Darcy's Adventures

by Zoë Burton

  Darcy nodded. To him, it did not look like she would be well at all. He was seized with fear that she would die. He had heard of people dying from hitting their heads.

  “You can trust my wife, Darcy,” Lord Winthrop advised. “She nursed our sons through many injuries; she knows what she is about.”

  “Yes, sir.” Darcy remained at Elizabeth’s side, holding her hand, until the physician arrived. While he waited, he found himself wondering at his feelings. He had only met his betrothed days ago, yet his alarm at her injury was intense. Was his fear based in the thought that he might have to go through the marriage mart again, should she die, or was it more? As he chafed her hand, he imagined a world without Elizabeth in it. The stark loneliness that filled his heart grieved him. It is more, he thought. Is it possible that I have fallen in love with her? The more he thought on it, the more certain he was that, at least, he was falling in love. Perhaps it will take more time and a deeper acquaintance for it to happen, but I am surely halfway there. He lifted her hand to bestow a tender kiss, silently urging her to awaken fully and be well.

  With the arrival of the physician, there was a flurry of additional activity, and Darcy was forced to give up his position to the doctor, a man called Mr. Smith. After a preliminary examination and a brief questioning of Lady Winthrop and Darcy concerning the circumstances of Elizabeth’s injuries, Mr. Smith asked the gentlemen to leave the room, saying that he did not want the patient moved but that she needed to be undressed so he could examine her arm. A brief discussion ensued about the appropriateness of the location, but given that there was a high-backed settee between the room’s windows and the chaise where the patient lay, the fact that it was full daylight and no one from without could see in unless they purposely walked up to the window to do so, and Mr. Smith’s insistence that Elizabeth’s injuries might be made worse with more jostling, his desires took precedence, and she remained. Lady Winthrop called for Elizabeth’s maid, and the two stayed with her while her godfather and betrothed exited into the hall, where they paced for the entirety of the examination.

  After what seemed to Darcy like an interminable wait, Lady Winthrop and the physician stepped out of the room.

  “She is awake, but will likely have a headache for several days.” Mr. Smith addressed the group. “There are no broken bones, but she has a deep bruise on her upper arm. I have advised that she move it as little as possible. I demonstrated for the maid how to fashion a sling to keep the arm immobile but still allow Miss Bennet to dress and move about the house.”

  “And her head injury? We can expect nothing more than a headache to result?” Lord Winthrop needed details so he could relate them to Bennet when he next wrote.

  “Hm, yes, for the most part. These things are tricky, you know. No two are alike. It is possible for some memory loss to occur, either temporary or permanent, though I do not think that likely. The wound there bled profusely, but those generally do. She did not lose so much that she is in danger from it. Of course, fever is always a danger with any open wound. Should one occur, you may feel free to call me back. Otherwise, I will return in two days to check on her.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Lord Winthrop gestured to the butler, who was quietly hovering in the background. “Lowe will see you out.”

  Once the physician had been escorted to the door, Lady Winthrop spoke. “We will need a footman to carry Elizabeth to her rooms. She is, as the doctor indicated, awake, but she is disoriented and in pain. I do not wish to cause her further harm by forcing her to walk.” She held up her hand as Darcy began to speak. “I know that you are willing to carry her, but it would not be proper for you to do so. I am sorry,” she finished gently, recognizing his disappointment.

  “I understand,” he replied resignedly. “May I see her before she goes up?”

  “You may. I think she would like that.”

  Darcy smiled his thanks and followed his hostess into the drawing room.

  Chapter 9

  Elizabeth spent the next several days in her chambers. Her head ached constantly, the room spun every time she tried to rise from her bed, and for the first day or two following her injury, she occasionally felt the need to expel the contents of her stomach. She slept much of the time, largely as a result of the laudanum she was given for her bad head. She received reports, though, from Lady Winthrop about Darcy’s visits, and they warmed her heart.

  After the first few days, she began to feel a bit better and while she still could not read or embroider, she could think without too much pain, and think she did. Most of her thoughts were of her betrothed and her feelings for him.

  While Elizabeth’s memory of the events leading up to the strike to her arm doled out by Lady Catherine was crystal clear, what happened afterwards was unclear to her. She had wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness for a long time, but the one thing she could recall was Darcy’s defense of her. She remembered hearing his angry voice speaking harsh words to his aunt, and seeing him snatch her walking stick out of her hands. She was amazed at his actions. She thought of her father and tried to imagine his reaction in the same situation. Would he have gotten angry, as Mr. Darcy had? No, she could not picture that. What she saw in her mind was her father laughing at the situation. He would have found it amusing, at least until Lady Catherine struck her. Still, she could not imagine her father being as forceful as her betrothed in any case.

  As she considered the situation, she found that the knowledge she now had that her future husband was willing and able to defend her in such a manner warmed her heart, leaving her with a feeling of safety and comfort. She was exceedingly happy that Mr. Darcy was so willing to come to her defense, and to take the matter seriously rather than treat it like a joke.

  She next began to consider the things she had always professed to want in a husband: respect, sense and intelligence, good humor, and a deep and abiding love. She had, upon first meeting her betrothed, determined that he was possessed of good sense and intelligence. In the days of their courtship so far, he had proven to be of good humor, though he was a very serious sort of gentleman in general. Did he respect her? Well, he did defend her admirably, and to her mind, that showed respect. If he did not do so, he would not have bothered to try to protect her from his aunt; instead, he would have stepped back and let the woman continue. All that remained of her list was love. Did he love her? She had no way of knowing. Did she love him?

  She turned her mind to how she felt when she saw Mr. Darcy walk into a room. She recalled being surprised at the pleasant feeling that rose up in her and grew stronger every time he visited. Examining that feeling, Elizabeth came to realize that it was something akin to joy. She looked forward to his conversation, and had frequently seen something and tucked it away in her mind to discuss with him. She was pleased when she could make him smile, and happy when he laughed.

  Certainly, she had strong physical reactions to him, as well. Her heart raced at the slightest touch of his hand. She often found herself yearning for another of his kisses.

  If I am not in love with him, I am in a fair way to being so, she thought. She determined to pay close attention to her emotions when she saw him again.

  She found her opportunity the very next day. Mr. Smith had been to see her and declared her well enough to descend the stairs and eat in the dining room, though she was still under some restriction. She had known from Lady Winthrop that Mr. Darcy had visited every day, hoping to see her, and that he had left disappointed that he could not. He had sent her gifts: chocolate one day, a bouquet of flowers another day, a book of sonnets the next, all with the message that he missed her and hoped she was well. She was delighted with both his gifts and his words, and looked forward to seeing him again.

  She descended the stairs at the appointed hour, escorted by her godfather. She was surprised at how nervous she felt, but as always, her courage rose and carried her through. She had kept her eyes on her feet for most of the way down, fearing she would become dizzy and fa
ll, but as she neared the bottom, she allowed her herself to look up. The first thing she saw was her betrothed, smiling at her. Her heart stopped for a moment before beating hard once again. That feeling of joy she had observed before filled her, and as she grasped his extended hand with hers and felt the jolt that always accompanied his touch, she realized something startling, though not new, for she had realized something of it before. She felt safe with him, as though nothing bad could touch her when he was near. Her eyes were opened to the fact that yes, she was in love with him. She gave him a brilliant smile in return.

  Darcy was never so glad to see someone in all his life. For days he had worried, and did all he could, in his limited capacity, to ease her recovery. When Winthrop sent a note around earlier in the day to inform him of Elizabeth’s release from her chambers and inviting him to join them for dinner, he was overjoyed. And now, here she was, her hand in his, a warm and welcoming smile on her oh-so-kissable lips. He bowed, bestowing a lingering kiss on her fingers. He smiled tenderly at her as he rose.

  “You look very well, Miss Bennet. I am happy to see you.”

  “And I, you. Thank you for the gifts. They made my recovery easier.”

  “I am glad you liked them. If there is anything at all I can get you, all you need do is ask.” I would do anything for you.

  She smiled at him again, wishing she could run her fingers down his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Lord Winthrop cleared his throat, chuckling to himself when the couple jumped apart. “Shall we proceed to the drawing room?”

  “Yes, indeed, we should. Miss Bennet?” Darcy offered his arm for her support and with her godfather on her other side, escorted her down the hall. He settled her in on a settee near Lady Winthrop then sat down beside her, wishing he could hold her hand. Lord Winthrop sat beside his wife and the group conversed for a few minutes, until they were called to supper.

  Once they were settled and the first course was served, Lord Winthrop asked the question he knew was on Elizabeth’s mind. “Darcy, for my goddaughter’s peace of mind, why do you not tell us what happened with your aunt following her unfortunate display last week.”

  Darcy took a deep breath. “After being escorted from your home, she took herself back to Matlock House. My uncle and aunt had gone out right after she left to come here, so the servants opened the rooms she usually occupies when she visits and served her tea while she awaited their return. The butler told my uncle that Lady Catherine was particularly critical, and was very vocal in her displeasure. When she began taking her ire out on the maids and footmen, he relieved them of that duty and served her himself, until Lord Matlock returned.

  “Once she was in my uncle’s study, apparently still incensed, he had to ply her with drink to calm her enough to get the story out. Of course, she twisted the events to suit her needs. She was disappointed in his response, though why she should be is a mystery to us all. He had informed her before she left his house earlier in the day that he would not support her and that he had arranged my match to Miss Bennet. When he found out about her assault on my betrothed, he also became enraged. She has been sent back to Rosings with the warning not to leave anytime soon. My uncle informed her that he would take over the yearly audit of her books and that, should he receive word that she has spoken to me or Miss Bennet or anyone related to us, or that she has attempted to defame any of us, he would leave her to do her own audits and she could suffer the consequences.

  “My aunt does not have a good head for figures, for all that she proclaims herself accomplished in the art of estate management. Left to herself, she would run the place into the ground within a year, and she knows it. My uncle is confident Lady Catherine will obey his edict.”

  “And you, Mr. Darcy? Do you agree with his assessment?” Elizabeth was uncomfortable with a break in the family, and more so that she was the cause.

  “I do. My mother’s sister has always been difficult; I can think of no one who does not share that assessment. It will be a relief to be apart from her for a time.”

  Elizabeth frowned. She felt that she needed to be clear on where he stood. “I am sorry to be the cause of a breach between you and your aunt.”

  Darcy, who sat next to her, reached over to gently grasp her hand. “Miss Bennet…Elizabeth…do not be concerned. It is for the best that my aunt be isolated for a time. I doubt that it will be for an extended period, and it is the only method we have available to us to check her. She has always been spoiled and selfish; such action has been long coming to her. Should she mend her ways and apologize, we will all accept her back into the family fold.”

  Elizabeth gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you for reassuring me. I am relieved to hear that I am not solely to blame.”

  Darcy lifted her hand to his to bestow a tender kiss before reluctantly releasing it. The next course was served, and the conversation drifted to the upcoming wedding.

  Before he left that evening, Darcy requested permission to bring his sister to visit on the morrow. Elizabeth was happy to grant his request, for she was eager to meet Georgiana and make her own assessment of her character.

  The next morning, the Darcys arrived at Winthrop House early, as was Darcy’s habit. Elizabeth was just descending the stairs, alone, and upon seeing her, he abandoned his sister at the bottom and quickly ascended to help his betrothed down the final few steps.

  “You should have asked someone to help you,” he scolded mildly, one arm around her waist as the other held her hand. “It would not do for you to take a tumble and injure yourself again.”

  Giving him a small smile, she conceded his point. “I had thought I was able to do this alone, but I confess I am glad to have your arm to lean on. My head is whirling.”

  “Come then, let us get you seated. We can make introductions later.”

  Georgiana watched all of this in amazement. She had never seen her brother treat anyone, other than herself, with such tenderness. This must be the woman he engaged himself to. I wonder what she has been told about me. She followed the couple into a drawing room and watched as Darcy settled the lady on a settee. When he beckoned her nearer, she approached quietly.

  “Georgiana, allow me to introduce you to my betrothed, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You will forgive her for not rising and curtseying; she has suffered an injury and is not well enough to do so.”

  Georgiana nodded as she rose from her own shallow curtsey.

  “Miss Bennet, this is my sister, Georgiana.”

  Elizabeth could see the curiosity in her new sister’s face. She stretched her hands out to the girl, who automatically took them. “I am so pleased to meet you! Come, sit with me; I am eager to know you.”

  While she was a little surprised, Georgiana sat. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, as well.” She knew she had best be polite, or she would hear about it later.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Elizabeth prompted. “What are your pursuits, your talents?”

  “Well,” Georgiana began slowly, “I do play the pianoforte.”

  “I do, as well. Do you play often?”

  “Oh, yes; my brother insists I work with a master and practice almost constantly.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I can see him doing so.” She bestowed on Darcy a tender smile, her eyes twinkling. Turning back to his sister, she asked, “Do you enjoy reading?”

  “I do!”

  “Wonderful! What do you read? I adore histories and poetry. Your brother and I have already had a few stimulating discussions about them.”

  “Oh, I greatly dislike histories. Poetry is not so bad, but what I really love to read is novels.” Her hands came up to clasp at her chest as she sighed. “Some of them are so romantic!”

  Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Indeed they are.” She paused for a moment, debating what to say next. “I think, though, that one must not depend entirely on novels for entertainment. One must add a suitable amount of poetry and history to one’s daily study, do you not think?”

  Inside, Geor
giana rolled her eyes. Adults. “I suppose it would not hurt to do so, but to be truthful, I find them boring and they do not hold my attention for long.”

  Nodding, Elizabeth changed the topic. “And, what other diversions do you enjoy, other than novels and playing the pianoforte?”

  “I very much enjoy speaking to officers. They are always entertaining.” Seeing that Elizabeth did not bat an eyelash at the comment, she continued. “And they seem to enjoy my company very much, as well.”

  Elizabeth sensed more than saw Darcy’s sudden tension. She reached her hand across the space that separated them and laid it on his arm. He immediately grasped her hand with his own, holding tightly as he listened to his sister go on.

  “Do you see many of them? Your cousin is an officer, I believe?”

  “He is,” she confirmed. “I see him regularly, but he is not as interesting as some others I have met.”

  “And these others? How many were there?”

  “Oh, for or five, at least. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no particular reason. I was just curious, is all.” She paused, wondering if and how she should ask what she wanted to know next. “I know that your family was not pleased when they discovered your activities. How did you feel about it when they removed you from school? Did they give you a reason for it?”

  Georgiana sniffed as she lifted her nose in the air. Darcy, who was watching her closely, noticed an uncanny resemblance to their Aunt Catherine, and he shuddered.

  “They gave me a host of reasons, none of which made sense. It is simply that they do not want me to have any fun. They think everyone should be the same and do the same boring things.” She looked at Elizabeth, eyes flashing. “But I do not want to be boring and do the same things everyone else does. I want to have fun!”

  “I can see that,” murmured Elizabeth. “Very well, I shall see about that, once I am your sister.” Turning to Darcy, who appeared very worried, she squeezed his hand again and gave him her most reassuring look. “I have asked Lord and Lady Winthrop for permission to invite my sister, Mary, to visit. You have met her, have you not?”