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Chapter 33

Posted on Thursday, 21 March 2002

(DNA - A Warning to the Reader of Gentle Disposition and Discerning Taste: The Following contains Very Bad Melodrama Indeed. If you do not like Very Bad Melodrama, do not Read On. And you can't email me to get the non-Bad Melodrama version, because there isn't one, hehe. But fear not, gentle readers - it can't get worse than this...or can it?)

A Desperate Man

Her eyes widened in shock and terror as Wickham swiftly closed the distance between them, grabbing her by one arm and dragging her out of Darcy's reach. She found herself roughly spun around so that her back was against Wickham's chest, pinned there by a viselike grip as one of his arms pressed against her throat. The other still held the pistol, cocked and ready to fire, pressed firmly against her temple.

"Calm yourself, Darcy," said Wickham, a chuckle in his voice. "If you come closer, you might not like the consequences. These things are notorious for going off unexpectedly."

Darcy froze, horrified. "You wouldn't dare..." he said, menace in every syllable.

"On the contrary, old friend. I would dare a great deal; so you can stop thinking of heroic strategies right now." For a moment the pressure on Elizabeth's temple increased; she cried out involuntarily, but was wise enough not to struggle. The rage on Darcy's face was unmistakable, his fists clenched in frustration at his helplessness. Elizabeth's eyes pleaded with him to keep still; as frightened as she was, she did not want the pistol pointed at Darcy.

"What do you want, Wickham?" Darcy forced himself to speak.

"Well, it seems my military career is at an end, due to certain false rumours circulated about me. I had a notion you might know who was responsible - or does Miss Bennet have any ideas?"

To her surprise, the initial panic she had first felt was passing, and Elizabeth found herself able to think clearly again. "I am sorry, Mr. Wickham," she said, a tremor entering her voice despite her best efforts. "I have not the smallest clue who would have done such a thing."

He laughed, and his arm tightened, nearly choking her. "Well the list of possibilities is not so large, is it, Miss Bennet? Those in possession of certain so-called "facts" cannot be many - and I believe Darcy told you much whilst at Rosings."

"Not so much, sir," Elizabeth managed to reply, her voice hoarse. "And in any case, I always believe in giving people a second chance. Any unfavourable reports you heard did not come from me."

Wickham gave a bitter smile. "It is all one to me, in any case. But it seems my luck has turned. You have given me the perfect leverage, Miss Bennet - for I believe our hero will give me anything I ask before he will risk your life - am I not right, Darcy?"

Darcy glared at him, but had no choice in his response. "Yes. Make your demands, then let her go! I will give you whatever is in my power to grant. You have my word."

"Indeed," smiled Wickham. He must have felt some relief at Darcy's declaration, or else was lulled by Elizabeth's lack of fight; the arm holding her loosened slightly, and the pistol left her to point at Darcy. "I find it best if I travel, perhaps to America. I will require the means to live comfortably there; perhaps you would be so good as to use your influence to secure me a good position - in government, maybe."

"You shall have it," said Darcy grimly. He looked at Elizabeth, concerned, and was surprised to see no fear in her eyes; only resolution. There will not be a better opportunity to try something impulsive and imprudent, she thought to herself. She gave Darcy the smallest of smiles. He frowned at her, trying to warn her to do nothing foolish.

"Or I may prefer the life of a landowner," Wickham continued. "I am sure you could purchase me - Aaarrgh!" His recitation was transformed into a howl of pain; Elizabeth had lowered her head and bitten his hand as hard as she could. He tried to pull away from her, whereupon she kicked him solidly in the shins. Wickham was in disarray; Darcy sprang. In his terror Wickham discharged the pistol wildly, missing Darcy, who knocked Wickham staggering backwards, then seized his collar and struck him with all his might. The would-be blackmailer lay groaning on the ground, bleeding. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner came running frantically; they had been following the lovers at a discreet distance, too curious to stay away. Wickham's scream and the pistol-shot had alerted them; they had not had to come far.

Darcy bent and hauled Wickham to his feet, so that he could hit him again, which he did with great satisfaction. This time Wickham lay stunned, barely moving; Darcy cradled his right hand, which felt broken.

"Lizzy!" screamed Mrs. Gardiner. Something in her tone sent a cold fist clutching at Darcy's heart. He turned to see Elizabeth lying crumpled, still as death, behind him on the grass; there was blood all down her face, and pooling beneath her head. For a moment he thought the earth had stopped; he could hear nothing, understand nothing, could not move. Mrs. Gardiner threw herself to her knees beside her niece, distraught.

"Oh my God, Lizzy!"

Mr. Gardiner arrived, out of breath. "Don't move her, Madeline! Let me see."

"She breathes! Oh thank God," cried Mrs. Gardiner, who had been watching closely for signs of life. "Edward, can you see how bad it is?"

"No," said Mr. Gardiner, pale with shock. "There is too much blood. Mr. Darcy, have you a handkerchief?"

But Darcy could not respond, so deeply in distress was he. The Gardiners exchanged a quick glance, and Mrs. Gardiner rose, taking Darcy's limp hand.

"Mr. Darcy," she said, her tone low and calm, "You must go and fetch your servants at once, and call for the doctor. Go swiftly, sir, for Lizzy's life depends on it."

His breathing ragged, Darcy looked down on Elizabeth's aunt as though seeing her for the first time; he nodded, and with a last despairing glance at Elizabeth's still form, left them at a run.

Mr. Gardiner, meanwhile, practically tore off his cravat in his haste to remove it. He pressed it to Elizabeth's forehead, trying to stem the flow.

Three hours later, Darcy was pacing outside his rooms at Pemberley. He had insisted that Elizabeth be given his own suite, which boasted comforts that some of the guestrooms did not. The Gardiners had accepted his invitation to stay at Pemberley for as long as need be; Mr. Gardiner and two maids were currently assisting the doctor inside. Darcy's hand had swollen, but he was grateful for the pain. There was a terrible sensation in his chest, as though his heart had broken open, or something had torn inside him; any distraction was welcome.

Mrs. Gardiner entered the sitting room, carrying a tray with the makings of tea. She regarded Darcy worriedly. He was taking it all very badly indeed, and no wonder, she supposed. If the scene she and Mr. Gardiner had inadvertently disturbed earlier was any indication, her niece would soon have had some very happy news to impart to her family. Or perhaps an understanding had already been reached? Darcy had not said anything - but then, he had not been able to discuss Elizabeth at all since the dreadful accident. Only the sketchiest details of the incident were known, though the general import of it had been plain for anyone to see. Thank goodness, that fiend Wickham was now in custody and suffering. Darcy had broken his nose and jaw; it would be some time before Mr. Wickham would be able to charm anyone again. His hand, also, had been quite badly injured by a deep bite. Well, Mrs. Gardiner reflected with a sigh, Mr. Darcy was a dangerous fellow when roused. And an utterly miserable fellow at present.

"Mr. Darcy," she addressed him compassionately. "Come and sit down. You must have some tea; it will do you good."

Darcy looked over at her. His face was pale, his hair unkempt. "I cannot, madam. I...forgive me."

"Come, sir. You cannot help Lizzy by punishing yourself," she assured him earnestly. "Do you really think she would wish to see you like this?"

"Who else will punish me, if not myself?" he muttered hoarsely. "It was my fault; all my fault."

Mrs. Gardiner said nothing more; but with a determined glance, she stood up and approached the unhappy man. She seized his good hand and pulled him gently to the sofa; he could not resist without being rude, and had to follow her. She seated him firmly, then sat next to him, facing his way.

"Mr. Darcy, I cannot pretend to know you well," Mrs. Gardiner began, "But I believe that I know you well enough to say this: that whatever George Wickham may have done, whatever he may have said, you drove him to nothing. His behaviour is his own decision and his own problem. Do not fault yourself over the actions of a most worthless young man!"

Darcy shook his head. "I should have moved faster; I should have seen it coming."

Mrs. Gardiner rolled her eyes. "That is hardly helpful, or even honest, Mr. Darcy," she admonished him lightly. "You do not mean it. Now, I know this will be unpleasant, but I believe the time has come to tell me all that happened."

Darcy rubbed his face, distressed. "I cannot stop thinking about it."

"If you speak of it, it will help you control your thoughts," she assured him earnestly. "Indeed, you are giving me as much worry as Lizzy is. My husband and I believe we may consider you as almost a member of the family now, Mr. Darcy. You need to speak of it - tell me how it happened."

Darcy's bloodshot eyes met Mrs. Gardiner's. Her eyes were dark, shining with friendship and compassion. Something welled up from inside him, seizing his throat in a vice so that he could barely breathe. He felt the muscles of his face begin spasming; a tear leaked from one eye, and abruptly a raw sob tore from his chest. The tears flowed freely as Darcy hid his face in his hands and wept as though his heart would break, while Mrs. Gardiner spoke soothing words and stroked his convulsing shoulders.

Half an hour later, an exhausted Mr. Gardiner opened the door leading to Darcy's dressing room and stepped out. Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner were sitting together on the lounge, talking quietly; they both looked up anxiously as they heard the door open.

"Edward!" said Mrs. Gardiner, surging to her feet. "What news? Is she all right?" She inspected her husband's pale face apprehensively.

"The news is both good and bad," said Mr. Gardiner, taking his wife's hands and pressing them between his own. "The good news is, the shot only grazed her skull; it did not enter. The wound is a nasty one, but it should heal, as long as infection can be prevented."

Darcy let out a ragged sigh; he had been holding his breath, quite unconsciously. "But what of the other news, sir. Tell us all you can."

Mr. Gardiner looked gravely at Darcy, and said, "The bad news is that she is still not conscious. Dr. Maxwell fears that the blow she received has caused some internal damage, though it is impossible to ascertain how much. He knows of cases where such patients have awakened quite naturally in a day or two, as though they had been sleeping - and also cases where the poor things never woke again. We can only wait, and let time reveal the will of God."

Darcy looked stricken; Mrs. Gardiner hastily spoke to reassure him. "Lizzy is a strong young woman, Mr. Darcy, and very strong-minded. I have every confidence that if survival is possible, she will survive - has she not everything to live for?"

Slowly, Darcy nodded. "Yes. Yes, you are right, Mrs. Gardiner. Thank you." He gave her a heartfelt look, communicating his gratitude concerning other things as well; she acknowledged this with a graceful nod, and a warm smile.

At that moment Dr. Maxwell entered the room, carrying his black bag. He was an old family friend, having known Darcy's parents well, and was an experienced and able practitioner. He looked around at them all, a faint smile on his lips. "Well, Mr. Darcy, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner: your young lady has had a miraculous escape."

"Indeed, sir," said Mrs. Gardiner. "My husband was just saying how close it was. We cannot thank you enough - please sit with us, and have some tea."

"I can't deny that would hit the spot - but only briefly, I'm afraid - your hand needs some attention, I believe, Mr. Darcy."

"It can wait," said Darcy, gesturing the elderly doctor to a chair. Fresh tea was called for, and the Gardiners seated themselves.

"It was a glancing wound, I understand," said Darcy to Dr. Maxwell, determined to know every detail.

"Yes; but I must tell you it is a bit more serious than a graze. The bullet struck at a shallow angle, you know, but a bit of the bone was actually damaged. There could be some fracturing. She should be kept completely still for at least a fortnight; in a way, this unconsciousness is a blessing, as sleep is one of the best healing agents I know of."

"Will there be a full recovery, then?" said Darcy.

"I believe so," smiled the kindly physician. "I cannot pretend there is no risk, for there is much we do not understand where head injuries are concerned. But Miss Bennet seems exceptionally fit and healthy, and Mr. Gardiner assures me she has a strong will and a great deal of determination. In my opinion, she has every good chance of a complete return to normal. She will sport an impressive scar, mind you; it is difficult to stitch such injuries."

The tea arrived, and the doctor accepted his cup gratefully. He took a few sips, then continued. "I have instructed the servants in how best to care for her, and I will be by every day to check up on her condition. As long as an infection can be avoided, it is a hopeful case."

"You reassure us greatly," smiled Mrs. Gardiner. "We are most appreciative of your efforts, sir."

"Think nothing of it," said Dr. Maxwell. "To be honest, this sort of excitement is usually unwelcome, in my profession. But the prospect of a happy outcome makes the challenge both worthwhile and rewarding. When I am finished here, I must go and attend to the scoundrel responsible for this dreadful mishap - I do not think I will be so gentle with him." He looked at Darcy from under his bushy eyebrows, and chuckled. "I believe you were responsible for his capture, Mr. Darcy."

"In a manner of speaking," Darcy allowed. "I confess I lost my temper with him, and was more than a little ungentle myself. But were it not for Miss Bennet's bravery, it all might have ended even more sadly."

"How so, Mr. Darcy?" said Mr. Gardiner curiously, for he had not heard the full tale. The doctor echoed his sentiments.

Darcy took a deep breath. "Wickham came upon us at a most inopportune moment - I was in the middle of a marriage proposal."

"Oho!" said Dr. Maxwell, who had known Darcy since boyhood. He offered an aside to Mrs. Gardiner: "Then I must take extra care of our patient."

Darcy glanced at him, and continued. "He seized Miss Bennet and threatened her with the pistol - I had no opportunity to intervene while her life was in such direct peril. But she pretended not to resist him, and as he made his demands of me his attention wavered. To my horror, she immediately took matters into her own hands, and...um...well, to be honest, she bit him and caused him a good deal of pain. Thus distracted, he had no defence against an attack from myself. He got off a lucky shot - I am convinced he was not aiming for her. It was purely evil fortune that she happened to be in the way." His voice had become strained, and his eyes moist as he recited the afternoon's events for a second time. But Mrs. Gardiner had been right - it was getting easier to speak of it without becoming lost in the memory of it.

"My goodness me," said Dr. Maxwell appreciatively. "I never heard of such a thing! Your niece is braver than most men I know!" He looked at the Gardiners, amazed.

"She has more courage than I, of that I am certain," said Darcy quietly, his gaze inward. "She had no thought for her own safety - only for mine."

"Come, Mr. Darcy, let me see that fist of yours," said Dr. Maxwell warmly. "I will not shake your hand yet, for fear of tempting fate; but I may say, sir, that I will do everything within my power to secure your young lady's recovery. If you have the slightest doubt, you must call for me." He opened his bag and began rummaging.

Chapter 34

Other Guests

It was decided that Mr. Gardiner would leave for Longbourn on the morrow, as early as may be, to inform the family in person of Elizabeth's plight. An invitation to Pemberley was of course to be extended to them all for as long as necessary; it mould make for a most interesting party, as Darcy was very shortly expecting the Hursts, Mr. Bingley and his sister, and Darcy's own sister Georgiana to join him in Derbyshire - and he had no way of contacting them to delay their visit, as he knew not where they were. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were great tourists of boutiques, and would insist on stops in every major town to be sure they missed nothing. In the meantime, nothing would satisfy Darcy but to spend as much time as possible watching over Elizabeth, in case she should wake. He sat with her for several hours in the evening, until Mrs. Gardiner coaxed him away.

"I will stay with her," she said. "My husband is resting, but I cannot sleep in any case. I will call you the instant there is a change. You need to rest, Mr. Darcy - you are injured yourself, and have had a most upsetting day."

"You are all kindness, madam," said he with a weary bow of respect. "If I may say so, Elizabeth is most fortunate to have such family as yourself and your husband. I am afraid I cannot boast the same. I am very glad you are here, and I hope you will stay another time, when circumstances are happier."

"Perhaps I will be visiting the two of you," said Mrs. Gardiner with a smile.

"I hope so," said Darcy warmly; and he quit the room, exhausted in body and spirit.

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece's still form, and frowned anxiously. Elizabeth's head was swathed in copious bandages. Her face was white, but for dark circles beneath her eyes. Her left eye, directly under the wound, was swollen and discoloured. Her breathing was shallow, and her hands lay peacefully on her breast. Mrs. Gardiner felt the sting of tears, and adjusted the covers around her favourite young relative. Taking one of Elizabeth's hands gently in her own, she prepared to wait out the long night.

In the morning they bid farewell to Mr. Gardiner, who promised to travel quickly and safely. Mrs. Gardiner was then sent to get some rest, and Mr. Darcy removed to the sickroom, formerly his bedchamber. There had been no change; the servants had been to clean her, and Dr. Maxwell had called by, gratified to find no evidence of infection.

"Do not despair, Mr. Darcy," said the worthy doctor. "It may take some time yet. Her body has much to heal from. And how is your hand?"

"Very well, I thank you," said Darcy gamely. In fact it pained him greatly to move it; but the doctor had successfully immobilised the most painful parts, and it was easily bearable.

That afternoon two carriages arrived, bearing the expected group from London. Georgiana was the first out, almost running inside to greet her brother, who met her on the stairs. She flew into his arms, then drew back in concern.

"But William, what have you done to your hand? And why do you look so sad?"

"Much has happened since last we met, dear one," said Darcy, able to force a smile for the first time that day. "I have very grave news to relate, but I will wait for the others - all should hear it together, as I do not feel up to repeating it. You must be brave, Georgiana; some of it will give you pain."

"I will try," she said, shy and a little fearful in the face of this serious greeting, but determined to justify his trust. "The others are alighting now - Mr. Hurst has the most dreadful headache, for Miss Bingley would not stop talking."

Darcy rolled his eyes slightly, where his sister could not see, and descended the stairs with her.

Darcy gave his guests a most civil welcome, and if it was anything lacking in warmth, most of them made no comment - except Bingley, who spoke quietly to his friend as they all made their way inside.

"I say, Darcy, what is the matter? You look like someone else has died!"

Darcy shot him a quick look, half surprised that Bingley should perceive so much. With a grim smile, he said, "You know not how close you come, Bingley. But make yourself at home; when we meet for tea directly, I shall tell you all."

While his guests settled in, Darcy strode up the stairs to check on Elizabeth and inform Mrs. Gardiner of their arrival. Halfway down a corridor he stopped, thoughtful; and frowning, he made his way swiftly to Georgiana's rooms. She had only just opened them, and was enjoying the prospect out of a window as Darcy knocked diffidently at her door, which was ajar.

She smiled broadly at him. "Oh, it is so good to be home. How I miss Pemberley each time I have to leave it."

A returning smile twitched at Darcy's mouth, but did not reach his eyes.

Georgiana's expression darkened. "Will you not tell me what is bothering you, William? You are making me worried."

He sighed. "Yes, I will tell you. Better, I will show you. It is best if you have some warning, I believe."

Brother and sister walked hand in hand to Darcy's chambers; he told her the bare bones of the story as they went. Georgiana was quite pale by the time they reached the sickroom. Any mention of Wickham still upset her; and such a tale as her brother now related was shocking in the extreme. She knew not how to react, as she could not quite bring herself to believe that anyone would do such a thing, even Wickham. But when Mrs. Gardiner opened the door and they stepped inside, all Georgiana's disbelief was made meaningless. To see Miss Bennet lying so, when last she had seen her so full of life and energy, was highly distressing.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" she breathed shakily, her face pale.

"Any change, Mrs. Gardiner?" Darcy enquired in a low voice. Mrs. Gardiner only shook her head wordlessly. After a quick look at Elizabeth's unmoving body, he touched Georgiana's arm, and said, "Mrs. Gardiner, may I introduce my sister, Georgiana. Mrs. Gardiner is Miss Bennet's aunt."

Georgiana tore her gaze away from the bed, glad of the distraction, and forced herself to concentrate on her brother and their guest.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Gardiner," she said shyly, glancing at her out of soft dark eyes.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Darcy," said Mrs. Gardiner with a kindly smile. "Your brother speaks most highly of you."

Georgiana blushed and smiled, warming instantly to this new acquaintance. "My brother delights in embarrassing me, Mrs. Gardiner."

Darcy gave a soft snort. "My sister has learned something in her visits with..." Abruptly he stopped, and his face coloured. He dropped his gaze, and would not speak. Georgiana shot him a remorseful look, and reached for his good hand. "I am sorry, William," she said earnestly, glancing at the bed. "I did not mean to remind you..."

"No, no," he said quietly, squeezing her hand. "It is not your fault. Georgiana spent some time with us in Hertfordshire a month ago, Mrs. Gardiner. I introduced her to your niece there."

"My brother is a very thoughtful man," said Georgiana softly. "I am not easy in company, you see, and he was hoping that Miss Bennet's influence..."

"I understand perfectly," Mrs. Gardiner assured her. "With a bit of luck, you will soon have further opportunity to improve your liveliness under Elizabeth's tutelage. Only take care that she does not lead you astray, into bad habits." Mrs. Gardiner smiled at the anxious girl, trying to lighten her mood.

"Surely she would not!" said Georgiana earnestly.

"Miss Darcy will not be climbing trees or biting people, madam. I will see to it," said Darcy, and his eyes glinted with humour. "You must excuse us now, Mrs. Gardiner; we cannot stay, for the guests I was expecting have arrived. Forgive our intrusion, I felt that my sister should have a little advance warning."

"You may intrude into your own rooms whenever you please, Mr. Darcy, as you are well aware." Mrs. Gardiner replied.

"If I could, I would not leave them at present," said Darcy seriously. "I am most thankful that you stayed, Mrs. Gardiner. You ease my mind greatly. We will be having tea together in the drawing room shortly - I would be most pleased if you could join us - though I will understand if you prefer not to."

"I would be happy to, sir. Let me call for a servant to watch Lizzy, and I will join you directly."

Darcy bowed to her, gratitude in his eyes, and taking Georgiana's arm, he moved to the door. As they left Mrs. Gardiner could hear Miss Darcy's soft voice saying, "What did you mean, biting people?" and Mr. Darcy's low laugh in reply. Mrs. Gardiner reflected, with a bittersweet happiness, that her niece was a very lucky woman to have won the affection and love of such a delightful pair.

The company gathered in the drawing room for tea and cake. Miss Bingley had nearly fainted with distress over Mr. Darcy's hand, but on his adamant refusal to reveal all that instant, had been forced to give up and sit with her sister. She and Mrs. Hurst were much engaged gossiping together; Mr. Hurst was eating cake, and the rest were not saying much. Bingley kept glancing over at Darcy, worry plain on his honest face. Darcy was waiting for Mrs. Gardiner to arrive before he revealed anything; somehow, her presence lent him fortitude. In truth, she reminded him not a little of his late mother. Fortunately he did not have to wait long before her serene countenance could be seen coming through the doorway. What conversation there was halted, and Darcy stood.

"Now is the perfect moment to tell you all that we have two other guests staying at Pemberley. May I present my good friend, Mrs. Gardiner." Darcy bowed in her direction, as did Bingley, who smiled warmly as well. "Mrs. Gardiner, allow me to introduce my old friend Charles Bingley; his sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst; and Mr. Hurst. My sister you have met."

Mrs. Gardiner greeted them all with a gracious smile, especially Bingley, of whom she had heard so much. Her gaze lingered strangely on Caroline Bingley, but she said nothing beyond the usual courtesies of introduction. Oh! Darcy realised, watching Miss Bingley's almost shamefaced behaviour. They have met before, when Jane was in London! But Mrs. Gardiner is a gem; she makes no mention, to avoid embarrassment.

"Mrs. Gardiner," said Mrs. Hurst with every appearance of civility, while her sister collected herself. "How lovely to meet you at last. I have heard so much about you from your charming niece, Miss Bennet."

"The pleasure is mutual, I'm sure," Mrs. Gardiner replied. Neither sister noticed the sardonic sparkle in her eye, though Darcy did, and smirked. "I am staying here with another of my nieces, Elizabeth. I believe you know her also?"

"Oh, dear Miss Eliza!" gushed Miss Bingley. "Yes, we are quite well acquainted with her. Such a pleasant girl. But what brings you both to Pemberley, Mrs. Gardiner?"

Darcy stepped in, interrupting. "They were touring Derbyshire with Mr. Gardiner, and met me yesterday, when I arrived unexpectedly."

"And will Miss Bennet be joining us this afternoon? Or is she out walking?" said Mrs. Hurst, with a significant glance at Miss Bingley.

"She will not be joining us," said Darcy gravely. "Yesterday she met with a most dreadful accident, and is currently upstairs in bed. There is a chance she may not recover."

A silence fell over the room; then Bingley, clearly upset, burst out: "What do you mean, Darcy? What has happened? Is she ill?"

"No," said Darcy. "She is injured."

"For God's sake, man," said Bingley, frustrated. "Tell us what is going on. Is that how you hurt your hand?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes; and if you will all sit down, I will give you a brief account of our misadventure, if Mrs. Gardiner will permit me."

"Of course, Mr. Darcy," that lady nodded.

The company seated themselves. Even Hurst looked at Darcy with interest, and had stopped eating.

Darcy cast a sombre eye over his audience, let out a sigh, and began. "Yesterday, as you are aware, I left you all early and came home to finish some urgent business. To my surprise and theirs, I arrived to find Miss Bennet and her aunt and uncle, who had just completed a tour of the house. I invited them to walk by the lake with me; you know the path, Bingley, the one through the woods. Miss Bennet was walking with me when we were accosted by an armed ruffian, intent on mayhem. He threatened Miss Bennet's life with a pistol."

"Good God!" said Bingley. "What did you do?" Shock registered on all their faces.

"I could do nothing, with Miss Bennet in such direct peril. But the villain underestimated her courage. She waited for his concentration to lapse, then attacked him, giving me the perfect opportunity to act while he was distracted. I knocked him down; but she was not so lucky. His gun discharged, and she was shot."

"Shot!" cried Bingley, horrified. He sprang to his feet in agitation.

"I say!" said Mr. Hurst quietly, admiration in his tone. It seemed his respect for Miss Bennet had just elevated by several factors.

The others did not speak. Georgiana and Mrs. Gardiner knew the story already; and Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst could only gape at each other, faces pale.

"Shot," said Bingley again, upset. "This is perfectly dreadful, Darcy. No wonder you look so terrible. And she may not survive, you say?"

"It is a head wound, Bingley. The bullet did not penetrate the skull, but there may be a fracture. She is unconscious."

Bingley sat down again, highly disturbed. "And her family? Do they know?"

Mrs. Gardiner answered him. "My husband left for Longbourn this morning, sir. Her father, at least, may be expected tomorrow or the next day; Mr. Bennet and Lizzy were always very close."

Nothing more was said for some moments; then Mr. Darcy said, "If you will excuse us for a brief time, I must go upstairs and check on Miss Bennet. Georgiana and Mrs. Gardiner, will you come?" The ladies rose willingly, and Bingley did also.

"Could I...that is, would you mind terribly if I accompanied you?"

"Not at all, Bingley," said Darcy approvingly. The four of them left the room and headed upstairs, leaving the Hursts and Miss Bingley in shocked silence.

Dinner that evening was a subdued affair. Even the normally affable Bingley was mostly silent. Both Mr. Darcy and his sister were considerably distracted and upset, and made no conversation. Mrs. Gardiner endeavoured to speak with the other ladies, but such a pall had been cast over the meal that no speech could long survive in it; all attempts withered away, and were eventually given up. After eating, Mrs. Gardiner excused herself and returned to Elizabeth's sickroom, accompanied by Georgiana. Darcy watched them go; Bingley stood, eyeing his friend anxiously.

"Come, Darcy, what about a game of billiards?"

"I cannot," said Darcy; and he rose, and began pacing the room.

Miss Bingley watched him closely, but said nothing.

"Well I'm for billiards, even if Darcy isn't," said Hurst. "What do you say, Bingley."

Bingley, dissatisfied, began to object, but Darcy gainsaid him.

"Yes, go on, Bingley. Please do not concern yourself."

Hurst all but dragged Bingley out the door, leaving Darcy with the two remaining ladies.

"You must excuse my abominable manners," he addressed them. "I fear I am not good company tonight."

"Do not distress yourself, Mr. Darcy," said Mrs. Hurst. "It is all very understandable. How shocking it must have been; and now to have a friend so ill beneath your own roof."

"Indeed," chimed in Miss Bingley, "We are not insensitive, sir. We too feel absolutely appalled."

"You go upstairs, and don't worry about us. Caroline and I are quite well able to amuse ourselves," Mrs. Hurst smiled, though her sister's eyes narrowed faintly at the suggestion. "Of course you are worried, and we wouldn't dream of detaining you."

Darcy thanked them soberly, bowed, and left the room at a hurried pace.

"Why ever did you say such a thing, Louisa?" demanded Miss Bingley as soon as his footsteps had faded.

"Say what, my dear?" said Mrs. Hurst vaguely.

"To encourage Mr. Darcy like that!" frowned her sister. "Can't you see, you are playing right into her hands."

"Whose hands, Caroline?" Mrs. Hurst looked at Miss Bingley in some confusion.

"Eliza Bennet's, of course!" hissed Miss Bingley. "She is so determined to gain Mr. Darcy's attention that she lies about upstairs, pretending to be injured."

"But Caroline," said her sister, astounded, "She was shot in the head!"

"Oh yes - but it was only a graze!" Miss Bingley retorted. "Don't imagine for a minute that her life is in any serious danger, Louisa. I am sure it is all show! Or mostly, anyway."

Mrs. Hurst could only stare. "Are you feeling all right, dear? You look a little - strange."

"I am in perfect health," said Miss Bingley crisply. "And if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

Chapter 35

Still No Change

Dr. Maxwell called at eleven the next morning. Darcy welcomed him with relief; there had been no change in Elizabeth's condition, and he was becoming more and more anxious. He ushered the elderly physician upstairs immediately.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who were just completing their breakfast, watched the two men as they passed the breakfast-room door. Darcy glanced at them as he strode by, and nodded a greeting. As he reached the top of the staircase he halted, frowning, and let the doctor go on without him; something in Miss Bingley's expression was making him uneasy. Why should she be displaying such hostility? Quietly, he descended the stairs, and keeping to the carpet made his way to the breakfast-room door.

"There, you see?" Mrs. Hurst was saying. "The doctor has seen her twice already, and this is the third time. I really do not think she could be faking."

"You underestimate Miss Bennet's resources," said Caroline Bingley in a low voice. "She has them all running about the place for her. She is not stupid - though she is clearly desperate."

Outside the door, Darcy closed his eyes and leaned his head on the wall. He forced himself to breathe slowly in order to control his anger; then he straightened his shoulders and walked into the room.

"Oh! Mr. Darcy!" exclaimed Miss Bingley uncomfortably. "We did not see you there, sir."

"Of course you did not," said Darcy coldly. "I think it is time you came upstairs."

"Why, certainly," smiled Mrs. Hurst, elbowing Miss Bingley. "Come, Caroline. You can finish your coffee later."

"Of course," said Miss Bingley, trying to keep her composure. She glanced at Darcy's face, and was shocked at the anger she saw in his eyes. Abashed, she rose and followed her sister quietly.

Georgiana and Mr. Bingley were talking softly together in Darcy's sitting room, outside his bedchambers. They looked up in surprise at the approach of the three visitors, one of whom had an extremely stern expression on his face. Without a word he opened the dressing room door and ushered the two ladies inside; Georgiana and Bingley exchanged a look.

Mrs. Gardiner answered Darcy's knock, and opened the door wide.

"Mr. Darcy! And Miss Bingley - Mrs. Hurst," she stood aside graciously. "Dr. Maxwell is almost finished. I am afraid nothing has changed."

The two ladies paled as Darcy propelled them forward towards the bed. Elizabeth's head was being rebandaged, and they caught a glimpse of her injury before the doctor covered it with a clean dressing. A servant was holding her in position, as she was clearly unable to do so herself. Her face was still white apart from the deep bruising around her left eye; her breathing was shallow and very slow.

"She looks awful!" blurted Miss Bingley, aghast. She realised she had spoken aloud and her cheeks reddened as she glanced over at Mrs. Gardiner, who was watching her strangely. "Poor Eliza!" she moaned, attempting to recover from her gaffe. "This is most distressing, Mrs. Gardiner. How terrible you must be feeling."

"Yes," said Mrs. Gardiner calmly.

"She has not awakened since the accident?" said Mrs. Hurst, a modicum of real concern in her tone.

"She has not stirred," came Darcy's disapproving voice. "I hope, Miss Bingley, that matters are now clearer."

"Oh! Quite." said Miss Bingley uncomfortably.

"Perhaps you would like to go and finish your coffee now," suggested Darcy in a tone that brooked no contradiction.

"You are too kind, sir," said Mrs. Hurst. "Our sincere sympathies, Mrs. Gardiner; we hope your niece shall soon recover." She gave her sister a stern look, at which Miss Bingley mumbled a similar sentiment; then she took Miss Bingley's elbow and led her to the door.

Once back in the privacy of the breakfast-room (after having checked outside the door) the two sisters sat shakily at the window seat.

"Honestly, Caroline, you have gone too far this time!" scolded Mrs. Hurst. "What must Mr. Darcy think of us now? Or more particularly, of you!"

Miss Bingley looked ashamed, and would not meet her sister's eye or make her any reply.

"I really think you ought to give up your pursuit," said Mrs. Hurst, still angry. "Just accept that he loves her and be done. You should be attempting to gain their favour now, not estrange yourself through foolish spite."

"Oh, Louisa," Miss Bingley moaned in a despairing tone. "I have done something very foolish indeed, and I cannot undo it."

Mrs. Hurst softened a little at this evidence of remorse. "There, there," she said, touching Miss Bingley's shoulder. "Darcy will forgive you; and Elizabeth need never know! For Charles' sake if nothing else you will still be welcome at Pemberley."

"No, that is not what I mean," cried Miss Bingley, tears forming in her eyes as she related to her sister her activities of the previous evening...

Mrs. Hurst listened, eyes widening in horror, to her sister's confession.

Another cheerless evening passed at Pemberley. Miss Bingley did not attend dinner, having declared herself unwell and sequestered herself in her rooms. Some attempt was made, at Hurst's insistence, to play at cards afterward; but the game mostly seemed to consist of him complaining at everyone else's inattention. In the end, Mrs. Hurst decided to go and check on her sister; Hurst went by himself to the billiards room; and the others retired to Darcy's sitting room upstairs, so that they could be closer to Elizabeth. With the uneasier elements removed from their company, they had as pleasant a time as may be had under such circumstances. Darcy spoke not at all, but no one chided him for it, until Bingley grew exasperated with his bouts of pacing and sent him in to sit by Elizabeth's bedside. The others satisfied themselves with quiet conversation, and were surprised to find the lateness of the hour when at last they wearied of it. Darcy insisted on remaining at Elizabeth's side all night, to allow Mrs. Gardiner time to get some proper rest; he awoke in his chair the next morning with a stiff neck and an ironic smile. He had always imagined that his first night spent in the same room with Elizabeth would have been a little different...

The following morning brought no changes, either for the good or the bad. Miss Bingley was still keeping to herself, which her brother began to wonder at. At first he had thought this to be yet another ploy to gain Darcy's attention - but had that been the case, surely she would have been parading about complaining of her ills before now. Bingley frowned, wondering what she was up to. Louisa, when questioned, would say nothing of any use; though, oddly, she looked a little embarrassed.

Mid-afternoon brought a carriage rattling to the front of the house, gravel spraying from under the horses' hooves as they struggled to reduce speed. A tired-looking Darcy greeted the two visitors in the foyer with all the warmth he could muster. Mr. Bennet, his face drawn and anxious, was relieved to hear that his daughter's condition had at least not deteriorated, and asked to see her at once.

"Of course," said Darcy, gesturing toward the stairs. "And you, Miss Bennet?"

"Please," she said, her troubled gaze regaining a measure of its usual serenity and good humour, "Call me Jane."

A smile tugged at one corner of Darcy's mouth. "Bingley is upstairs. I daresay he will be pleased to see you both."

"Come now, Darcy," said Mr. Bennet, as they made their weary way upstairs. "You are too diplomatic - I have no doubt that paying his respects to his father-in-law elect will be the furthest thing from that young fellow's mind when he sees who I have brought with me!"

"Papa!" Jane scolded gently, her blue eyes betraying no irritation whatsoever, only amusement.

Bingley and Georgiana rose to meet Mr. Bennet, whom they had heard approaching the sitting room as his voice echoed down the hallway. When the door opened to reveal Jane as well as her father, Bingley beamed in joyous astonishment, and rushed forward to kiss her hands.

"There," said Mr. Bennet to his host, feigning pique. "What did I tell you?"

But a warm handshake from the gentleman in question and a most courteous and affectionate greeting from Georgiana soon put a twinkle in the old man's eye, if only for a brief period.

"But you are not here to chatter away with us," Bingley reminded Mr. Bennet, his honest features broadcasting his regret and sympathy. "She is through here."

The others stood back as Jane and her father were ushered into Darcy's bedroom. Mrs. Gardiner did not get up to welcome them; she had fallen asleep in Darcy's favourite chair. Mr. Bennet watched silently for a moment; one of Elizabeth's pale hands was loosely clasped on his sister's knee. Jane let out a soft cry, and went to them both, seating herself on the bed.

"Oh Lizzy!" she whispered, taking her sister's hand from Mrs. Gardiner's. She kissed it, and her shoulders began to shake. Mrs. Gardiner stirred at the unfamiliar sounds and opened her eyes, looking around in some confusion before she realised who was there.

"Jane!" she exclaimed, and sat forward to embrace her weeping niece. "Jane, when did you get here?"

"Just now, with me," said Mr. Bennet, approaching her from behind.

Darcy saw Mrs. Gardiner's eyes light up and fill with tears. She extended a hand, which Mr. Bennet pressed between both his own.

"Oh, Andrew, I am so glad to see you," said Mrs. Gardiner feelingly.

"Indeed!" sighed Mr. Bennet, lifting her hand to his lips, then bending to kiss her cheek. "I cannot thank you enough for staying with her, Madeline."

"Nonsense! You know I could not have done otherwise - Lizzy is as dear to me as any of my own children."

Jane had almost stopped weeping, and reached up to hold the hand that her father had laid on her shoulder.

"Come, Jane - it would be a fine show if Lizzy should awaken to see you so heartbroken."

Jane managed a laugh through her sniffles. "I am sorry, Papa. I was so determined to be brave, and not let it affect me..."

"Now, now, my love," said her father gently. "There is nothing to be ashamed of. Cry all you want - perhaps she will wake up to upbraid you for disturbing her rest."

Jane smiled through her tears. "If that would be effective, perhaps you should have brought Lydia or Kitty instead."

Mrs. Gardiner laughed, and wiped a tear off Jane's cheek. "No, I think your father knew exactly who to bring, my dear."

Darcy watched this banter silently, almost enviously, from his post near the door. Not for the first time, he realised how much such openness was worth. To have a mother such as Mrs. Bennet, and sisters such as Kitty and Lydia and Mary...A price worth paying ten times over, if only Elizabeth could be his.

That evening proved a little livelier than the one before. Mr. Bennet, faced with so many sources of inspiration, amused himself by poking gentle fun at the Hursts and Miss Bingley, who had emerged from her self-imposed exile apparently none the worse. Darcy found a certain mild pleasure in the fact that none of them seemed particularly aware of Mr. Bennet's motivations - and that as a result Mrs. Gardiner, for the first time since Elizabeth's accident, had regained something of the good-humoured sparkle that had previously graced her expression. Darcy noticed Mr. Bennet give his sister-in-law the occasional satisfied glance, and knew that such had been part of the old man's intention.

When the meal ended, Bingley suggested that Darcy and Mr. Bennet go upstairs to keep vigil, while the rest of them had some music and conversation. The two gentlemen acceded readily to the notion, and soon made themselves scarce; Bingley, Jane and Mrs. Gardiner then began a pleasant exchange. Mrs. Hurst ventured the occasional comment, as did Georgiana - but Miss Bingley remained uncharacteristically quiet.

For a good while all was quiet in the sickroom as well. Mr. Bennet did not seemed inclined to speak, being satisfied to hold Elizabeth's limp hand and watch her bruised face - while his own reflected his troubled mind. His thoughts were clearly much affecting him, so Darcy remained silent in the chair across the room, allowing Mr. Bennet time to come to terms with his feelings.

Finally Mr. Bennet seemed to gather himself; while still retaining his hold on Elizabeth's hand, he sat up a little straighter, sniffed, let out a sigh, and turned a sad eye on Darcy.

"Well, well," he began, a sardonic smile playing around his mouth. "What a time you have had of it, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy did not quite know how to reply, so he simply agreed. Silence fell for a moment, then Mr. Bennet pressed on.

"My brother Gardiner gave me reason to believe that you and Lizzy had - er - reached an understanding at last."

Darcy cleared his throat. "We have, sir. Unfortunately we were, um, interrupted before things could be formally agreed on - but when Elizabeth wakes you may be assured that such will not long remain the case."

Mr. Bennet nodded slowly, and his gaze drifted back to his daughter. "Then she, has - er..." He waved his free hand ineffectually.

Darcy looked compassionately on the older man. A little inarticulately, he tried to ease his future father's pain. "I believe you have known for some time how I feel about your daughter, sir. It was not until the day of the accident that I finally learned that she - returned my affections. But anyone who knows your family knows that you, Mr. Bennet, will forever hold a place in Lizzy's heart that no one else can fill."

Mr. Bennet sighed, and squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "Forgive an old man his follies, Mr. Darcy. One way or another, I will lose her, I know." He glanced over at the tall, dark figure he had come to know and respect. "But if I lose her to her own happiness, then I can call myself blessed."

Darcy looked away, but his eyes shone wetly in the dim candlelight as he thought on the bittersweet realities of fatherhood that would someday be his own - God willing.

That night was the fourth of Elizabeth's absence of spirit. Her father sat, unable to find rest, by her side. For a while Jane kept him and Darcy company, but finally Bingley entered the room and insisted on her taking some rest. Darcy, by this time, was fast asleep in his chair, and Bingley was of a mind to wake him and drag him away to a bed; but Mr. Bennet shook his grey head.

"Let him be, Bingley. Think how you would feel yourself, in such a situation."

Bingley's earnest gaze fell on Jane, who blushed at the intensity of his regard. The young man cleared his throat quietly, and nodded. "Yes, sir, I believe you are right. Well, we shall see you in the morning I daresay. I bid you good night."

Mr. Bennet watched the two depart, then got to his feet and walked about the room, all the while glancing anxiously at the still form on the bed. From a distance, one could not even perceive the faint rise and fall that marked her shallow breathing. The flickering candles caused ominous shadows to curl about her face, and for a moment Mr. Bennet let every morbid fantasy that had been clamouring at the windows of his imagination full reign. Tears pricked at his eyes as he watched his beloved child. How still she lies - how corpse-like.

At that moment Darcy stirred in his sleep, speaking the incomprehensible thoughts of the dreamer. The sounds of his own garbled speech disturbed him, and he woke, suddenly wide-eyed. With a start he realised where he was, and his eyes went first to the bed, and then to Mr. Bennet's chair, which was empty.

"I am still here, young fellow," came the older man's voice from the back of the room. "Just stretching my legs."

Darcy leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his neck. "I was dreaming..."

"Not a happy dream?"

"No," said Darcy, rubbing at his face. "Not pleasant."

Mr. Bennet sighed, and returned to his chair. "Then you had better have some conversation, to clear your head. It doesn't do to dwell on such things."

"Yes, you are right," said Darcy with some reluctance, "But I have not the heart to speak, I fear."

"Luckily for you, all you will need is the patience to listen to an old man's ramblings. I believe I can find a topic that will hold your interest."

So Mr. Bennet began to speak of something that had been weighing heavily on his mind - Elizabeth, and his memories of her childhood. He related scrapes and adventures, her problems with her mother and sisters, his own failures and successes as a father. He span nostalgic reminiscences, entertaining anecdotes, and the harsher visions afforded by hindsight - usually applied to his own role in matters, but all delivered with the dry Bennet wit. Darcy was captivated, occasionally laughing aloud; the story of the frog in the bonnet had him almost falling out of his chair. But there were sadder tales, too, and he longed for Elizabeth to wake so that he could share them with her and comfort her. At length Mr. Bennet felt unburdened, and more at peace, and his voice faded away. Emboldened and touched by Mr. Bennet's openness, Darcy began to speak of his own childhood, his own parents. There was not so much laughter to be had from his stories. His parents had loved him dearly, but the manner of his upbringing could not have been further from that given to the Bennet children.

"Oh dear," said Mr. Bennet wryly when he had finished. "I can see that there will be interesting discussions in your house over how to raise the children."

Darcy grunted, amused. "I believe a compromise can be found that will satisfy both parties." This earned him an approving glance from Mr. Bennet, who was beginning to look rather bleary-eyed. An easy silence fell between the two gentlemen, and it was not long before heads nodded and breathing deepened. There were not many hours left until dawn, but they were spent in peace.

Chapter 36

Awake

Mrs. Gardiner woke them early the next morning. She had intended to force them to rest between sheets for a few hours at least, and was just about to nudge her brother-in-law's shoulder when a difference in Elizabeth's posture caught her eye. Her heart gave a jolt, and she looked up to see that one of her niece's hands was now above her head - and her eyes were open. She gave Mr. Bennet's shoulder a hard shake, and moved to sit on the side of the bed.

"Lizzy?" Her soft question elicited no response. "Lizzy, can you hear me?" She reached back to give Mr. Bennet another shake. "Andrew!" she hissed in an impatient whisper. "She's awake!"

Elizabeth's eyes, which had been fixed on the ceiling, slowly focussed in her aunt's direction. She swallowed and tried to speak, but all that came out was a rasp. Mr. Bennet gave a moan, and let out a confused complaint.

"For heaven's sake Andrew, open your eyes!" said Mrs. Gardiner urgently, while she leaned forward to take one of Elizabeth's hands. "Can you hear me, Lizzy?"

"Yes," came the rough response. Elizabeth coughed, and groaned in pain as her head complained at the spasm. "Where am I?"

"Oh, Lizzy!" cried Mrs. Gardiner, beaming and bursting into tears. "You had us so worried!"

"What! Is she awake? Why didn't you tell me?" came a querulous voice from behind, and Mr. Bennet leaned forward to put his hand over both of theirs. "Lizzy, my love!"

"Papa?" Elizabeth squinted at him, now thoroughly confused. "What happened?"

"Nothing, my dear, everything is fine now," came Aunt Gardiner's soothing voice, and she leaned forward to kiss Elizabeth's cheek. "I'll get you some water."

She stood and hurried to the other side of the bed, where Darcy was still snoring gently, while Mr. Bennet took her place at Elizabeth's side, kissing his daughter's hand and trying not to weep.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, Lizzy!" he scolded her, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"Papa, whatever is going on?" Elizabeth demanded, as testily as possible given her utter lack of energy.

"Forgive us, my love. You gave us a bit of a fright."

"I did?"

"Yes. You have been unconscious for four days, you know."

"Oh," she said weakly, eyes wandering in confusion as she tried to remember.

"Mr. Darcy!" said Mrs. Gardiner, leaning down to whisper into his ear. "Mr. Darcy. She's awake!"

Darcy's eyes shot open. "What?" He looked up into Mrs. Gardiner's face, and the joy in her eyes told him all he needed to know. "She's awake?"

Mrs. Gardiner rolled her eyes towards the bed, where Mr. Bennet was talking to a very muzzy-headed Elizabeth.

"What's the last thing you remember, my love?" he was asking in a reassuring tone. Elizabeth's eyes unfocussed for a moment, then regained their clarity.

"I was walking with Mr. Darcy...and Wickham came...Mr. Darcy! Is he hurt?"

"No!" Darcy assured her, tears forming in his eyes. "No, I am fine, Elizabeth."

She gave a small smile of relief when she heard his voice. "Where are you? I can't see you properly. Everything is blurred."

Mrs. Gardiner came back to the near side of the bed, and tugged gently at Mr. Bennet's sleeve. "Come, sir," she said softly. "Let us go and give the others the good news, and leave them to themselves for a brief while."

Mr. Bennet nodded. "A capital notion, my dear. Darcy, you sit over here - we shall go and inform the others."

Darcy knelt by the bed and kissed Elizabeth's hand. "Can you see me now?"

"Much better," she smiled. "Though you are still a bit runny around the edges."

"It will pass," said Darcy, hoping it would. "How do you feel?" He reached out his good hand and caressed her cheek. She winced, and he drew back hurriedly.

"No, it wasn't you," she objected reassuringly, humour sparkling in her sleepy dark eyes. "It was me - it hurts to smile, a bit."

He leaned over and placed the gentlest of kisses on her mouth. "Did that hurt?"

"Not at all, sir - but you are making me smile," she reprimanded him, smiling.

"I am sorry," he said, and could no longer restrain a sniff as he fumbled for his handkerchief.

"Fitzwilliam - what is the matter? Are you crying?"

"No," he lied, blowing his nose. Elizabeth raised a hand to his cheek, and felt the streaks of moisture there.

"Please don't cry," she said softly.

"Elizabeth," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You have no idea - I was so afraid that you would die; for days my fear has been that I would look up to see that you were not breathing anymore."

Elizabeth needed a moment to take this in. "William, you really had better tell me what happened, for you are starting to worry me now, and I am sure that cannot be right."

He nodded, torn between misery and joy, and told her of the accident.

"No wonder my head hurts!" she said quietly, eyes wide.

"Indeed!" Darcy agreed. "And now I insist that you tell me how you feel. The doctor will need to know, whether you are asleep or awake when he arrives."

"Very well," she acquiesced, a slight frown creasing her forehead as she pretended to think. "Hmmm, how do I feel... my head hurts."

"Elizabeth," Darcy gave her a genuine frown. "How much does it hurt?"

"Considerably, to own the truth," she confessed. "I am sleepy, and my vision is a little unclear, though it is already improving, so I dare say that is nothing to cause any concern."

"I am glad to see your spirits have not suffered any diminution, at any rate," said Darcy, looking at Elizabeth's lively expression with a great deal of relief. "Anything else, madam?"

"Why yes. I do believe I am a little hungry," she smiled. "And before you scold me further, I feel terribly weak and quite unable to stand."

"Good," declared Darcy, "Because you are not to stir from that bed for at least another week."

"What?" Elizabeth could not believe her ears.

"Miss Bennet, the doctor has given strict instructions that you are not to move for a full fortnight."

"No!" she protested. "It is only a headache, Fitzwilliam. I will be over it in a day or two, I am sure!"

"You will stay in that bed until Dr. Maxwell gives you leave to rise from it, Elizabeth," said Darcy in a tone that would admit no argument. Elizabeth subsided, as she really was feeling too tired to make an issue of it - but she determined within herself that she would get up as soon as she felt able, which would be soon, she knew.

Darcy saw her eyes wandering and her lids drooping, and pressed her hand with his. "We'll speak again later," he said gently. "Sleep now."

"I'm not...sleepy," said Elizabeth, her eyes closing even as she spoke. Within seconds she was deeply asleep; Darcy let out a heavy sigh, watching her chest rise and fall in the steady, slow rhythm of healthy slumber. He sat watching her closely for a few minutes. A little colour had returned to her cheeks, and that very slight animation that marks the difference between the sleeper and those near death. He recalled her voice, rough with disuse and slurry with sleep, and the look of pain that had crossed her face at times while they spoke. She had not really complained of it but she had been in noticeable discomfort. Admiration for her bravery filled his heart, and he made a mental note to ask Dr. Maxwell about some sort of medication to lessen the pain she felt.

She is going to be all right!

Darcy could not prevent a heartfelt smile from gracing his expression as he got to his feet. Bending, he kissed the tip of Elizabeth's nose, then quietly left the room to add his report to the intelligence already being circulated by Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner.

As it was, only Bingley and Jane had come downstairs early enough to benefit from the news. Darcy, looking scruffy and unshaven, was left in no doubt as to their feelings on the matter when he entered the breakfast room; Bingley could not stop grinning and prancing about excitedly, and Jane was so happy that she gave the embarrassed Darcy a hug and a kiss before she quite knew what she did. Mr. Bennet, who was at table drinking a cup of coffee, made no such demonstrations - but he insisted on knowing every detail of Elizabeth's condition up to the moment of Darcy's departure. Upon hearing what little Darcy had to add to his own knowledge, he subsided once more into his coffee-cup, with a very satisfied and relieved expression on his face.

"Where is Mrs. Gardiner?" Darcy enquired, curious.

"She has gone to see if your sister has arisen yet - she thought Miss Darcy might like to know the good news as soon as may be."

Darcy smiled. "An excellent thought, Georgiana will be overjoyed. She...admires Elizabeth greatly, you know."

"I know, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet glanced over with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "It appears to run in the family."

Bingley let out a guffaw, then looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry, Darcy," he muttered, clearly not in the least repentant. Darcy, in a good mood, smiled tolerantly and returned his attention to Mr. Bennet.

"And the doctor - has word been sent?"

"Oh! Yes," said Bingley, who had sent the message himself. "I sent one of the servants to fetch him not long ago. With a note, to make sure."

"One of your notes, Bingley?" Darcy raised an eyebrow, not knowing whether to feel amused or concerned.

"Well, no," said Bingley, with a wry smile. He glanced at Jane, who was seated nearby her fiancé, smirking. "Jane wrote the note. She insisted."

"And if she did not, I would have," observed Mr. Bennet.

"Your penmanship's reputation has preceded you, I see," smiled Darcy. "But thank you both for doing that. I am exceedingly obliged. And now, I believe I shall freshen up - and then eat breakfast, for my appetite seems to have returned!" He gave the three another smile, bowed, and was gone.

"What a cheery fellow he has turned out to be, after all!" remarked Mr. Bennet.

The mood at Pemberley was now as bright as it had previously been despondent. Dr. Maxwell arrived to find his patient still sleeping and the bedroom full of occupants eagerly waiting for her to stir. Apologetically, he declared his intention of turning them all out, and they quit the room on the understanding they be allowed to visit Elizabeth as soon as he had completed his examination, for she would by then, presumably, be thoroughly awake. Dr. Maxwell would not promise anything, and ushered them all out the door.

As things transpired, he could not have been happier with Elizabeth's condition. When woken, she proved cooperative and courteously-spoken. Her eyes were clear, her expression animated and her good humour evident, despite the obvious stiffness and pain that accompanied every slight movement of her head. She was able to respond rationally, if a little slowly, to all his enquiries. She did not, however, complain - which confirmed the doctor's impression of her general ill-health - complaining was, in his experience, one of the first signs of real recovery. Satisfied that she was, however, on her way back to the land of the living, he agreed that visitors would be allowed, but only on the understanding that every attempt be made to keep her calm and still. Quite firmly, he told Elizabeth that she was not to move from the bed for a further ten days, that she should sleep as much as possible, and that she was not to become worked up or upset over anything. At this Elizabeth rolled her eyes, causing one of the servants to barely stifle a snigger. She gave Elizabeth an approving glance as the young lady assured the good doctor that she would do her very best to comply, but that he had better speak to the others as well, as she could make no promises if circumstances beyond her control should prove overwhelming.

Dr. Maxwell raised a white eyebrow, his old eyes flashing with momentary humour. "Indeed, Miss Bennet," he allowed, nodding. "I shall do that very thing immediately. I believe everyone with whom I would need to speak is huddled outside the door at this very moment, waiting to see you - so I shall bid you adieu for now, young lady. Make sure you get plenty of rest, and don't let that young Darcy fellow pester you too much!" He patted Elizabeth's hand in a fatherly manner, and stood to leave.

The two servants, a middle-aged woman and a girl not much older than Elizabeth herself, remained behind to tidy up and make their charge comfortable.

Elizabeth regarded them a little muzzily. "Excuse me, but have you been looking after me the whole time?"

The middle-aged woman (it was she who had almost laughed at Elizabeth's eye-rolling) gave her a grin. "Sure, Miss. I hope you've no complaints!"

"No," Elizabeth assured her, smiling despite herself. "I only wanted to thank you for it. If I have to be a burden, I had better be a polite one."

"Hm!" The older woman shot the patient a wry look. "Well, you just stay the same trouble you've been - which is, none at all, and we'll get along fine."

The younger servant was giving her companion mortified looks as they worked; the elder glanced over at her and laughed.

"Don't you be worrying about Miss Bennet, young Robbie," the woman mock-scolded her companion. "She's a sense a humour too, same as you or me. A young lass needs a bit of cheer if she's to recover from such a nasty knock."

Elizabeth could not restrain a smile, though it hurt. "I believe," she said quietly, though not without spirit, "That you have both seen enough of me to call me Lizzy."

The middle-aged woman leaned closer to the bedside. "This here's young Robbie," she confided warmly, "And I'm Mrs. Linnehan - but you can call me Kate." With gusto, she stuffed the last soiled towel into the laundry hamper, and seizing the basket, she and the young girl made their way to the door. "Now don't you get out of that bed, Miss Lizzy. We'll be back to check on you later, or sooner if we're needed."

With a wink from Mrs. Linnehan and a shy glance from Robbie, the two were out the door; and no sooner had it closed than it opened again to admit the first eager visitor - Jane.

The next half an hour was taken up with a series of poignant reunions the like of which Mr. Darcy's bedroom had never before seen. Although all had been firmly impressed with the need to keep the patient calm and restful, there were tears and laughter aplenty as Elizabeth's beloved relatives (and almost-relatives) made known their relief at her escape from under the dread portal. Elizabeth herself, of course, did not feel the moment nearly as intensely as did her visitors; but she was quite exhausted by just the proximity of so much emotion in those she loved. She could not help but feel for them as they wept, or pressed her hand repeatedly, or merely gazed at her with steadfast devotion and gratitude. Drained by the experience, she could not muster any ill-feeling at all when her last callers entered the room, faces she had never before been glad to see - the Hursts, and Miss Bingley.

Mrs. Hurst was all graciousness, and indeed seemed quite genuine in her wishes for Elizabeth's swift recovery. Mr. Hurst said not a word, preferring to hover near the door and leave the talking to his wife, giving Elizabeth only the occasional curious glance. Miss Bingley, however, seemed most odd. Her manner was restrained, her sentiments proper - yet Elizabeth received a distinct impression of apology, even humility, in her unsteady gaze. But she was far too weary to think on the matter; as soon as the small group had paid their parting respects Elizabeth was fast asleep, even before they had left the room. She did not see the thoughtful, regretful look that came over Caroline Bingley's face as she waited for her brother-in-law to clear the doorway.

Chapter 37

Condescension

Elizabeth slept the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon away; she was awake for a little while in the late afternoon, then slept again for an hour or two, awakening at mid-evening to complain of hunger. The servants, who had been painstakingly dripping water down her throat on a regular basis for the past few days, were quite prepared to assist her with a meal of bread dipped in broth, but Mrs. Gardiner insisted on doing the honours herself. Elizabeth bore the indignity of having to be helped with eating with her customary good humour, just as she had borne all the other indignities incumbent on the bedridden. Indeed, her first repast in some time was accompanied by quite a lot of giggling on the part of both patient and spoonfeeder. Darcy, who was sitting quietly outside the sickroom, could hear the antics from within quite clearly, as Mrs. Gardiner had left the door ajar. He found himself struck by an intense pang of jealousy, and a deep frown crossed his features at the thought of how much had been disrupted by George Wickham's desperate actions.

Wishing to dispel his resentment with activity, he rose from his seat and was striding for the door when he almost collided with Mrs. Gardiner, who had emerged without warning from the bedchamber.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Darcy - Forgive me, I had not thought anyone was in here."

"No...I...er..." stammered Darcy, his roiling emotions rendering him even less articulate than usual.

"I am just returning this tray to the kitchen," Mrs. Gardiner declared warmly. "Would you like to sit with Elizabeth until I return?"

Darcy wanted to protest at her taking the menial tasks of a servant upon herself, but the chance to sit alone with Elizabeth quite dissipated all his worries about propriety. Still tongue-tied, he must have managed to mutter some sort of assent, for Mrs. Gardiner smiled approvingly and left the room.

Quietly, Darcy stepped into his bedchamber, his eyes fixing immediately on the figure in his bed. Her eyes were open, and she smiled a welcome at his almost apologetic entrance.

"Why, Mr. Darcy," she said, an impudent glint in her eye. "Is it quite proper for a gentleman to visit a lady in her bed?"

A smile tugged at Darcy's lips, and all the dark feelings that had engulfed him fell away like mist before the sun.

"When the lady is in the gentleman's bed, perhaps an exception may be made," he replied, delighting in her low laughter at his response. He moved to the bedside and sat, rather heavily, in the comfortable old chair close to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, taking her hand and caressing it lightly with his thumb.

"Much better," she said lightly. Her eyelids drifted down, and a small smile of contentment lifted the corners of her mouth as Darcy continued his gentle massage of her hand. "Especially if you keep doing that..." she murmured.

"You will not become overexcited or upset? The doctor was quite clear on that point."

"Not at all, I assure you," she said, her smile widening, though her eyes remained closed. "Quite the contrary."

"You are falling asleep? Then I must stop," he declared, doing so.

Elizabeth's eyes opened, regarding him with warmth. "I am in no danger of falling asleep. I was simply relaxing, which is said to be good for my health, unlike arguing, which is what I shall shortly be doing if you do not resume rubbing my hand at once."

Darcy chuckled appreciatively and reached for her other hand as well, which she willingly gave him.

"Never let it be said that I would do anything to impede your recovery," he stated dryly, "Though it has come to my attention that you are a very demanding invalid."

"I am not demanding in the least. I am only asking. You are of course free to refuse," Elizabeth said airily.

"Of course," said he, with a lift of his eyebrows. Seeing as no further argument seemed to be forthcoming, Elizabeth allowed her eyes to close once more. Darcy watched her carefully as her hands became completely limp in his grasp; it was not long before her breathing slowed and the soft calling of her name garnered no response. Gingerly, Darcy replaced her hands and tucked the covers around her, then leaned back in his chair and waited silently for Mrs. Gardiner to arrive.

Elizabeth did not reawaken until the next morning, but to everyone's delight she was able to remain alert for almost three hours of lively conversation before succumbing once more to exhaustion. Confident that she would sleep for several hours, Darcy, Bingley and Hurst decided to go out into the park on a brief shooting expedition; Mr. Bennet found solace in the library, Jane, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley decided on a walk in the gardens, and Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana withdrew to the music room. So it was that Lady Catherine De Bourgh's unannounced and unexpected arrival also went largely unnoticed, except by two well-meaning but unfortunate manservants, who were soon browbeaten into submission and forced to reveal the whereabouts of the "infamous Miss Bennet".

Lady Catherine, in high dudgeon, made her way upstairs in a great state, trailed anxiously by one of the underbutlers, for whom she would not wait. Servants engaged in their tasks either peered curiously about or made themselves even less conspicuous; one of these was the young Roberta Hayward, who had the presence of mind to go and inform Mrs. Reynolds of the impending disaster.

Elizabeth was so deeply asleep that the resounding complaints foreshadowing the imminent arrival of her Ladyship made no impact; even as Lady Catherine burst into the bedchamber, trembling with righteous indignation, the sleeper did not stir.

"Miss Bennet!" cried Lady Catherine. When she received no response, she stepped forward angrily. The proximity revealed more clearly Elizabeth's pallor, the fading bruises and swelling on her face, and of course the thick bandages swathing her forehead. Lady Catherine frowned, given pause for a moment; but recollection of the letter's other contents soon restored her pique, and she leaned in closely.

"Miss Bennet!" she demanded loudly, almost in Elizabeth's face. "Miss Bennet, I insist that you hear me this instant!"

At this, Elizabeth stirred, and Lady Catherine drew back in satisfaction. The young lady's eyes, dull with weariness, fluttered open and focussed on the visitor with difficulty and some confusion.

Am I dreaming? Elizabeth thought, frowning at the improbable sight that met her eyes.

"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither," declaimed the Lady, to Elizabeth's utter incomprehension. Still unable to determine whether she was in fact awake, Elizabeth made no reply, but only lay there blinking.

"Well? Have you nothing to say?"

Dumbfounded, Elizabeth mustered her wits as best she could. "Forgive me, Madam, you are mistaken - I have not the slightest notion to account for the honour of seeing you here."

Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. "Miss Bennet," she proclaimed angrily, "You ought to know I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, have had the unmitigated effrontery to aspire to a most inappropriate match - a match with my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth's cheeks coloured with anger and astonishment; but before she could make a reply, the bedchamber door opened and her father hastened in.

"Ah, you must be Lady Catherine De Bourgh, of whom I have heard so much," said Mr. Bennet heartily. "How delightful to meet you at last - allow me to introduce myself: Mr. Andrew Bennet, forever at your service, Madam, and the father of this unfortunate young lady."

Lady Catherine, taken aback, directed a withering stare at the intruder. To her very great astonishment, he ignored it and continued speaking.

"I must apologise, Lady Catherine; for while we are only too conscious of the very great honour afforded us by your condescension in coming so far to visit my daughter, I must insist that she be allowed her rest. The doctor was quite adamant that any visits be of brief duration, and that under no circumstances should she be exposed to, erm, conditions of excitement, such as would naturally be experienced in entertaining such a noble guest as yourself."

"Mr. Bennet, am I to understand - " began the simmering Lady Catherine.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," interjected Mr. Bennet firmly, moving to stand between Lady Catherine and Elizabeth. "You are of course aware of the severity of my daughter's injuries, and the absolute necessity of complete rest if she is to recover. Your Ladyship is a most generous and considerate soul indeed; I must agree completely, now would be the perfect time to allow Elizabeth some more, um, opportunity to heal. I believe a cup of tea is in order; shall we?"

Reminded so amiably of her manners, Lady Catherine could see no way to refuse Mr. Bennet's suggestion without appearing completely callous; raising her nose, she acquiesced, and made her way to the door with a dignified air.

"Goodbye, Miss Bennet," she said stiffly, on leaving. "We shall speak again at a later time."

Elizabeth relaxed back into her pillows with a sigh as silence returned to fill the room. She stared fixedly at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Gratitude for her father's intervention filled her; her heart was still pounding with indignation and shock, and the pressure in her head in response to her heightened pulse rate was highly unpleasant, to say the least. She drew a deep breath and held it, closing her eyes and counting as she attempted to calm herself.

Come now Lizzy - you never expected her to approve, she told herself reasonably. But nor did you expect to meet with her disapproval quite so quickly...or decidedly.

She was still puzzling over Lady Catherine's appearance when, without warning, a black fog rose in her mind and swallowed her up...

Continued in Next Section