrote to Georgiana? Have you lost your mind? How dare you?” The sudden movement of his body as he tried to sit up increased the pain so much that he moaned, and rage rushed through him.

“Yes…of course…I do not understand… What else could I have done?”

Bingley’s stupefied expression and the apothecary’s stunned countenance were not enough for him to control his outburst, but Elizabeth’s eyes, widened in disbelief, her frown of amazement, and her suddenly pale cheeks were. He took a deep breath, while Bingley seemed unable to find his words.

“Mr Darcy, if our decision was incorrect, I take full responsibility,” Mr Jones interjected. “I insisted the doctor be called. Your health was in danger, and I truly believe it still is, despite your being awake and alert. A wound to the head or the ribs can always be life-threatening. I am a simple country apothecary with limited knowledge and a few medicines.”

“All of us who feared for your life agreed with the decision, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth interjected, her voice trembling slightly.

“I am very sorry…truly sorry…” he said, addressing Bingley and Mr Jones, then locking his gaze with Elizabeth’s for a moment. “Your concern is greatly appreciated, and I know your actions were for my benefit. It is just that…my sister has not been well this summer. Her state is delicate, and she is still rather weak. She has a kind, sensitive heart, and the news of my accident would surely have been distressing for her. She is alone with her companion. I can only imagine her shock, her sorrow, her fear… Bingley, please bring me a piece of paper. I must write to her this instant. Stevens — you will take the letter and deliver it yourself. Please assure her that I am well and shall return to London soon.”

“I shall fetch you some paper, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth replied and left in a hurry. Darcy had to face the stunned and confused gazes of his friend and the apothecary, while he still could not settle his heart.

Poor Georgiana. Who knew what words Bingley had used and how much panic and fright it had caused her. She had surely sent Dr Bates immediately, but her suffering while waiting for news must be torture.

Moments later, Elizabeth returned with a small tray with paper, pen, and ink. He tried to raise himself up against the pillows, but the pain was sharp, and he could not conceal another groan.

“Mr Darcy, you should not move!” Mr Jones interjected, hurrying to him to adjust his position.

“Mr Darcy, would you mind if I wrote the letter to Miss Darcy? You may dictate it, and I shall write it down, so we can send it immediately.”

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. That would be perfect. Please forgive my response. My brain must be addled by the accident.”

“Do not apologise, sir. I understand your concern for your sister. Please tell me what you want to write,” Elizabeth said. Then she sat on a chair at the small table close to the bed and waited. He struggled to gather his thoughts, while her closeness made him even dizzier.

Dearest Georgiana,

I am not writing this letter myself; the handwriting belongs to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who kindly offered to assist me. Please know I am well, and you have no reason to worry.

I am sorry you received such disturbing news, which I am sure hurt you more than it should. I did suffer an accident due to my lack of attention, and I have a few injuries that I am sure will heal soon.

Bingley asked for Dr Bates because he was worried for my wellbeing, which is much appreciated. If Dr Bates arrives, he might be helpful, but today I feel better already.

I shall write to you again in a few days, either myself or with help, with more news, which you must expect to be all good.

Hopefully, we shall see each other before long, as I plan to return to London as soon as possible.

Your beloved brother.

He dictated, Elizabeth wrote and sealed it, and a few minutes later, Stevens was prepared for the trip to London.

Elizabeth excused herself and left, but Bingley and Mr Jones remained, both obviously affected by his response to their actions. He tried to apologise to them, and then, after Bingley left too, Darcy felt suddenly sleepy. He tried to rest when a sudden realisation struck him harder and more painfully than his other wounds.

Georgiana would surely not stay at home and wait for news, knowing he was hurt. She was very likely on her way to Hertfordshire already, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Furthermore, he would not be able to protect her from Wickham if she happened to meet that scoundrel.

Georgiana did not even know Wickham was in the area, so meeting him would cause her another shock. He would have to ask Bingley to protect his sister, but such a request would cause more questions to arise than Darcy could answer. Not to mention that Bingley’s sisters were another reason for distress for Georgiana.

Mr Jones poured him another cup of medicine, and he was about to refuse when he remembered Elizabeth’s bright little smile when she had made him promise to obey the doctor. He took a few sips of the bitter beverage, hoping it would help him to heal soon.

Of course, healing would mean he could return to Netherfield and then London, leaving Elizabeth behind, which increased his pain even more.

∞∞∞

The night of the accident, Elizabeth had slept little and agitatedly, and when she finally arose in the morning, she was still disquieted by her bold intrusion upon Mr Darcy.

She recollected the details of their previous conversations, from the first evening at the assembly to the previous night, when he had smiled and teased her, despite his pain. She remembered small details like the locks of hair on his forehead, his neck revealed by the open shirt, the form of his jaw, and the particular expression in his eyes. In the relative darkness of the room, lit only by a few candles and the fire, Elizabeth had seen Mr Darcy in a new light.

In the morning, Hill was busy making arrangements for breakfast for so many people. Therefore, when the medicine for Mr Darcy was mentioned, Elizabeth offered to take it; and Mr Bingley’s sudden appearance at that early hour offered her a companion to enter Mr Darcy’s chamber with.

She had hoped to find the gentleman awake and alert and to hear a favourable report from Mr Jones. Her expectations were partially met as he received them in good spirits and even jested about keeping his promise to her. She teased him back — perhaps a little too boldly, considering the state of his health.

What she did not expect was his strong — almost wild — response to the news that Mr Bingley had called for his doctor. It was a natural and logical action, meant to protect him, which even Mr Darcy admitted eventually once he managed to control his anger. Mr Darcy offered an explanation about his sister’s distress, which could be a real concern. However, Mr Bingley was not to be blamed; he had done what anyone would do for a friend in a dire situation.

Mr Darcy did seem to be an affectionate and protective brother, though. Since their parents had died when Miss Darcy must have been very young, he had probably been both a brother and a father to her. It was no wonder brother and sister cared about each other so deeply. All in all, Mr Darcy was, without doubt, a man difficult to understand and to truly know for anyone outside his close circle of family and friends.

At breakfast, with Mr Bingley, Mr Jones, and Mr Collins in attendance, they spoke of little else but Mr Darcy’s accident.

“Darcy’s horse arrived back at Netherfield’s stables,” Mr Bingley said. “The stallion is injured too — he has a strange wound on his back right leg, which is probably what scared him and caused him to throw Darcy.”

“Mr Darcy has a peculiar scratch too,” Mr Jones interjected. “As though something sharp hit his right temple. It is not deep, nor does it look dangerous, and it is unlikely to be the reason for his fall. Still, it is intriguing.”

“Perhaps we could take a look at the specific spot where you found Darcy,” Mr Bingley suggested. “We might find some clues about how the accident occurred.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Elizabeth admitted. “I shall gladly join you, sir. And I am sure Jane will come too.”

“Yes, yes, it is a good idea for Jane to go with you,” Mrs Bennet uttered. “But I hope you will wait till the rain stops.”

“Of course, madam,” Mr Bingley answered. “I would not want to put Miss Bennet or Miss Elizabeth in any danger. Until then, I shall wait here with you, if you do not mind.”

“Nothing would give us more pleasure, Mr Bingley,” Mrs Bennet said with much enthusiasm, while Jane only smiled and blushed.

“I shall ask Mr Darcy whether he approves of me writing to Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Mr Collins said.

“You may ask, but I strongly suggest you not write a word until he agrees,” Mr Bingley said. “He was quite upset that I wrote to his doctor without asking permission.”

Mr Collins appeared disappointed but did not reply.

“So…is Mr Darcy any better?” Mrs Bennet enquired.

“He is not as bad as I feared,” Mr Jones answered. “I expect his doctor to arrive with medicine that will be more effective than mine.”

“So, Mr Bingley, I hope you will still host the ball,” Lydia said.

“We shall know for sure later today after Darcy’s physician examines him.”

“Papa, may we go to Meryton? I wish to visit Maria Lucas.”

“You may not. You only went to Meryton yesterday. You should try to stay at home and spend at least half an hour doing something to improve your mind,” her father responded.

Lydia tried to protest, but with strangers at the table and Mr Bennet’s severe countenance, she abandoned the attempt.

“Sir William invited me to Lucas Lodge to continue a discussion we began last night but was interrupted by the news of Mr Darcy’s accident,” Mr Collins said. “I am tempted to go but feel I should stay here and wait for news about Mr Darcy. I cannot enjoy myself when I know he is fighting for his life.”

“Mr Collins, I advise you to go to Lucas Lodge and continue your conversation,” Mr Bennet said. “None of us can be of any use to Mr Darcy at present. If there is significant news, I promise to inform you immediately.”

“Thank you, Mr Bennet. You are exceedingly kind and considerate.”

“Mr Collins, you have spent quite a lot of time at Lucas Lodge lately,” Mrs Bennet interjected.

“Indeed,” Mr Collins replied. “I very much enjoy Sir William’s company, and I always feel welcome and well attended to at Lucas Lodge.”

At that, Mrs Bennet threw a glare at Elizabeth, who chose to disregard it. She could easily believe that Mr Collins and Sir William were well suited, and she pitied her friend Charlotte for being forced to bear their dull conversation.

As for herself, she could not be happier about Mr Collins’s absence.