by Lory Lilian
“Miss Bingley, since we first met, you have treated me rudely and disrespectfully beyond the bounds of acceptable manners. For my sister’s sake and the goodness of her heart, I willed myself to overlook that you purposely interfered between Mr. Bingley and Jane and then deceived him about my sister’s presence in town last winter. I also gave no consideration to your disdainful behaviour toward me once you acknowledged my engagement to Mr. Darcy, because I imagined you were merely jealous and resentful. But to offend a woman—a guest in your brother’s home who lies hurt and unconscious with no chance of defending herself—this is too much even for you. Have you no feelings of remorse or compassion?”
Caroline Bingley glared at Elizabeth in utter shock, her face red with rage.
“How dare you, Eliza Bennet?” Miss Bingley found a strident voice and, rising from her seat, stepped closer to Elizabeth. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner? Who do you think you are? You shall leave this house immediately; your presence here is no longer acceptable. Leave now!” she screeched at the exact moment the gentlemen appeared in the doorway.
Jane and Georgiana, livid, lost for words, were unable to react to such a violent confrontation; their eyes remained fixed on the combatants.
Disturbed and attracted by the din, all three gentlemen entered the room. Mr. Bingley was about to inquire into the cause of the quarrel when Elizabeth addressed Caroline again.
“Who am I? I am the soon-to-be sister of the master of this house, and I insist upon being treated properly. If Mr. Bingley wishes me to leave, I will obey without objection, but I will no longer allow any offense against my family, my friends or me. Now if you will excuse me, I must attend to Lady Cassandra; she may need me.”
Mr. Bingley and Jane looked at each other instantly, silently searching each other’s faces. Mr. Bennet tried to hide a small smile behind his glass of brandy; Mr. Hurst emptied his own glass while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Hurst were obviously embarrassed by Caroline’s unseemly behaviour.
“Charles, did you hear that? Did you see the scandalous manner in which Eliza Bennet treated me in my own house?” cried Miss Bingley.
“Caroline, keep your voice down. I really do not have time for your nonsense. I am quite concerned about Lady Cassandra, and I surely do not need more distress.”
“I am not causing any distress. Eliza’s shocking language is the cause of all this. She has been the cause of all my distress these last several days,” she continued, barely able to breathe from agitation.
“Lizzy was only— Jane tried to intervene, but Caroline interrupted her.
“Eliza cannot remain here! There is no room for both of us at Netherfield. If Eliza Bennet is allowed to remain in this house, I shall leave! I cannot endure being under the same roof with her!”
“Caroline, perhaps all these events have been too much for you; you have had to bear so much unexpected news and so many disappointments that perhaps you need some rest and serenity to recover yourself. If you desire to leave, I shall not try to stop you, but neither Miss Elizabeth nor Jane will leave until Lady Cassandra is fully recovered. So you may either stay here with us and soften your manner toward our guests or feel free to prepare your belongings for a journey to wherever you wish to go. Now, please excuse me; I need a generous glass of wine before seeing the doctor.”
***
“My examination is complete, Miss Lizzy; however, I am afraid I have nothing much to tell you—
“Not much, sir? But you surely have something to tell us! How is Cassandra? What should we do to help her? Will she get well? Surely you will prescribe some medicine for her present state!”
“Lady Cassandra’s left ankle was hurt—twisted—when she fell from the horse; perhaps her legs became entangled in the stirrups, but she does not appear to have any broken bones. I cleaned her wounds and bandaged the ankle tightly. She should not move it for at least three weeks. Her left shoulder also seems badly hurt, but I dare say it will heal well in time—
“But that is wonderful news, doctor! Why did you say you had nothing to tell us? You practically told us everything we needed to know—
“Not at all, I am afraid, though I would wish to. My examination, though lengthy, was far from satisfactory, as Lady Cassandra never awoke, moved, or made a sound. We cannot know whether there are other injuries I cannot discover or whether she feels any pain. I discovered a few wounds on her head. Also, she spent so many hours on the ground that she has likely developed a severe chill, and I will certainly prescribe you some medicine; laudanum would help her. Some tea would help, too, but I cannot see how she can drink it. In any case, I would strongly advise you to seek a second opinion regarding her ladyship’s state. I shall confess that—fortunately—in our small town, I am rarely confronted with such a situation. I only remember the old gardener—Johns—being thrown from his horse ten years ago. I do not know if you have any recollection of him.”
Elizabeth shivered and paled. She did indeed recollect old Mr. Johns—a kind, gentle man who had died two weeks after the accident. She tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat.
“Elizabeth, what happened to Mr. Johns?” inquired Georgiana weakly.
Elizabeth cast a quick glance toward the girl and then to the doctor. “Sir, please be so kind as to instruct Janey in detail about anything we must do for the present; in the meantime, if you would be so kind, please join us in the library in a few minutes. Mr. Darcy will be informed instantly, and he will surely fetch his personal physician. You are correct, sir; we should seek another opinion—not because we do not trust you but precisely because you advised us to do so.”
Elizabeth’s voice sounded so cold and impersonal in its determination that both Georgiana and the maid looked at her in surprise. Elizabeth seemed to have lost any warmth, feeling, or emotion; she even avoided looking at the bed where Cassandra was lying. Only her pallid features and the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her anguish.
Elizabeth exited the room, and Georgiana followed. “Elizabeth, our doctor is Cassandra’s doctor, too. He is the best surgeon…Elizabeth, please, wait for me…” Though she received no answer, Georgiana could not fail to notice Elizabeth’s violent gesture as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
“We have no time to lose, Georgiana,” she said as they entered the room where the family, including Miss Bingley, was still gathered. Elizabeth related everything she had heard from the doctor, and nobody interrupted her until she concluded.
“We must inform Mr. Darcy immediately.”
“I shall take care of that,” said Mr. Bingley, rising from his seat.
“Just a moment, sir.” Mr. Bennet drew all eyes toward him. “I…I would like to write to Mr. Darcy myself if you would allow me.”
“Of course, sir,” accepted Mr. Bingley, not without surprise.
“Papa, we must send the note without delay,” Elizabeth insisted, and her father nodded in agreement. “He must return immediately and bring his surgeon with him.”
“I shall send a servant as soon as I return home, which will be in a few minutes. We will not bother Mr. Bingley any longer. We will be home if you need us, Lizzy. And tomorrow morning we will call again,” Mr. Bennet said as he prepared to leave, accompanied by the Gardiners.
“Mr. Bennet,” Georgiana spoke up, “Mrs. Spencer must be informed, too. She has been Cassandra’s companion for years.”
“Miss Darcy, can you give me Lady Cassandra’s direction and perhaps the doctor’s, as well?”
“Of course, Mr. Bennet, but William knows them—
“Yes, I imagine,” Mr. Bennet replied, avoiding his daughter’s glance. “I was thinking that maybe…just in case…”
“Very well, sir, I shall write them down this instant,” Georgiana said.
***
The small carriage moved at a slow pace toward Longbourn. It was a cold, bleak autumn night, yet it was not as bleak as the spirits of its passengers.
“I cannot believe this is happening,�
� said Mrs. Gardiner. “Last night at this hour we were in the midst of a delightful ball, and now…How could this happen? I keep praying that the Lord will have mercy and all will turn out well in the end.”
“We must have faith,” agreed Mr. Gardiner. “Lady Cassandra will be well taken care of, especially when Darcy brings his doctor. I am sure—
“I cannot inform Darcy…at least not tonight.” Mr. Bennet’s companions looked at him in shock.
“What on earth are you saying, brother?” cried Mrs. Gardiner. “This is no time to jest.”
“Thank you for informing me; I am aware of the gravity of the situation,” Mr. Bennet replied coldly. “I am surely not jesting, but—
“But? You are surely not acting properly either,” said Mr. Gardiner. “I will write to Mr. Darcy and will take care of sending the servant as soon as we get home.
“You cannot do that. We cannot inform Mr. Darcy until we are certain he has successfully concluded the duel with Markham.” The gentleman seemed almost relieved at his slipped confession.
“What?” cried Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner so loudly that the driver stopped the carriage to inquire whether something was wrong.
“You must keep this in the strictest confidence,” Mr. Bennet continued as soon as they were moving again. “I had promised not to tell a soul, but the situation is so complicated that I need to consult with someone.”
“You are out of your senses,” Mrs. Gardiner concluded while her husband urged Mr. Bennet to reveal the entire truth.
“The day before the ball…after that night when…well, Darcy went to talk to Markham. I do not know whether you are aware of it, but the Markhams were visiting a family only ten miles from Netherfield. Darcy went to speak to him secretly. The talk did not go well, and Darcy had no other option but to call him out. I think they will fight tomorrow morning at dawn on a field near London. Only the colonel was informed as he will be Darcy’s second.”
“You are out of your senses,” Mrs. Gardiner repeated. “You, Mr. Darcy, and the colonel—three gentlemen without sense or reason!”
“This is madness,” Mr. Gardiner agreed. “Duels are not legal; you know that! Mr. Darcy is jeopardising his life, now, before his wedding!”
“The colonel assured me Mr. Darcy is superior to Markham in every respect, and he can defeat him any time with any weapon.” Mr. Bennet sounded like a child attempting to justify misbehaviour.
“Oh, the colonel assured you; then we can sleep in peace.” Mrs. Gardiner’s mocking tone was such as neither of the gentlemen had heard before. “Is Lizzy aware of this? I dare say not.”
“No, Lizzy knows nothing, and you must swear your secrecy, and Madeline, do not look at me with such reproach. I do know how dangerous the situation is. Darcy confessed everything to me precisely because I am Lizzy’s father, and he felt responsible for her because they are now officially engaged. If anything should happen to him, he asked my consent to have an arrangement settled on Elizabeth in case he…in case the duel should not end as we hope.”
He took a deep breath before continuing, obviously affected. “Of course I tried to change his mind…at first…but I could not heartily say I disagreed with him. He attempted to speak reasonably with the Markhams. He gave me his word that, if Markham admitted his fault and said that it all had been a drunken man’s wild behaviour, Darcy would put everything aside, but Markham insisted he wanted Elizabeth, would finally have her, and would gladly fight Darcy for her. Brother, if you could have heard him that night—he seemed out of his senses. Kept telling me he wanted to marry Lizzy. Can you imagine? Lizzy will never be safe if Darcy does not teach him a hard lesson. And what if Darcy hurts Markham? Maybe he will—I pray God he will—but what then? The earl could hold that against Darcy. What would he do—expose his name and his reputation to censure? How would that help Lizzy?” he concluded, exhausted.
“Let us not think so far ahead,” Mr. Gardiner intervened. “The situation is difficult, indeed, but let us find a way to handle it for everyone’s benefit.”
“I see no way out,” said Mr. Bennet. “If I inform Mr. Darcy this evening, the news might affect him so that he would not be in a proper state of mind for the duel. If we wait until he sends me notice after the duel, it might be too late for Lady Cassandra. What should I do? I managed to get the doctor’s direction from Miss Darcy. I thought I could fetch the doctor, but how can I convince him to come to Hertfordshire and attend her ladyship without involving Mr. Darcy?”
A few long moments of silence followed; Longbourn was before them when Mr. Gardiner spoke again, trying to meet his wife’s eyes in the darkness.
“I shall go to London personally; I shall leave as soon as I change my attire. I will be there in a couple of hours. I will first talk to Lady Cassandra’s companion; I was introduced to her at the private ball. I am certain she will want to come to Netherfield immediately. She will help me fetch the doctor. I will send them here as soon as possible; in the meantime, I will seek out Mr. Darcy, and hopefully, we shall all return tomorrow night.”
Mrs. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet listened without a word; the carriage stopped in front of Longbourn, and they all exited. “I shall help you prepare yourself,” his wife said briefly.
Mr. Bennet sighed. “Thank you, brother. I shall always be grateful to you.”
***
In Cassandra’s room there was silence—profound, frightening silence.
Janey and Georgiana refused to leave the room at all, so the former had fallen asleep in a chair and the latter was resting near the bed, her head close to Cassandra’s, holding her hand.
Elizabeth sat in an armchair on the other side of the bed. She had abandoned any struggle or pretence of composure—any mask she had tried to wear during the day. She allowed the tears to flow as painful, vivid recollections brought her back to the day when she had first seen Cassandra at the theatre.
How much their relationship had changed in such a short time! That day at Netherfield—the first day of her engagement—they finally had talked openly and clarified everything between them. Cassandra’s compliments and praise were dear to Elizabeth as she was certain they were honestly expressed. Cassandra was not a woman to practice disguise of any sort. Very much like William, Elizabeth thought, tearfully.
Looking at Cassandra’s form beneath the sheets, Elizabeth could scarcely bear the pain she felt. She had enjoyed her growing friendship with Cassandra and known for some time that she truly cared for her, but only then in that dark, silent room did Elizabeth truly feel she had come to consider Cassandra more than a friend. She could not grieve for her own sisters more than she grieved for Cassandra at that moment as she wondered how long she would be with them.
What happened to that lively, fearless woman? What unbearable burden had thrown her to the ground? What cruel secret had drained her of life, spirit, and wit and left her tormented these last weeks? How was it possible that a woman who had ridden wildly through a dreadful storm at Pemberley to save her and Georgiana could simply fall from her horse?
The more Elizabeth pondered it, the more certain she was that the explanation for Cassandra’s transformation was the colonel. Something happened between them when the he appeared in the neighbourhood—maybe even sooner as Cassandra’s low spirits had been apparent since she first come to Hertfordshire. But what was it?
As she began to think with more clarity, Elizabeth realised that Cassandra’s behaviour was not unfamiliar to her. She had seen such turmoil before in her sister Jane after Mr. Bingley left unexpectedly last winter.
Could that have happened to Cassandra, too? Not very likely—she and the colonel seemed perfectly suited to each other, and there was no apparent reason for them to be apart if their desire was to be together. But what if it were not mutual affection but the unshared inclination of only one of them? Was it possible that Cassandra had tender feelings toward the colonel that were unrequited? Could that be the reason for her desperation?
But no—the colonel d
id not seem to reject her at all—quite the contrary! Of course, Elizabeth could not be entirely certain of her perceptions regarding either friend, since every time she had been in their company, Elizabeth’s thoughts and attention were directed solely at Darcy. Yet, she could be fairly certain the colonel did not behave like a gentleman rejecting a lady.
“Elizabeth, come quickly! Cassandra has moved! She squeezed my hand, and she is saying something!”
Georgiana’s cries so startled Elizabeth that for a moment she could not move; an instant later, she leaned as closely as she could toward Cassandra’s face to understand the words she struggled to whisper. Elizabeth’s eyes met Georgiana’s and they shared both the relief of seeing Cassandra’s first moves and the surprise of hearing her repeating, more than once, a single word: “David.”
It was dark, so very dark that Cassandra could see nothing, not even herself. And cold…freezing…She wanted to wrap her arms around herself for warmth, but they would not move. She was trembling from cold as well as fear. She was alone; she was lost. The hole in which she was trapped was so deep there was no possible escape alone. She was too small—too powerless. She tried to run, but her feet would not obey, and where could she run? There was no hope left. She was lost. She could scream, praying someone would help her, but if they came after her, they would punish her for being disobedient. They always told her a little girl should not ride like that…yet, any punishment was better than the darkness that surrounded her. She had never been afraid of darkness, so why was she so frightened now? And why was her voice so weak? She must cry louder, louder. If she could only cry loud enough so he could hear her…he would surely come and save her…David…David…
***
A day and night of torment and fears had passed—a time spent in prayers and dim hopes.
Early in the morning before breakfast, Mrs. Spencer and Lady Cassandra’s personal doctor arrived at Netherfield. Though she was relieved to have the second doctor’s assistance and Mrs. Spencer’s presence, Elizabeth was deeply concerned that Darcy had not accompanied them. Mrs. Spencer mentioned briefly that Mr. Darcy had some last-minute business and most likely would return later. How could that be? What kind of business could possibly keep him in London when his lifelong friend, as dear to him as a sister, was in grave danger of losing her life?
