Mr. Darcy took three smooth strides with Elizabeth in his arms, and before she knew it, Elizabeth was settled onto the horse in front of her uncle.
“We’ll have to take an easy pace,” Mr. Darcy said carefully.
Elizabeth willed herself to follow the plans the others were making, but her head felt as if it were filling up with sand and it was becoming difficult to think once more. More conversation followed, but she could not say what they decided.
Several minutes later, they were leaving the ruined church behind. The motion of the horse and the fullness of her head combined to make her extremely sleepy. Mr. Darcy glanced back and noticed her falling asleep.
“Keep her awake,” he said in a stern voice and Elizabeth felt her uncle tap her sharply.
“I’m sorry, Lizzy,” he said apologetically. “But Mr. Darcy is right. You must stay awake.”
“I’m trying, Uncle.” To her surprise, her words came out slurred and thick. To stay awake, she decided it would be best to speak. “I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen. I’m so embarrassed. Mr. Darcy offered to help me, but I turned down his help. And now you have to take care of me.”
“It’s quite fine,” she heard her uncle say. If she had turned around, she would have seen a smile playing out across his face. She continued to talk, but she did not really know what she said. She noticed, from time to time, that her uncle seemed to laugh, but he quickly turned it into a cough. Her aunt rode close by and seemed to cough a lot during the ride as well.
Though she talked to her uncle, she kept her eyes on Mr. Darcy’s back. He had tied Tiberius’ reins to his saddle and took them at as quick a pace as he seemed to dare. Once or twice, he glanced back at her and each time she noted that he looked very pale and his jaw seemed to be clenched.
Elizabeth did not know how long it took for them to return to the house, but soon their horses began to crunch across the gravel drive to the door. As soon as they reached the drive, Mr. Darcy kicked his horse forward and rushed to the door, calling for servants. He threw himself from the saddle and addressed the men who came running to meet him.
“Send for the doctor!” He gasped. “Prepare a room for Miss Elizabeth Bennet and hurry! She was thrown from her horse.”
Elizabeth watched with mild interest as the servants hurried off to follow Mr. Darcy’s instructions. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she felt abashed that he had told them she fell off a horse. But she felt too tired and in too much pain to pay much attention to it.
“Here we are now,” Uncle Gardiner said, gently stopping his horse.
Before she could register that they had stopped, Elizabeth felt herself being lifted down off the horse once more. The smell that reached her nose first told her that it was once again Mr. Darcy. He smells good, she thought to herself, and was immediately mortified at the thought. She felt herself moving across the drive and up the stairs towards the door. At the door, she noticed that she was once more transferred to her uncle’s care.
“Mrs. Reynolds will show you to a room for her,” Elizabeth heard Mr. Darcy say. She heard her aunt and uncle begin to thank him profusely. They sounded worried, but their appreciation for Mr. Darcy was also quite obvious. Despite her displeasure with the situation, she knew that Mr. Darcy was being exceedingly kind and deserved her gratitude as well.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes half-closed. She saw Mr. Darcy turn to her, surprised to hear her speak.
“Of course,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. “Please excuse me, I must see to the doctor.” He turned on his heel and hurried away. Elizabeth felt a little hurt by his reaction: was he really so eager to be away from her in her current state?
“Come on, my dear Lizzy,” Aunt Gardiner said. “Let us put you to bed.” She gently moved Elizabeth’s hair off her forehead.
“A fine idea,” her uncle agreed.
Elizabeth was too exhausted to say anything else in response and as they entered the cool interior of the great house, she finally lost her battle against sleep and her eyes fell shut.
Chapter 6
Darcy
Darcy hurried away, unable to bear seeing Elizabeth in such a state. It was his fault that she was now being carried to a sick bed: it had been his suggestion to go riding and his horse that had thrown her. The guilt had already begun to gnaw at him. All he could do was fetch the doctor with all possible haste, but he knew that was not enough. There must be something he could do for her, he thought desperately, running his hands through his hair.
“Sir,” a footman caught his attention, and bowed quickly.
“Yes,” he snapped. “What is it?”
The footman looked nervous and, under different circumstances, Darcy would have made more of an effort to moderate his tone. However, at present, he was far too occupied with other things.
“A message from the village,” the footman said with a bow. “The doctor is on his way and should be here shortly.”
“Very good,” Darcy said, feeling bad for his harsh tone. “There is no need to wait for him, I shall do it myself.”
As master of the house, it was unusual for him to personally wait for guests. However, this was action. This was an opportunity to do more than just wait. He needed purpose in this moment and even something as simple as waiting for the arrival of the doctor might provide that.
He moved out onto the veranda and stood with his back to his house, his eyes fixed upon the drive. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, and his hands clasped behind his back. He tried to calm the anxiety that kept coming over him in waves—everything that could be done was being done. Darcy tried to tell himself that his worry did nothing for Elizabeth, that it would be far more helpful to present a calm and reassuring demeanour. But the anxiety won out more moments than not.
Complicating everything was the absurd hope that had begun to blossom within him. That Elizabeth could be persuaded to reconsider his request, that she could begin to see him in a different light. It was not merely his imagination: she had laughed and enjoyed their ride. She had enjoyed his company, as he had enjoyed hers.
When the hope for reconciliation had begun earlier that afternoon, he had attempted to push it away as unlikely. And now that Elizabeth had been grievously injured under his watch, the hope was becoming more and more foolish.
And yet, like the anxiety and worry, he could not banish that rising hope. Darcy adjusted his stance, eyes still on the road, and resisted the temptation to sigh deeply. The pain of Elizabeth’s rejection had been a deep gash upon his soul. Logic told him that inviting that sort of pain once more was utter idiocy. Logic had always won out in his mind, but this time, logic was losing the battle against emotions whose intensity was unfamiliar.
Never before had he felt so deeply as he felt in these days: affection, pain, grief, loss, and now mounting fear. Elizabeth was the catalyst for all of these, and Darcy knew not what to do with such things.
He once again attempts to tamp down his feelings, but before he could make too great an effort, he saw a pair of ponies turning the corner, pulling a simple two-wheeled cart. Squinting, he could see the shock of red hair that belonged to the local doctor, Dr. Milligan. Darcy turned to the stairs and hurried down to meet the doctor.
“Whoa!” The doctor pulled back on his reins and the ponies came to a stop.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Darcy said, walking around to help the portly man from his seat.
“Not at all, Mr. Darcy. Not at all,” the doctor puffed, handing down his bag to Darcy.
The local medical man was a jocular figure, prone to smiles even in the worst of situations. On another man, people may take offence, but the good doctor had an ingratiating manner about him and the people of Lambton and the nearby villages looked to the man’s good nature in both happy and turbulent times.
Dr. Milligan swung down from his cart with little grace and took his bag from Darcy. He caught sight of Darcy’s face and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
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br /> “Chin up, Mr. Darcy,” the man said kindly. “I’m sure we can get everything sorted. Now, lead on, and tell me about the young lady’s condition.”
“Of course, Dr. Milligan, right this way.” Darcy directed the man towards the stairs leading to the front door. The corpulent man’s subtle reassurances had, much to Darcy’s surprise, proved far more effective a remedy to the worry that had plagued him since Elizabeth’s fall. “Miss Elizabeth, the lady in question, fell from a horse and hit her head.”
“Oh, dear me,” Dr. Milligan said, slightly out-of-breath as he climbed the stairs. “And did she lose consciousness?”
“For a moment,” Darcy said. “But she kept awake all through the ride back to the house. Her aunt and uncle are with her now.”
“Excellent thinking, keeping her from sleeping,” Dr. Milligan said approvingly. “I cannot give a solid opinion until I see her for myself, but from what you say, I am not terribly worried.”
Relief washed through Darcy. He had not realised how much he needed to hear words of calm reassurances until the doctor offered them. Darcy slowed his pace, realising the doctor was uncomfortable maintaining the brisk walk Darcy had started with. But in no time, they had arrived at the door of the guest room Darcy’s servants had quickly prepared for Elizabeth’s use.
Knocking lightly upon the door, Darcy waited for a moment before entering. He saw Elizabeth on the bed, pale and with a crease of pain on her forehead. Her eyes were closed, but she blearily opened them upon hearing Darcy enter. She tried to sit up to greet them, but Mrs. Gardiner lightly pushed her back to the bed. Darcy felt his heart clench at the sight: she was the one injured and yet she wanted to be polite and friendly to the newcomers?
“This is Dr. Milligan,” Darcy said, making the introductions. “Dr. Milligan, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and her aunt and uncle Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.” Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner got to their feet and bowed slightly to the doctor who nodded to return.
“‘A pleasure’ seems like a poor utterance under the circumstance,” Dr. Milligan said, putting his bag down upon the dressing table. “However, polite society had very little to offer as an alternative in circumstances such as these.”
“A pitiable oversight,” Elizabeth said from the bed.
Darcy turned toward her and was gladdened to hear such wit, but his joy was tempered by the realization that Elizabeth had spoken slowly, her words slightly slurred. Worry began to return: she was not alright.
“Well, Miss Elizabeth,” Dr. Milligan said energetically. “Let us have a look at you.”
Elizabeth nodded her assent, but winced at the movement.
“Was that painful?” Dr. Milligan asked quickly.
“A bit,” Elizabeth admitted. “Moving my head too quickly brings a bit of sharpness to the general discomfort.” She continued to speak slowly, as if unsure her words would come out as she intended.
“Any trouble seeing?” Dr. Milligan asked. “With thought or speech?” He stooped over her and began peering into her eyes and doing other elements of his examination.
“No trouble seeing,” Elizabeth answered in that same slurred voice. “A bit of trouble with thought and speech.” She smiled ruefully. “Under normal circumstances, I am quite more eloquent and enunciate far more precisely.”
Dr. Milligan chuckled and continued his examination. He asked more questions, and his practised hands checked over Elizabeth. Darcy turned his back at this, unsure if he should stay or leave. However, his curiosity and worry were far too great to be chased away. And seeing as neither the doctor, nor Elizabeth, nor Mrs. Gardiner asked him to leave, he took it as permission to stay.
A yelp of pain, however, encouraged him to look at Elizabeth once more.
“Dear me,” Dr. Milligan clucked. “A concussion and a sprained ankle. You have had a most unlucky day, my dear.”
“It is a sprain then?” Mrs. Gardiner said, sounding worried.
“I should think so,” the doctor replied. “I can feel no bones out of place and the tenderness with which she has reacted indicate sprain rather than fracture.” He smiled at Elizabeth. “Should you have fractured your ankle, touching it would have produced a far greater cry.”
“She is alright then?” Mr. Gardiner asked as Dr. Milligan repacked his bag.
“She will be,” Dr. Milligan said. Darcy saw Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sigh with relief. He too felt the fear that had held him captive for the last hours begin to fade. She would be alright!
“Can we take her home?” Mrs. Gardiner asked. “We cannot intrude upon Mr. Darcy’s hospitality for too long.”
“Please,” Darcy interjected before the doctor could answer. “Do not let concern for my comfort persuade you to action. I am sure Miss Elizabeth would be far more comfortable surrounded by her family but she, and you, are welcome to stay for as long as you like.”
“Such an offer is most generous,” Dr. Milligan observed. “And most necessary. For I do not recommend moving her for several days at least. A week or more would not go amiss. No, I’m afraid I must insist that she remain here for the present.”
“If that is the case, Mr. Darcy, we most gratefully accept your invitation,” Mr. Gardiner said graciously.
“Excellent,” Darcy said, feeling a rise in excitement. Elizabeth would be here for days! He hated the circumstances that had proved this to be a necessary arrangement, but there was a growing delight at the outcome.
“I insist that you and Mrs. Gardiner remain here as well.” Mr. Gardiner opened his mouth to protest. “No, please, I know that Miss Elizabeth would be far more comforted by your presence.”
“He is right,” Mrs. Gardiner said firmly. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“I will have your things brought from the inn,” Darcy said, thinking through what would need to be done for their stay. “And there is a second guest bedroom across the hall from this one. I will have it prepared for you at once.”
He walked to a small rope positioned by the bed and gently pulled upon it, calling for a servant.
All through this conversation, Elizabeth had been silent. Darcy looked down at the bed and saw that Elizabeth’s eyes were closed once more and she was breathing the deep, even breaths of sleep.
“Is it permissible for her to sleep?” Darcy asked, worried.
“Sleep is the body’s way to heal itself,” Dr. Milligan said with reassurance. “She should sleep as often as she can over the next days.” He held up a small bottle and directed his next instructions to Mrs. Gardiner. “I am leaving this in case of pain. Two or three drops dissolved in water is all she will require.”
“Thank you for coming, doctor,” Darcy said, walking back towards the door. “May I interest you in a glass of port before you go? Mr. Gardiner, you are most welcome to join us as well.”
“No, thank you,” Dr. Milligan sighed. “I’m afraid I have a previous engagement this evening for which I must prepare.”
“Another time, then,” Darcy said, holding the door open for the doctor.
Walking into the hallway, the servant whom he had rung for dropped into a low bow. Darcy quickly directed her to prepare a second guest room and to send someone to the inn for the Gardiners’ and Elizabeth’s belongings. With that finished, he and Dr. Milligan walked through the house towards the door.
“She will truly be alright?” Darcy asked, wanting to hear the doctor’s reassurances once more. Darcy was so intent upon the path to the door that he missed Dr. Milligan’s amused glance in his direction.
“Rest, good food, and attentive care is all she needs,” Dr. Milligan said. “She will be up and on her feet in a few days. She strikes me as the sort of woman who will object to staying in her sick bed, is she not?”
“You have marked her well, Dr. Milligan,” Darcy laughed as he opened the front door.
“Tell her aunt to keep her abed for at least three days. Five or a whole week would be best, but at least three days.”
“I shall inform Mrs. Gardiner and we shall all do our be
st to ensure Miss Elizabeth follows your instructions,” Darcy promised. He and the doctor walked outdoors and to Dr. Milligan’s conveyance.
“Call for me if anything changes,” Dr. Milligan said, settling himself onto his seat. “Or if your port seems lonely and could use some company.”
Darcy smiled at the comment and nodded his head as Dr. Milligan whipped his ponies into motion.
Turning towards his house once more, Darcy wondered what his happiness over Elizabeth’s extended visit meant for his character. For him to find joy amid her pain seemed morbid, but he could not deny that this horrible situation was resolving itself into something that would please him. Perhaps it was selfish, but it was the truth.
Now, Darcy thought, to figure out how to make the most of it.
Chapter 7
Elizabeth
The sun was bright as it passed over Elizabeth’s sleeping face. With a sigh, she rolled over and opened her eyes, gazing at the copse of trees that made up the view from her window. She had thought she was finished with these afternoon naps, that she was sufficiently recovered to be able to remain awake and alert for the whole day. But, alas, she still felt the pull of fatigue if she pushed herself too far.
She was annoyed that a simple, and slow, walk through the park was deemed “too far” by her rebellious body. Her accident was a full week behind her and yet she was still feeling the effects in a most noticeable manner!
Sitting up, Elizabeth noted that her head felt heavy and thick. This was by far the most annoying part of her injury—the impact upon her ability to think was far more irritating than fatigue or the slight twinge in her ankle. It frightened her, at times, to be sitting and conversing with her aunt or uncle, and realise that she could not recall what had been said just a few moments before. And it was disconcerting to find herself sitting and searching for a word that she was certain she should know instantly.
Elizabeth wished there was someone in whom she could confide these horrible moments. She could not tell her aunt and uncle—they were already anxious enough! And to offer Mr. Darcy such a secret… well, Elizabeth thought, that was simply out of the question.
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