Posted on: 2008-11-19

Chapter 15

The next time Elizabeth awoke, she struggled against the weight on her chest, fearing that the squalid cottage from her nightmares had overwhelmed her. Georgiana’s lilting voice soon alleviated her fears. Doctor Blatchford was leaning over her. She blinked in confusion as he reapplied the ear trumpet to her chest.

He gently held the fabric of her nightdress taut, “If you please, Miss Bennet, take a deep breath,” he listened through the device, “and let it out.” He straightened up and pronounced her to be much better.

“What else may I do to provide relief?” Georgiana asked, tucking the quilt back up under Elizabeth’s chin.

Doctor Blatchford smiled at the young women as he packed up his case, “I prescribe relaxation for you both. Try to get as much rest as possible. Tomorrow, some fresh air would do you both good. A turn in the shrubbery near the stables would be most beneficial.”

Elizabeth sipped the mulled wine, which Lucy had carried over. It tasted a little bitter, but it soothed her parched throat. She thanked them all for their assistance, but her head felt so heavy that she barely had time to mumble a few more words before she was asleep once more.

“It is for the best,” the physician told Darcy, who had been pacing the corridor, “Hopefully, Miss Bennet’s recovery from her ordeal will not be too delayed by her sister’s loss. That last dose of laudanum should last through the night.”

“She asked after you, Will,” Georgiana told him as soon as they had farewelled Doctor Blatchford, “It would not be improper for us to both go and sit with her.”

Darcy gratefully nodded and was soon pulling up another chair beside Elizabeth’s bed. “What did she say?” he asked curiously, reaching out to take his fiancé’s hand.

Georgiana sighed dramatically and he glanced over at her, “It was so romantic! Elizabeth said ‘Will rescued me again. He is ever so strong.’ I suppose she meant that you carried her when she fainted.”

Darcy smiled fondly and did not elaborate on the near-miss with the hackney coach. He changed the subject, “Did you tell her not to worry about Miss Bennet?”

“She was awake for only a few minutes,” Georgiana replied, “I m…merely nodded when she asked ‘Is Jane resting?’ I wonder how much longer Mr Bingley shall be. It is getting quite dark.”

“I expect his sisters were not pleased with the news he had to relate,” Darcy said, stroking Elizabeth’s hand with his thumb, “They consider Miss Bennet to be very much beneath them.”

“Were you nervous when you told me that you wished to marry Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked, stretching.

“Certainly,” Darcy replied, “I would not marry someone who was not willing to devote themselves to your happiness, Georgie.”

His sister smiled and thanked him. The sound of a carriage drew their attention to the window. Georgiana stood up and looked out into the street.

“It is Mr Bingley,” she said, peering anxiously out at the tall figure.

“I shall go down and take supper with him,” Darcy replied, kissing Elizabeth’s hand and then resting it against the soft quilt.

Darcy kissed his sister’s cheek and quietly left the room. Georgiana returned to her needlework, wanting to be of use if Elizabeth awoke.

Bingley was extremely agitated. He was twisting his hat in his hands as he stood beside the fireplace in Darcy’s study. As soon as Mrs Lovell left the tray of refreshments and shut the door, he began, “To listen to Louisa and Caroline, you would think that our father was the King of England, rather than a kind man who made his fortune from wool in Leeds!” he refused the wine that Darcy had poured for him, “I told them that they should take a page out of your book, Darce!”

“I fear that would have had a disastrous effect, Charles,” Darcy ventured.

“Well, yes it did,” Bingley replied, still twisting his hat, “I then had to explain what I meant by such an assertion. I hope you will not be too cross with me.”

“Not at all,” Darcy told him, “You told them that I had seen the error of my ways? You acknowledged that not only did I now approve of your marriage to Miss Bennet, but that I am to marry her sister.”

Bingley nodded and finally took a seat opposite Darcy, “I fear I may have hurt their feelings! I told them that I did not think our Papa would be proud of how they were giving themselves airs. I raised my voice and informed them that they had better accept Miss Bennet with grace, or I would not be frequently in their company. I sounded like such a domineering oaf. I was so unkind to them.”

“Charles,” Darcy sat forward, “You always doubt your decisions and allow them to manipulate you. I am sure that they will take this as a warning to treat you and Miss Bennet with more respect.”

“I do hope that they will be kind to Miss Eliza, too,” Bingley replied, reaching out to take the glass of wine, “and that they, particularly Caroline, will not tease you too much on the subject.”

“There are many worse dangers in the world,” Darcy reminded his anxious friend, “It was better for them to hear of the matter first-hand. Now, you shall be free to spend tomorrow with the ladies, while I go about my business with the Colonel and Watkins.”

Bingley nodded and began to question Darcy about his plans to visit Newgate Prison. A loud rap on the front door ended their discourse. Within a minute, Cartwright had shown Conductor Watkins into the study.

“Darcy, Bingley,” the officer politely greeted them, passing his long blue coat to one of the footmen.

Darcy waited for the servants to leave them and then asked, “Is there any word on that drunkard from Gracechurch Street?” Bingley looked perplexed and Darcy quickly related the incident to him.

“His horse and carriage almost ploughed straight into you and Miss Eliza? No wonder that she has had such a relapse! Thank the good Lord that you were there to protect her!” Bingley exclaimed.

Darcy poured the officer a glass of port and watched him reading over his hastily jotted notes.

Watkins gratefully sipped the drink, “As you know, Mr Darcy, your servants saw the man running into a house in Lower Thames Street. After my men searched those lodgings, we found the rogue sleeping off the gin.”

“Was it that Slater lout?” Bingley asked, hoping that he was now in custody.

“No, no,” the Bow Street Runner replied, “Even in her grief and exhaustion, Miss Bennet would have quickly told Mr Darcy if it were him. It was John Hogarth.”

“Hogarth?” Darcy raised his eyebrows, “He was related to Jessie Hogarth, Mrs Younge’s natural daughter?”

“That is correct, sir,” Watkins acknowledged, “He heard of poor Miss Lydia’s death and looked for an opportunity to avenge his own sister’s demise.”

Darcy exchanged shock looks with Bingley and then asked the conductor, “Surely, he does not blame me for his sister’s death? Why, I paid for her funeral, and requested that you tell Mrs Younge of her loss.”

“You did more than many people would have in such circumstances!” Bingley exclaimed.

“It rather appears that Hogarth blames your fiancé for his sister’s death,” the Bow Street Runner explained, “If his sister had not decided to try to assist her, by running away from Slater and Jones, then she may not be dead.”

“His sister would be in Newgate with base devils like Wickham!” Darcy exclaimed angrily, “What an addle-pated, vile rogue!”

“What a despicable wretch!” Bingley concurred.

“My superiors placed him straight in the cells,” Conductor Watkins assured them, “We shall ask him what he knows of Slater tomorrow. I believe that it may have been easier for him to find Miss Bennet than the culprit who is truly guilty of his sister’s death.”

After Conductor Watkins took his leave, Darcy found it difficult to regain control of his temper and vengeful thoughts. After several attempts at placating him, Bingley left Darcy to pace up and down before the large fireplace. Darcy looked into the flames and watched their shadows dance about on the hearth rug. Thoughts of Elizabeth and Georgiana eventually led him to make his way upstairs.

Georgiana had fallen asleep with her face buried in the quilt beside Elizabeth’s right hand. Darcy stooped and gently lifted his sister up into his arms. She barely woke as he carried her across the hallway into her own room. He laid her head down against the pillows. Mrs Annesley had been searching through a trunk for a pattern for her mistress. She quickly realised that the task could wait until morning, and fondly began helping Georgiana get ready for bed.

Darcy thanked her and left the room. He hesitated before entering the master suite. Darcy quickly walked back down the hallway and into Elizabeth’s room. He told himself that merely looking at her would help to improve his mood. She turned over in her sleep, her long hair cascading in soft waves down her back. Darcy bent forward and smiled to himself as he tenderly kissed her soft cheek. She smelled like roses and lilacs.

The scent haunted him as he tried to sleep in his own bed. Several times, he looked over at adjoining door, wishing to go into her suite and lie down beside her. He reasoned that it would not take him long to find the key. Surely no one but himself would know if he unlocked the door and went in.

When he thought of how scandalised Elizabeth would be to find him there, Darcy decided against the tempting plan. He did not want his desire to be close to her to be misconstrued as something overtly shallow or lustful. It had taken him time to earn her respect and he did not want to lose it now. Such thoughts were cold comfort as he finally drifted off to sleep.

Elizabeth awoke to the delicious smells of warm pastries and a fine assortment of fruits. Lucy bustled around and told Elizabeth that her sister and Miss Georgiana were indeed both well. They were already taking a turn in the small garden with Mr Bingley. After helping Lizzy to complete her toilette and dress in a black muslin round gown, the maid handed her a letter.

“If you please, ring the bell if you need any help on the stairs, madam,” she curtsied and left the room.

Elizabeth smiled down at Darcy’s neat, even handwriting. She traced the letters of her name for a moment and then opened the precious message.

My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,
Please do not make yourself uneasy when you discover my absence. I assure you that it will be brief in duration. As I told you yesterday, I must go to Newgate to do all in my power to ensure your safety. Bingley will stay with you and your sister. I trust that my own dear sister will be safe in your care.

I trust that you had a restful sleep and will feel refreshed after yesterday’s unfortunate events. Please do not go further than the shrubbery or courtyard.
Yours &c,
Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Elizabeth joyfully hugged the letter to her heart. She then folded the sheet of vellum and placed it under the gift-box. Elizabeth regretted that she could not attach her amber cross to the fine, gold chain, which Darcy had given to her. It would not be prudent to wear such lovely jewellery while she was mourning poor Lydia’s loss.

Elizabeth felt a little dizzy as she made her way down the stairs. She held the banister tightly and slowly made her way out into the shrubbery, going in search of Jane, Georgiana and Bingley.

Newgate Prison had recently been rebuilt after a devastating riot and fire started by its inhabitants. Its formidable architectural design aimed to deter law-breaking. Darcy, Fitzwilliam and Watkins were led across the central courtyard, which teemed with as much grim squalor as the cells where the felons were kept. Darcy could hear wheels crunching on the gravel from Newgate Street, which lay on the other side of the thick outer wall. He glanced out through the thick iron bars of a window at the crowd swarming around the gallows.

Wickham’s narrow bleak cell received only dim light from the inner courtyard. The fetid and rancid air reminded Darcy of the smell of the mummified bodies at Bullock’s Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly. At the sound of the warden’s keys jangling, Wickham looked up hopefully. Conductor Watkins offered him snuff and spirits in exchange for his ‘reliable’ information. Wickham’s dirty face twisted into a sneer when he saw that the Bow Street Runner had brought Darcy and Fitzwilliam with him.

Wickham made a show of offering them a seat on the lice-infested truckle. Sporting with them was the most entertainment he had had in weeks.

Wickham noticed their black armbands. “Who died?” he unwisely mocked Darcy, “More money for the coffers?”

“Miss Lydia Bennet,” Darcy growled, “You infected her with ‘French disease’! You left her with child! She died of feverish blood poisoning after a miscarriage!”

“But she’s not the one who has you all fired up,” Wickham crowed unrepentantly, “I’d wager that Miss Eliza, being a prime article, would occupy my ‘attentions’ for…”

Blood splattered the wall as Darcy’s fist slammed into Wickham’s nose. The younger man clutched his face, groaning in agony.

“You are not worthy even to mention her name!” Darcy exclaimed, pummeling Wickham with his fists, “Knowing what she would catch from you, I cannot believe that you tried to convince Georgiana to leave with you again!” Darcy ducked a blow and continued hitting Wickham until the Colonel and Watkins held him back.

The warden told Wickham that he would put him in the pillory unless he was civil to their guests.

“I needed a cure,” Wickham moaned, “Lydia and the other wenches did not suffice!”

“I assure you, from what her sisters have said, that, like most 15 year old gentleman’s daughters, she was a virgin,” Darcy ground out, unsuccessfully trying to free his arms, “I doubt that you can cure any disease by lying with someone pure!”

“You would merely have passed your filth on to Georgiana as well!” the Colonel spat.

Wickham rocked back and forth and his demeanor suddenly changed. He looked at the blood on the wall and on his own hands. Darcy thought he might feel some guilt over what he had done. Wickham then looked in amazement at his surroundings. Another minute passed and he began twisting his mouth from one side to the other. Wickham was soon pacing up and down, laughing hysterically as he held a pungent stocking over his bleeding nose.

“He’s not right in the head,” the warden explained unnecessarily to the visitors.

Conductor Watkins released his hold on Darcy and stepped towards the young felon, “Good afternoon, George,” he said amiably, “We’re looking for a friend of yours. Do you know where Al Slater is?”

“George?” Wickham looked confusedly from Darcy to the old officer. He then seemed to recollect himself, “Ah, Mr. George Darcy! How do you do, sir?” he stepped forward and shook hands with the Conductor.

Fitzwilliam was the first to realise that, in his deluded state, Wickham was addressing the Bow Street Runner as if he were Darcy’s late father, “What was your request of young Wickham, Uncle?” he said, emphasising the last word.

“Well, young Wickham,” Watkins said, catching on, “I was looking for an associate of yours. Allan Slater was last employed at the Robinson’s druggists in Gutter Lane, Cheapside. Do you know where he may be residing now?”

A desire to please his ‘benefactor’ made Wickham run a hand through his greasy hair and loosened his tongue, “I certainly do, Mr. Darcy, sir! He works as a groomsman on the stagecoach that runs between town and Tempsford.”

Darcy cleared his throat, “He would be familiar then with the Alconbury Hill-Tempsford Turnpike, around 70 miles from London?”

“Oh, there you are Will,” Wickham said, dropping the putrid stocking and reaching out to shake Darcy’s hand, “Yes; I believe that Al frequents The Wheatsheaf up near Alconbury Hill. Remember that we stayed there on our way from Cambridge?”

Darcy humoured him with a perfunctory handshake and then Darcy reapplied a linen handkerchief to his own injured knuckles. He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully, fearing that if he put a step wrong, Wickham’s less helpful nature would reemerge. “Father,” he said addressing the Bow Street Conductor, “I do not believe that this Slater is a suitable associate for George. Slater scared a certain young lady at the Inn.”

“Do not be so pompous,” Wickham whispered harshly, “You did not approve of me larking with Byron when he entered Trinity College at Cambridge, and now look at all of his accomplishments!” he turned to Darcy’s ‘father’, “You see that I am right, sir, do you not?”

“Perhaps it will be best if I meet this Slater for myself, young George,” the Bow Street Runner replied, “If you would be so kind as to provide me with the town address of the coaching business, I shall be able to judge his character for myself.”

Wickham suddenly looked alarmed and began to contradict his earlier statements. He shook slightly as he warned his ‘benefactor,’ “To be on the safe side, ‘sir’, I should take your son and nephew with you!”

Conductor Watkins took all of this lunacy in his stride and continued in a low voice, “And where should I take my son and nephew to meet your ‘friend’?”

“He works out of Jones and Smyth’s on Tavistock Street in Covent Gardens, sir. It ain’t too far from Derby House, though it is a rough part of town. You be sure to take care, sir. You were always so good to my late father and me.”

“I thank you, young George,” Watkins replied and Wickham shot a smug look at his ‘master’s’ son.

Darcy remembered well the superior glares reserved for him when Wickham gained his father’s approbation. Like he had as a younger man, Darcy rolled his eyes – half from loathing, half from pity. As the cell door was slammed shut, Wickham could be heard pleading for ‘Old Mr. Darcy’ to set him free.

“I am greatly relieved that your father did not live to witness such a sight,” Colonel Fitzwilliam muttered, following Darcy and the officers down the narrow corridor.

Darcy quietly agreed, nursing his throbbing, blood-stained knuckles.

“Wickham’s trial has been set for the 16th of September in the Old Bailey,” Conductor Watkins informed them and then addressed the warden, “We shall speak with John Hogarth now.”

“He attacked one of my men last night. He is in the pillory,” the warden told them, leading them back out into the large, wretched courtyard, “I believe he shall also stand trial at that next session.”

Women from the debtor’s section were cackling as they taunted the stocky man. Hogarth growled vulgar curses at them, his neck and shoulders straining against the hinged wooden boards. Dust flew up from his where his knees and feet grappled for leverage to break out of the frame.

As the gentlemen approached Hogarth, he spat at them. Much of what he said to Conductor Watkins was unintelligible. It merely confirmed their suppositions about his misguided ‘revenge’ against Elizabeth for his sister’s death.

Darcy at least had the satisfaction of venting his rage at the violent, idiotic lout. As soon as he had finished his vehement speech, he turned on his heel. The others hurried their steps to match his long stride. The heavy doors were not long locked behind them before Darcy’s groomsmen had the coach ready. Darcy sent a message with one of his best riders to the other Bow Street Runners. Conductor Watkins, the Colonel and Fitzwilliam then seated themselves in the coach. They immediately headed for Tavistock Street in Covent Garden.

Chapter 16

“Please, allow me,” Colonel Fitzwilliam murmured, leaning over to inspect Darcy’s hand.

Darcy’s eyes were fixed on the busy streets out of the side-glass. As they made their way down The Strand towards Covent Garden, the desire for revenge against Slater burned within him. He was, however, soon glaring at his cousin.

“Richard! Take care!” Darcy exclaimed, “I am rather attached to my fingers!”

“I was merely trying to be of assistance,” the Colonel explained, “You wrapped it in linen and cradled it against yourself. I began to worry that it was bleeding. Wickham’s nose and cheek also bled. What if the ‘French disease’ can be thus passed on?”

Darcy paled, contemplating the pain of having to give Elizabeth up if he contracted such an awful illness. “My skin is not broken is it? My knuckles are throbbing and I fear badly bruised. That is why I wrapped it. The last time I had a boxing lesson, Jackson told me to do so. In fact, he would not have had me hitting Wickham, without first strapping my hand. Perhaps it was not honourable for me to have struck him at all. He is out of his wits.”

“Any gentleman would strike out in anger after such impertinent, vulgar remarks about his fiancé,” the Bow Street Conductor said and then also leant over to inspect Darcy’s right hand, “There do not seem to be any cuts. You need not worry about sharing that scoundrel’s fate.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam expertly tied the handkerchief across the top of Darcy’s aching knuckles, “See, cousin, all your fingers are still attached!” he smiled.

Darcy flexed the muscles in his hand and hoped that this ‘bandage’ would not constrict the use of his fingers too much. “Would you be so kind as to pass me the box from that shelf up there, Conductor Watkins?” he asked.

As soon as Colonel Fitzwilliam saw the small, wooden box he began to object, “The Conductor’s men from Bow Street will be at hand, Darce! You need not bear arms!”

“This man planned to kidnap our Georgiana. He abused my fiancé. Slater has murdered at least two people. I shall not go in there half-cocked.”

“What if he wrestles the weapon from you and you are hurt? What if you shoot an innocent in these crowded streets?”

“I shall not miss,” Darcy replied, in a tone that brooked no further opposition from his cousin. He removed one of the double barrel flintlock pistols from the box. Darcy checked the gunpowder stored in its barrels. He then adjusted the flint and steel hammer.

Conductor Watkins admired the ornate design and tried to guess its date of manufacture, “Such fine workmanship, sir. 1806?”

“Yes,” Darcy murmured, “They were a gift from my father shortly before his death. He worried that I would be attacked on long journeys.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam watched his cousin carefully, reflecting on how proud Uncle Darcy would be of his son. The Colonel knew what a good shot his cousin was, but still feared that Slater may somehow get the better of him. “Give me its pair please, Darce,” he requested.

Darcy glanced over at him and then nodded, grateful for his cousin’s support. As the coach turned onto Tavistock Street, the Colonel prepared his weapon.

Darcy’s groomsmen brought the horses to a slow trot. They passed Colhoun’s Coal Merchants, Davenport’s Tea-dealers, Bainbridge’s Hosiery and Lawson’s Woolen-drapers. Between these businesses and a series of warehouses, stood Jones and Smyth’s Coach House.

The footmen had barely opened the door, before Darcy, Watkins and Fitzwilliam were striding into the establishment. Over the din from carriages being repaired, the Bow Street Conductor, called for the owners, Mr. Smyth and Mr. Jones.

A short man in a dusty waistcoat stepped forwards, “I’m Mr. Smyth,” he said warily, looking from Watkin’s truncheon to Darcy and the Colonel’s drawn pistols.

“We are looking for one of your men. Magistrate Giddens has given me the authority to arrest him,” Watkins explained, “Where is Allan Slater?”

“He were just here, officer. Al?” Smyth called out angrily, annoyed by a couple of scandalised customers watching the scene, “Get out here! Slater?”

A large carriage wheel suddenly rolled across the ground, almost knocking over Watkins and Smyth. It was just the diversion that Slater needed. Several women in the street were soon screaming, as the heavy-set man flew out of the Coach House like a cannon-ball.

“Slater!” Smyth yelled struggling to the doorway, “After him, lads!” he told three of his workers.

Darcy and Fitzwilliam rushed ahead of them, but were blocked by several Bow Street Runners. Conductor Watkins immediately ordered them to join the pursuit. Along with Darcy’s groomsmen and footmen, this meant a large group of men were soon ducking and weaving down Tavistock Street.

A small boy was wailing, his sister trying to brush him off. Darcy stopped and careful not to frighten them with the pistol ascertained that a large man in a brown waistcoat had knocked into them. They pointed down an alley. Darcy and Fitzwilliam called to the others and then sprinted down the dingy side-street. After asking several people, many of whom had, of course, seen a large man in a brown waistcoat, the group soon found that they had run several blocks. They found themselves in the irregular square known as Seven Dials.

It was one of London’s most notorious slums – overcrowded tenements dwarfing the multi-faceted sundial pillar, which stood in the middle of seven intersecting roads.

“Finding him in this rookery of St Giles, will be like finding a needle in a haystack,” one of the Bow Street Runners muttered to another officer.

Darcy circled the sun-dial looking out into each bustling street. A group of poor Irishmen chanted a vulgar limerick at the Bow Street Runners. A Negro sailor apologised as he bumped into Darcy, and then headed into one of the many public houses. Darcy began to follow the man into The Rat and Parrot, but someone was soon tugging on his sleeve. He looked down at the gaudily dressed woman.

“Only a shillin’ for a shunt against the back wall,” she purred, her breath reeking of ale.

Repulsed, Darcy pulled his arm free and stepped backwards into his cousin’s path. The street-walker darted away as Conductor Watkins began to call a search of the six nearest public houses. This soon proved futile.

The lawmen fanned out, asking residents for their assistance in tracking down Slater. Unwholesome fumes hung over the rooftops, making Darcy feel even more trapped and uncertain. Lounging at each corner were groups of bedraggled men, women and children. They congregated there outside of the gin houses and filthy tenements as if gasping for air. Darcy saw two women coming to blows over some perceived slight.

After hours of fruitless inquiries, Darcy lost hope of finding Slater in such a dissolute place. It was a maze of alleys, lanes, streets and courts – all knotted together like a filthy cravat.

Everywhere Darcy looked, everything seemed the same – the same poverty-stricken people and ill-proportioned houses straggling in the dirt. The same sooty chimney-boys seemed to be haggling with the same housemaids in tattered aprons. The same wagon drivers seemed to be coughing as they made their way through the sultry smoke and uneven streets. The same storekeeper seemed to be chasing a ‘blooming chit of a girl’ everywhere he turned. The same vendors with their tinkling bells and squeaking barrows seemed to be adding to the din on each street.

As the light began to fade, Conductor Watkins convinced Darcy, Fitzwilliam and their men to return to their coach in Covent Gardens. After a long, melancholy walk they arrived back at Slater’s workplace. Mr Smyth had taken exceptionally good care of Darcy’s coach and horses. Darcy left it up to the Colonel to thank the man. He was too busy being disappointed in himself.

Darcy had failed to catch Slater and had therefore failed Elizabeth and his sister. Darcy would now need to explain to his fiancé that the man who had mistreated her was still on the loose. As they headed for Derby House, Fitzwilliam tried to console him, but had little success.

At that very moment, Elizabeth was crouching beside the door to Darcy’s study. “Please let me in, Georgie. I don’t know how I have upset you, but I wish to make amends for it.”

“I heard what Mr B…Bingley said to you,” Georgiana sobbed.

Elizabeth waved Mrs Annesley and Mrs Lovell away and spoke patiently with her fiancé’s sister, “You overheard him comforting me about Will’s visit to Newgate?”

“Yes,” Georgiana mumbled, blowing her nose, “Why does he tell ev…everyone but me!”

“I am sorry that it upsets you so, Georgie,” Elizabeth told her, “I could not betray his confidence. We were trying to protect you. It is just me here; Jane and Mr Bingley are still in the garden. May I comfort you? Please come out and let me help…”

A loud rapping on the front door suddenly startled Elizabeth. Cartwright opened the door, but was soon pushed back by a long stick and a foreboding presence.

“I must speak with my nephew at once,” Lady Catherine’s voice echoed through the vestibule.

“I am afraid that he is out on business, Lady Catherine,” Darcy’s valet explained and offered to bring her refreshments in the drawing room.

“Is Miss Eliza Bennet within the house?” Lady Catherine rudely interrupted him.

“Yes, madam,” Cartwright gave a low bow and began to lead Lady Catherine towards the study.

Not wanting Georgiana to witness what would undoubtedly be an unpleasant scene, Elizabeth walked briskly into the vestibule.

“I require a few minutes of your time, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine ordered, ignoring Elizabeth’s polite inquiries after her health and journey, “Will you ‘grace’ me with your company while we take a turn about the Park?”

“I am afraid that your nephew would be most upset if I were to do so, Lady Catherine. He has asked me not to leave the grounds,” Elizabeth informed her. “Perhaps Lady Anne’s courtyard would be more appropriate place. Your sister certainly planned a beautiful garden down there.”

Lady Catherine told her Dawson and Darcy’s servants not to disturb them. She then begrudgingly followed Elizabeth out towards the basement stairs. A heavy-set, grimy man was lurking behind Lady Catherine’s barouche box. Slater pulled a knife out of his brown waistcoat and followed the ladies down towards the private courtyard.

Posted on: 2008-11-22

Chapter 17

Lady Catherine gesticulated with her walking stick as she berated Elizabeth. “In a moment of infatuation, you have made my nephew forget what he owes to himself and to all his family! Through your arts, allurements and your ‘rescue’ of Georgiana, you have drawn him in!” She paced around the private courtyard, “This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now, what have you to say?”

Elizabeth sighed, “Mr Darcy does not consider himself to be engaged to Miss De Bourgh. I...”

Lady Catherine rudely interrupted her, “The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends -- to his tacit engagement with Miss De Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say, that from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?”

Al Slater gripped his knife tightly and ducked down as he passed the basement kitchen.

“Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and smoothed her black bombazine gown, “You and Lady Anne both did as much as you could, in planning the marriage; its completion depended on others. If Mr Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?”

“Honour, decorum and prudence forbid it, Miss Bennet! You will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us.”

“These are heavy misfortunes indeed,” replied Elizabeth, relieved that Lady Catherine did not know of the true circumstances of Lydia’s death. “But I would be so very fortunate to be united with your most excellent nephew. He is...”

“Obstinate, headstrong girl!” Lady Catherine exclaimed, “I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you at Easter? Is nothing due to me on that score? You seek to divide my daughter from my nephew? Are the upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune to be endured? But it must not, it shall not be. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.”

Elizabeth lost her temper, “In marrying your nephew I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere! He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter: so far we are equal.”

Slater inched closer and peeped around the corner into the sunlit courtyard.

“True,” Lady Catherine acknowledged Elizabeth’s assertion about her father’s status, “You are a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not consider me to be ignorant of their condition. I was astonished when Mr Collins told me that my nephew had been socialising with residents of Cheapside!”

“Whatever my connections may be," Elizabeth angrily replied, “if Mr Darcy does not object to them, then they can be nothing to you.”

Lady Catherine propped her walking stick against the small bench and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her reticule. "I had hoped that you would be reasonable, Miss Bennet. I will use whatever means at my disposal to persuade you to break off this preposterous engagement with my nephew.” She thrust the paper at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth unfolded it and was shocked to see that it was a money order from the Bank of England. Underneath the Britannia medallion was her own name and it was made out for the enormous sum of ten thousand pounds.

“That figure is ten times your dowry, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine said, “You must promise to catch the eye of another gentleman with it.”

“I will make no promise of the kind!” Elizabeth exclaimed, both saddened and angered by the action.

“Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will ever recede. I shall not give you a moment’s peace until you have given me the assurance that I require.”

“And I shall certainly never give it!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I am not one to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your Ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise, make their marriage at all more probable? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. Your nephew would not approve of your interference in his affairs, and I certainly do not...”

Slater lunged forward, grabbing Elizabeth around the neck, “You’re a feisty one! I shall enjoy taming you!”

“Slater!” Elizabeth was stunned.

He held her roughly against himself, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll not scream!”

Lady Catherine was stunned into silence for a brief moment. She soon reached for her walking stick to defend herself and Miss Bennet. Lady Catherine wished to punish this rogue for planning to kidnap Georgiana. Slater waited until Lady Catherine’s back was fully turned. His knife then pressed further into Elizabeth’s neck as he kicked out at Lady Catherine. The older woman’s startled, pained gasp made him laugh.

“Let her Ladyship go, Mr Slater,” Elizabeth pleaded, knowing that, despite her domineering ways, Darcy had affection for his Aunt. Elizabeth also hoped that Lady Catherine would warn Georgiana and the other members of the household.

“Why are you trying to help the old crow?” Slater asked, “She just tried to buy you off and make you leave your soddin’ dandy.”

“Do you not know who I am?” Lady Catherine retorted, “I am not an ‘old crow’ and my nephew is most certainly not a ‘dandy’!”

“We could go to Thread-needle Street and cash the order.” Elizabeth tried to stall Slater. “I shall then pay you for letting me go free.” Elizabeth hoped that Darcy and the Colonel would find them before Slater hurt her.

“You think I’m a fool? She will cancel the order before we can get within two blocks of the Bank,” Slater spat, “You think I’m a simpleton? After I gave all of blasted Darcy’s lawmen the slip? After I finally found my chance to claim my prize? We’re leavin’ all right, but it ain’t to no bloomin’ Bank.” Slater tightened his hold on her, running his fingers across the silky fabric of her dark gown, “We’re goin’ to Cock Alley!”

It was difficult to tell whether Elizabeth or Lady Catherine’s repulsed gasp was louder.

“Let her go, Mr Slater, so that we may be alone,” Elizabeth pleaded, hoping to trick him into letting the older woman go and raise the alarm.

“So, you’re a ‘bit o’ muslin’ after all,” Slater said; his ego had got the better of him. As he pushed Elizabeth towards the far wall, Lady Catherine stumbled towards the kitchens. Realising that all of the servants must be in the main house, she rushed up the steps.

“Is that not our Aunt’s barouche box?” Fitzwilliam asked as they made their way towards Derby House, “I fear a confrontation with her is the last thing we need after our fruitless search.”

Darcy looked out at the fine carriage as they pulled up in front of his town house, “I hope she has not upset Elizabeth and Georgiana.” A footman held the coach door open for them.

“Darcy! Fitzwilliam!” Lady Catherine screeched, gasping for air as she reached the top of the basement steps. She pointed down towards the courtyard, “The man who attempted to kidnap our Georgiana is down there with Miss Bennet!”

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The footmen hurried Lady Catherine into Derby House. The Colonel and Darcy grabbed the double barrel flintlock pistols out of their wooden box. Both men thundered down the stairs towards the private courtyard. Darcy’s heart was in his throat. Slater was running his hands over Elizabeth’s shaking legs while he cut long strips from the skirt of her bombazine gown. As she struggled, he began to bind her. Slater did not finish his vulgar threats. Darcy and Fitzwilliam’s pistols sparked and they both got off a shot before Slater knew what hit him. Elizabeth screamed as Slater fell against her.

Darcy immediately handed his pistol to his cousin and rushed over to her. He heaved the large man off her legs and wrapped his arms around her. Elizabeth sobbed and buried her tear-stained face in his chest. Darcy began to lift her up, determined to carry her straight to the mistress’ suite and immediately order a warm bath for his Lizzy. It was then that Slater lunged, blood spurting out of his mouth and side. He swung the knife at Darcy, stabbing him in the right shoulder. Darcy was intent on sheltering Elizabeth and tried not to cry out at the excruciating pain ripping through his arm and neck. Elizabeth cringed away from the noise and smoke as the Colonel shot Slater twice more. The scoundrel staggered and fell face-first against the wall.

“Send for Doctor Blatchford. She is not well,” Darcy requested hoarsely and then passed out, his arms still tightly wrapped around his Lizzy.

“Will,” Elizabeth murmured and then straightened up, keeping her eyes fixed on her fiancé’s pale face, instead of the detestable corpse beside them. “Will!” she screamed when she saw the knife protruding from his shoulder and blood staining his clothes.

Colonel Fitzwilliam bent over them and with more calmness than he felt said, “Our Darce shall be just fine. I am so sorry that you were hurt, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth kept a tight hold on Darcy’s arms while the Colonel expertly extracted the knife. He tossed it to one side and gently pulled off Darcy’s coat. He wound it tightly around his cousin’s right shoulder. Bingley ran into the courtyard, apologising profusely for not knowing that Elizabeth was in such danger.

Bingley removed his coat and wrapped it around Elizabeth and her tattered gown. She quickly alleviated his guilt and told him to help them carry Darcy back into the main house. Colonel Fitzwilliam carefully lifted Darcy’s right arm and placed it around Bingley’s neck. He then took his cousin’s left arm and held it over his right shoulder. Elizabeth followed them, glancing anxiously at her fiancé’s limp form. As soon as they reached the street level, Colonel Fitzwilliam ordered a footman to fetch Doctor Blatchford. Another was sent to help Cartwright to make Lady Catherine comfortable.

“He shall be alright, dearest Georgie,” Fitzwilliam was soon telling his cousin, who was sobbing in Jane’s arms. The women turned to each wrap an arm around Elizabeth. They followed the men as they carried Darcy up to the master suite. Elizabeth thought only of him, not wanting to leave even for a moment. She sat on the chair on the left side of his bed. Elizabeth intertwined their fingers, praying that he would not leave her.

Chapter 18

After Lucy had helped her to change into a fresh black gown, Elizabeth was examined by Dr Blatchford. He offered her sleeping draughts to ‘calm her nerves’, but Elizabeth insisted that she was fine. Jane and Georgiana were greatly relieved. Elizabeth’s boldness gave them both the courage to return to the drawing room. They both sat there obediently, listening to and endeavouring to placate Lady Catherine. Elizabeth followed Dr Blatchford back into Darcy’s suite.

The physician introduced her to Mr Lawrence, a renowned surgeon from Whitehall. Now both men tried to dissuade her from remaining in the room. Elizabeth stubbornly refused their requests. Dr Blatchford relented, reasoning that it would lift Darcy’s spirits to see her there when he awoke. Elizabeth clasped Darcy’s left hand while the men prepared their equipment. Sadly, she had to relinquish her grasp when they turned Darcy onto his left side.

Elizabeth then kept her eyes fixed on Darcy’s pale face, blushing as the men cut away his shirt. She knew that Lady Catherine would be scandalised if she realised that Elizabeth had remained in her nephew’s suite. Dr Blatchford considerately handed Elizabeth a cloth and a small bowl containing water, chamomile, lavender and sage. Elizabeth was relieved to have this to occupy her. She gently mopped Darcy’s brow, praying for his recovery. As Dr Blatchford listened to his patient’s heart through a wooden ear trumpet, she could not help looking at her fiancé’s bare, muscular chest.

After pouring spirits over Mr Darcy’s shoulder, Mr Lawrence examined the knife wound. He studied it from different angles using a round, concave mirror to reflect the light onto the gaping wound. After allowing the bad blood to flow out, he poured more spirits over it. Mr Lawrence then firmly held a thick cloth over the wound. “The blunt force has not dislocated Mr Darcy’s shoulder and hopefully the joint will remain undamaged,” he announced. “This is good news because those bones are dangerously close to important blood vessels. The scapula too is not broken. This bad flesh wound of the supraspinatus muscle, however, could cause nerve damage.”

Elizabeth gasped, “He will not lose the use of his arm, will he?”

“I do not believe so, madam,” Mr Lawrence calmly replied, “Of course, if sepsis sets in we shall have to amputate the limb. But please do not alarm yourself on that score! We are not in some tent on a foreign field; he shall receive the best care available. We can thank the Lord that the knife was not plunged further. It did not puncture the thoracic cage. Perhaps Mr Darcy’s friend or Colonel Fitzwilliam should attend your fiancée, Miss Bennet?” he ventured.

“I assure you that I am quite up to the task, Mr Lawrence,” Elizabeth stated with more confidence than she felt, “The Colonel and Mr Bingley are both is occupied with the Bow Street Runners at present.”

Mr Lawrence nodded and turned to his colleague, “Please prepare the opiates in case Mr Darcy suddenly awakes, Dr Blatchford.” Mr Lawrence wrapped a sheet around Darcy’s torso, tying it in knots along his spine.

Dr Blatchford stood beside Elizabeth and made a concoction of opium, spirits and camphor. To allay some of her fears, he said, “Hog's dung used to be applied in such cases, Miss Bennet. The bleeding did stop, but, as a rule, the unfortunate sufferer contracted lock-jaw. We can take comfort in knowing how far we have come.”

Elizabeth nodded and watched as Mr Lawrence pulled a haemostatic clamp out of his kit. There were small clamping pliers attached to its long handles. Dr Blatchford explained that the clamp had a locking mechanism that could be applied to the wound to stem the blood flow. This would allow Mr Lawrence to stitch up the gash. Mr Lawrence threaded a curved, bronze needle with thick cotton. He had only completed three sutures when Mr Darcy began to stir.

Dr Blatchford quickly stepped forward and held Darcy’s clutching arm down, “Please remain calm, sir. We are treating your wound.”

“Lizzy!” Darcy croaked hoarsely, trying to focus on his physician’s face, “He hurt her! You must attend her, Dr Blatchford.”

“She is quite well, sir,” the doctor replied, “You took the worst blow yourself,” he turned slightly, so that Darcy could see his fiancé.

Elizabeth bent over Darcy and caressed his clammy cheek. She tried not to cry when she saw the pained look creasing his features. “You rescued me, Will,” she said gratefully, “You must drink Dr Blatchford’s preparation. I shall be here when you awake.”

Darcy attempted to smile, but was soon gritting his teeth against the excruciating pain radiating through his right shoulder. Dr Blatchford helped him to sip the concoction of opium, spirits and camphor. Elizabeth whispered reassuringly to Darcy and gently mopped his brow. Her hopeful face was the last thing that he saw before he once more lost consciousness.

“You are to be congratulated, Miss Bennet,” Mr Lawrence said gratefully, using an ivory piston-action syringe to siphon off blood from the wound. Dr Blatchford then held the round, concave mirror up to the light, while Mr Lawrence finished suturing the wound. The surgeon then wiped the blood from his hands on a handkerchief tucked in a sleeve of his grey frock coat.

Dr Blatchford applied a primrose and comfrey balm to the wound, explaining to Elizabeth that it would also relieve any joint pain suffered by her fiancé. He also applied it to Darcy’s bruised knuckles. Mr Lawrence returned his instruments to his kit. The surgeon then bandaged his patient’s shoulder and right hand.

Elizabeth made her way to the drawing room to tell the ladies that Darcy had survived the surgery. She barely had time to reassure Jane and Georgiana that he was resting comfortably, before Lady Catherine rose and demanded to speak with her alone. Wanting to spare Georgiana, Mrs Annesley, Jane and Mrs Lovell from witnessing the scene, Elizabeth followed Lady Catherine into Darcy’s study. His Aunt paced over to a stiff-backed chair and sat down, imperiously smoothing her olive green dress. She motioned impatiently for Elizabeth to seat herself on the lower lounge.

“There is no need to thank me, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine began, “Any Christian woman would have raised the alarm and seen to it that you were rescued.”

Elizabeth was flummoxed and imagined she looked somewhat like a fish in one of Darcy’s ponds. She closed her mouth and swallowed down a torrent of bitter words. She thought, ‘How dare Lady Catherine not thank me for begging Slater to release her? If the Colonel and Darcy had not arrived, I may have been...’

Lady Catherine’s pompous voice interrupted her unpleasant thoughts, “As for the physician and surgeon informing you of my nephew’s progress before finding me...”

There was a rap on the door and Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared. His Aunt barked several orders at him, insisting that he leave. The Colonel ignored her and offered them both refreshments. His eyes lingered on Elizabeth’s face as she quietly declined. Lady Catherine did not approve of this marked attention to someone of inferior consequence.

“Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine snapped, deciding to ignore her nephew, “I am most seriously displeased. Our business has not been concluded.”

“Business! Is that what you call it, Aunt?” Colonel Fitzwilliam ripped the money order which he had found after Slater’s body had been removed in half. Lady Catherine was flabbergasted and for once appeared to have lost the power of speech. Fitzwilliam turned to Elizabeth and formally bowed, “Allow me, on behalf of the rest of my family, who are considerably in your debt for the sacrifice you made to protect Georgiana, and for the vile, vengeful attack you just endured, to apologise for the way that you have been treated. Please wait for me in the drawing room.”

“I have not dismissed her,” Lady Catherine objected as Elizabeth chose to obey her nephew.

“She is not at your beck and call, Aunt,” Fitzwilliam replied, “As it is too late to travel back to Kent, I shall escort you to Berkley Square. I am sure that my mother and father will offer you comfort after today’s unfortunate events.”

Elizabeth could still hear Lady Catherine’s sharp replies from the corridor.

“I shall sleep in Lady Anne’s suite. Darcy always affords me that mark of respect when I...”

“You will certainly not displace Miss Eliza,” the Colonel vehemently replied, “She has been through another terrible ordeal, and frankly, Aunt, I am ashamed of how you have conducted yourself!”

“Lord and Lady Matlock will hear of your insolence!” Lady Catherine bellowed, “Your parents will disavow you! You need not escort me there – you merely wish to plead your case for your ill-mannered treatment of me!” She stormed out into the foyer, “Dawson! Dawson! Is the carriage prepared?” she bustled past Elizabeth and prodded one of her servants with the long, walking stick, “Fix your livery at once, you slovenly creature!” Lady Catherine then rudely berated Cartwright and Mrs Lovell as they tried to assist her.

As soon as the front door had slammed, Colonel Fitzwilliam paced over to Elizabeth. He offered her his arm and they entered the drawing room. After the door was closed, she breathed a sigh of relief. Elizabeth reassured Bingley, Jane, Georgiana and Mrs Annesley that she was fine. They all sat quietly for a few minutes, praying for Darcy’s recovery. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Bingley then told them briefly that Conductor Watkins and his men had removed Slater’s body. Bingley again profusely apologised for not following Elizabeth down into the courtyard.

“Please do not make yourself uneasy, sir,” she replied, “You did not want to interrupt my conversation with Lady Catherine. You could hardly have known that Slater would...”

“I am s...so s...sorry, Lizzy,” Georgiana clasped her hand more tightly. Elizabeth reached over and dried her eyes with one of the three linen handkerchiefs that were thrust at them.

Elizabeth smiled at them all and announced, “There is nothing like employment, active indispensable employment, for relieving sorrow. We must exert ourselves to offer all of the comforts and assistance that we can to Mr Darcy. Now, Georgie, I shall rely on your knowledge of your brother’s whims. What is it that he likes to eat when he is under the weather?”

Georgiana thought for a moment, “He rather likes Mrs Reynolds’ White soup. Mrs Lovell would have her sister’s recipe. Shall Mrs Annesley and I see to it?”

“Certainly,” Elizabeth beamed fondly at her and after a nod of approval from Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana and Mrs Annesley went in search of the housekeeper.

“Now, Jane, I believe that you should write to the Gardiners in Gracechurch Street and to our dear family at Longbourn. Tell them to keep Mr Darcy in their prayers. I believe that...”

“Please excuse me for interrupting, Miss Eliza,” Bingley said, “but I must inform you all of a plan, which Darcy proposed to me yesterday evening. He was concerned that you and Miss Bennet would greatly miss your family. In particular, he mentioned how changed your father seemed by Miss Lydia’s loss. Darcy believed that we should remove to Netherfield Park.”

Elizabeth was touched by how thoughtful and selfless her fiancé truly was, “Oh! You are both so kind! However, when Mr Darcy proposed the plan of travelling to Hertfordshire, he did not know that he would be injured.”

“Perhaps the country air would do him good,” Jane speculated, knowing how much Elizabeth would benefit from being within walking distance of their Papa. She also knew it was her duty to comfort her mother and younger sister’s after Lydia’s death.

“I am sure that Dr Blatchford would be willing to come to my estate,” Bingley added, “He is a fine fellow and used to travelling all the way to Pemberley to assist Darcy. Why, Netherfield Park is only 27 miles away. We shall only have to change the horses twice.”

“I shall go with Miss Eliza to make inquiries of the doctors,” Colonel Fitzwilliam announced, thinking that the plan would be particularly beneficial for Georgiana. She would undoubtedly have nightmares about the events which had occurred in Derby House’s courtyard. Fitzwilliam also surmised that Darcy would wish to recuperate away from the morning calls and prying eyes of ‘the Ton’.

“Splendid!” Bingley exclaimed, “Miss Bennet and I shall write letters to our families and I shall begin to arrange our journey.”

The next time Darcy opened his eyes, it was just after three in the morning. The fire was burning low in the grate. He forgot all about the pain in his shoulder when he saw Elizabeth. She was lying on a sofa, which had been placed on the left side of his bed. Her right hand was resting on the quilt beside Darcy, as if she had fallen asleep reaching out to him. The firelight picked up the auburn highlights in the soft waves of her hair. Darcy longed to touch it but he did not want to wake her. He let out a low gasp at this picture of devotion.

“Darce,” Bingley whispered, tiptoeing around to the left side of the bed, “Dr Blatchford will be back at five. He said that if you were in a lot of pain, that Miss Eliza and I should give you this elixir.”

“Would you please help me to stretch, Charles?” Darcy quietly asked.

After Bingley had diligently completed the task and helped Darcy to sip the medicine, Elizabeth began to stir. She blinked several times and shifted the quilt which Bingley had draped over her. When she saw that Darcy was awake her eyes lit up so brightly that it was as if morning had dawned. Bingley gave them some privacy, walking over to stare out at the waning moon. Darcy tried not to grimace as he reached out his left hand. Elizabeth intertwined their fingers and brushed a soft kiss across his knuckles.

“I love you,” Darcy whispered, realising that he had never directly told her so.

“Your actions bear that out, Will. Thank you for what you did for me,” Elizabeth squeezed his hand and smiled, “I am so delighted to see you sitting up and talking! I told the surgeon how tenacious you are and have assured everyone that you will soon be back to your old self.”

“I hope I shall never be my old self,” Darcy murmured, “He was an arrogant fellow until you humbled him, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth blushed and looked down at their criss-crossed fingers, “Perhaps,” she whispered, “You would do me a small favour.”

“You need only name it,” Darcy replied.

“Would you put Mr Bingley out of his misery? We have all told him that you shall not blame him for not barging into my private conversation with your Aunt. He is rather blaming himself for not stopping Slater sooner.”

“Charles?” Darcy called and Bingley quickly strode over to the side of his bed, “We could not have known that Lady Catherine would arrive and insist on speaking with Miss Elizabeth alone. We also could not have known that that vile rogue would follow them down to the private courtyard. You should not bear the burden for it. Thank you for looking after Georgie and Miss Bennet at such a horrendous time, and for sitting up with my fiancé this evening.”

Bingley’s gratitude was palpable, “You are ever so kind to say so, Darce!” he exclaimed. “We have put your other proposal into action. As long as you agree to take twelve drops of a laudanum tincture beforehand, Dr Blatchford thinks Netherfield Park shall benefit your recovery.”

“I do not wish to,” Darcy muttered.

Bingley was puzzled, “Why ever not?” and then he realised what was bothering his friend, “When we discussed it, you mentioned that the Miss Bennets may prefer to mourn in Gracechurch Street or at their parent’s estate. That is not the case, Darce.”

“Papa and Mama will think it very fitting that Jane and I accompany Georgiana and offer assistance to you while you recover,” Elizabeth told him, knowing that he was very fastidious about the rules of propriety. She then tried to make him smile, “I rather think that Colonel Fitzwilliam will also be of our party. He ‘greatly displeased’ your Aunt on my behalf.”

“Ah, and he lived to tell the tale,” Darcy mumbled, stifling a yawn, “He is a gallant fellow.”

“You are my wonderful, gallant fellow,” Elizabeth whispered, kissing his hand once more. He soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep. She was the only dream he needed.

Posted on: 2008-11-25

Chapter 19

20th December, 1812

Sir. G. Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock.

Darcy angrily crumpled and tossed the letter onto the Yule log crackling in the fireplace. He then stormed out of Bingley’s study and went on search of Elizabeth. Darcy heard her light laughter echoing through the entry hall. He thundered down the stairs. Like the rest of Netherfield Park’s lower rooms, the banisters were festooned with garlands of ivy, holly and other greenery. They did not make him feel particularly merry.

“Good afternoon, Will,” Elizabeth said fondly as he reached her on the front steps. “Have you ever seen such a sight?”

Darcy looked out at the lawn where Colonel Fitzwilliam was entertaining Georgiana, the Bennet sisters and the Lucas’ children by ducking and weaving through the hoops they held aloft. The look of joy on his cousin’s face only served to make Darcy more irritated. It would soon vanish when he read his own missive from the Earl.

“You lied to me,” Darcy muttered, speaking as quietly as his temper would allow him. He did not want to be overheard by Bingley, Jane or the other guests.

Elizabeth was shocked and exclaimed, “I assure you that I have done no such thing! I love you, Will! Please tell me what is the matter.”

“I love you, too.” Darcy fervently replied and gently took her arm. They strode across the lawn to pace under a copse of snow-covered trees, “I just received a letter from Matlock. My Uncle mentioned a sum of money that you were to receive from Lady Catherine.”

“I am never to receive it!” Elizabeth removed her hand from his arm and turned to face him, “I would not agree to your Aunt’s terms. Do you wish me to receive it? Are you angry at me for dividing your family? Would you have me leave?” she clutched at her grey woollen shawl, her ragged breaths visible in the wintry air.

Darcy nervously adjusted his gloves and then glanced back up at the pained expression haunting her eyes. “Please accept my humblest apologies, Lizzy. Of course, I do not wish you to leave. I was just so incensed that you had not informed me of this ‘offer of recompense’ I imagined everyone but I was aware of it. Will you please tell me why you kept it a secret?”

“It is not a secret,” Elizabeth murmured, “Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam knows of it as do his parents and Lady Catherine. The others are all ignorant of it. Richard and I chose not to tell you because we feared that it would only make it harder for you to reconcile with your Aunt. I also did not want to alarm or anger you while you spent week after week recovering from your wound.”

Darcy took her gloved hand and kissed it, thanking her again for her loving care. He wished he could vent his frustrations at his Aunt. He chastised himself for losing his temper with his fiancé. Darcy was relieved that Elizabeth had been so forgiving of his bad moods, largely fuelled by inactivity, while he had recovered. “How much did she offer you to break my heart?” he asked.

“Ten thousand pounds,” Elizabeth replied softly, again taking his arm as they strolled across the wintry lawn, “I refused it back in August. She demanded that I relinquish you to her daughter. I declined the ‘offer’ just before Slater entered the courtyard. Later, Richard found the money order on the ground. He ripped it up in her face and told her to leave Derby House. The next day we travelled to Hertfordshire. I assumed that it would be in poor taste to sully your Aunt’s reputation by speaking of the matter.”

“You are too kind,” Darcy told her, “I am extremely displeased with my relations. Lord and Lady Matlock have now officially refused their blessing of our union.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said reluctantly, “we could extend our engagement. If they had more time to become accustomed to the idea, then...”

“No!” Darcy said loudly, causing her to laugh.

“Does that ‘No!’ mean they shall never become accustomed to the idea, or does it mean that we should not postpone the wedding?” Elizabeth teased him.

“You know very well,” Darcy smiled.

“At least you can take comfort in my mother’s attentions to you,” Elizabeth told him, lightening the mood once more.

“When are your parents expected?” Darcy asked, aware that Elizabeth and Jane took great pains to separate him from Mrs Bennet as much as possible.

“Five o’clock,” Elizabeth replied.

“You are not too cold?” Darcy considerately asked.

“No, I am not. Do not fuss, sir!” Elizabeth jokingly chastised him, “I am not a delicate snowflake.”

“No. You are much more beautiful,” Darcy replied.

“Hmm,” Elizabeth mused, “You easily withstood my ‘beauty’ for some time. I had rather hoped you were in love with my mind.”

“I am in love with you - body and soul,” Darcy ardently replied, admiring the rose colour this brought to her cheeks, “That is why I cannot bear to think of you keeping secrets from me.”

They took another turn around the lawn. Elizabeth laughed as Colonel Fitzwilliam began to build a snow-man with the Lucas children and her sisters.

“There are some things that I do not openly tell you,” Elizabeth quietly confessed.

“Please do not make yourself uneasy,” Darcy replied, “I am sure there are times, particularly when you look pale at breakfast, when I think you must have had a bad dream about Miss Lydia or that other terrible business.”

Elizabeth nodded, relieved that he was more sensitive than she had originally given him credit for. She thanked him and then ventured, “There are other things on my mind. Charlotte being forced to cut ties with me seems unbearable at times,” She looked over at the Lucas children, “It is a comfort that Maria and Emily share their letters with me.”

“That is not the same as being able to freely correspond with your friend,” Darcy sympathised with her, “Perhaps I should write to Mr Collins and ask him to reconsider his stance on the subject.”

“I thank you for your kind suggestion, Will, but I fear that Lady Catherine would soon hear of it. She would become even more severe in her treatment of Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied.

He looked down at her saddened face. Her eyes lit up briefly as she watched the party on the lawn. Darcy glanced over at their friends and guests. Colonel Fitzwilliam had removed his blazer and was placing it around Georgiana’s shoulders, bundling her up further against the cold. They stood side-by-side laughing as the Lucas boys decorated the snowman.

“There is another matter I have not discussed with you,” Elizabeth murmured, “It involves Georgiana. I have told your lovely sister that I will not keep her confidences from you. Well, not ones that concern her health or safety, at any rate.”

Darcy was puzzled, “Is there something I should know of? What have I missed?” he asked worriedly.

Elizabeth gazed at him and chose her words carefully, “She has never said so directly, but I believe that she is infatuated with someone. I do not know the gentleman’s feelings, but I...”

“She is not yet ‘out’!” Darcy exclaimed, “Please do not tell me she has feelings for Sir William’s eldest or for Robert Goulding of Haye-Park. I specifically told their fathers that no attentions were to be paid to her!”

“The man is right in front of you,” Elizabeth calmly responded, “I believe that Georgiana is in love with the Colonel.”

Darcy suddenly stood still and frowned over at the group gathered around the snowman. Georgiana was clasping the lapels of the coat, which Colonel Fitzwilliam had wrapped around her. She was laughing as their cousin lifted Sir William’s youngest up to place an old hat on the snowman.

“Do you not see how particularly fond she is of him?” Elizabeth asked, “She lights up whenever he travels down to visit.”

“It can never be,” Darcy muttered, angry at Lord and Lady Matlock’s recent insistence that Richard marry Anne de Bourgh.

“Oh, Will,” Elizabeth sighed, “You cannot play the Georgian Papa forever. He is older than her, to be sure, but many men of one and thirty marry seventeen year olds. He is a fine gentleman and you would both...”

“I have no objection to the match,” Darcy informed her, “Although I would wish for Georgie to wait until at least one and twenty to marry. My conundrum is that Lord and Lady Matlock have planned another match for their son.”

Elizabeth frowned, “You have never spoken of it.”

“That is because I was only issued with the ‘ultimatum’ in today’s post,” Darcy replied, “The Earl states that either I marry Anne or he will insist on Richard doing so.”

Elizabeth gasped, “Is Anne to even be consulted on the matter? I saw no signs that she held particular regard for either of you.”

“Unfortunately, her illnesses and mother’s temper make her quite irritable,” Darcy replied, “When we came of age, Anne and I agreed, quite amicably mind you, to barely show a sign of friendship in Lady Catherine’s presence. She has never shown any inclination to be united with our other cousins, Jonathan or Richard.”

“What shall you do?” Elizabeth asked, “Do you...”

Her questions were cut short by Darcy’s sudden intake of breath.

“Is it your shoulder?” Elizabeth asked, “We shall go directly to a warm room and...”

Darcy assured her that he was not in pain. He was watching one of Bingley’s footmen approach his cousin with a letter on a silver tray.

“Please excuse me,” Darcy told Elizabeth, who was rushing to keep up with him, “I must warn the Colonel before he reads the letter from his father.”

They were too late, however. Georgiana looked on anxiously as Fitzwilliam’s face fell. He did not share Christmas greetings with them all, like she had expected.

“What is it, sir?” Georgiana asked, “Are Lord and Lady Matlock well? Has there been a death in the family?”

“I received a similar missive,” Darcy said quietly, “We shall discuss it at length, Richard. Bingley has some fine negus.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked from Elizabeth to Darcy, “There is nothing to discuss. I will not hear of you breaking your engagement. In the New Year, I shall have to travel to Kent and ask for Anne’s hand.”

Georgiana felt Elizabeth’s fingers close around her own, “Of what do you speak?” she asked, following her brother and the Colonel towards the Hall.

“My parents have demanded that either Will marries Anne, or I do, Georgiana,” Fitzwilliam explained.

“But Anne does not love you!” Georgiana exclaimed, “She does not have any peculiar regard for either of you!”

“How do you know that?” Darcy asked curiously, watching his sister’s countenance carefully.

“You know that I correspond with her quite frequently,” Georgiana replied, “She has so few people that she can speak openly with. Anne told me that she would be happy if she never married.”

“Do you think me such a bad catch?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked jovially.

“Certainly not,” Georgiana replied and her blush and averted eyes spoke volumes to her brother.

“They wish to secure Rosings Park,” Darcy explained, “They are hoping that I will give up Elizabeth in order to do so.”

“Well, Richard is right on that score,” Georgiana replied quietly, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand as they entered the drawing room. “It would be hideous if the two of you were forced to part. There must be someone else who could marry Anne.”

“It has to be someone in your family,” Elizabeth reminded her, “The Colonel’s eldest brother is married. Your brother plans to be. That leaves...”

“Me,” Richard said, perusing the letter once more while Darcy poured him a glass of warm, spiced wine. The Colonel was quite startled when Georgiana suddenly dropped his blazer on the ground and fled the room. “Is she unwell?” he asked, looking from Darcy to Elizabeth.

“No, she is not ill. Please excuse me. I shall go and comfort her,” Elizabeth curtseyed and then rushed out to find Georgiana.

Darcy handed his cousin the negus and then sat down beside the fire. The Colonel joined him on the settee. “Elizabeth believes that Georgiana... has become... fancies herself to be in love with you, Richard. I am sure, that, like me, you still see her as being a little girl.”

“She is one of the best friends I have in the world,” Fitzwilliam hesitantly replied. This revelation of her deep feelings for him was truly unexpected.

“I have often told her,” Darcy broke the silence, “that she is fortunate to be able to marry for love. It would greatly pain as both, whatever her ‘romantic’ feelings are, to see you marry for some other reason. Georgiana’s large dowry, which we both know has caused so much misfortune, will one day bless the man who wins her hand. If the capital were invested wisely, in time, a place such as Rosings Park could be purchased.”

“Do you wish me to marry Georgie?” Fitzwilliam asked, surprised at Darcy’s candour.

“I believe the idea is as new to you as it is to me,” Darcy replied, studying his cousin’s face, “I would much rather she married someone that I trusted than a rake like Frederick Tilney! My main object in talking to you about this matter is to dissuade you from rushing off after Twelfth Night. I would not wish you to marry someone that you are not in love with. I will do all in my power to assist you.”

“I thank you, sir,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, “I have much to think on, the least of which is whether I have the courage to defy my parents in such a matter.”

“Better to defy them than live a lie. I also believe that Georgie is right when she says that the match would not please Anne. She seems to have little inclination to marry and I fear, to be frank, that she would not survive to bear any man’s child.”

They both sat looking into the fire for some time, lost in their thoughts. Elizabeth meanwhile was speaking privately with Georgiana.

“I shall ne...never be able to f...face him again,” the younger woman sobbed.

“Of course you shall, my dear Georgie,” Elizabeth insisted, rubbing her back, “I am convinced that the Colonel both loves you and is in love with you. When you left the room, he did not feel slighted in the least. He was merely concerned for your health.”

“It matters n...not how he feels,” Georgiana cried, “Richard said that he p...planned to c...come to an understanding with An...Anne.”

“I am sure that your brother will dissuade the Colonel from making a hasty match,” Elizabeth replied, “Does he not ‘always do what is right’?”

Georgiana glanced up from her handkerchief, “Oh, Lizzy. Even if he does not marry Anne, how shall I ever convince Richard to return my affections? I have made a mess of everything!”

“You most certainly have not ruined anything,” Elizabeth assured her, taking the linen handkerchief and drying her eyes. She caressed Gerogie’s cheek, “I believe, that courting is much like playing the piano. It simply takes practice. Do you know that your brother said ‘I love you, Lizzy’, at least five times during his recovery, and it took me until last week to respond with those same words? You see, I get a little tongue-tied sometimes myself.”

Georgiana’s dark eyes widened in disbelief, “You do?”

“Certainly,” Elizabeth smiled, “Now, I shall send Lucy and Mrs Annesley to help you to dress for Christmas dinner.” She affectionately combed her fingers through Georgiana’s long ringlets, “We shall stay side-by-side all evening. Whenever you are nervous, you may squeeze my hand or tap my knee. Then I shall change the subject.”

“Oh, thank you, Lizzy!” Georgiana exclaimed, “You are just like the sister I always wished for!”

“Sisters for life!” Elizabeth beamed at her and then made her way out of the room.

Elizabeth was soon warming her hands by Mr Bingley’s fireside. She informed Darcy and Fitzwilliam that Georgiana was in better spirits and was dressing for dinner.

“I do not know how you do it!” Darcy said, admiring his fiancé’s skill at calming his sister’s anxieties, “There have been times when I cajoled her for an hour, and although she apologises for a week afterwards, she stubbornly refuses to leave her chamber.”

“Ah,” Elizabeth smiled, “You only have one sister. I have four... I mean three,” she hurried on, not wanting to think about Lydia’s loss, “I also have a woman’s intuition.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, “Pray tell me, Miss Elizabeth, did I offend her greatly by how I spoke of Miss de Bourgh?”

Elizabeth looked to Darcy who shrugged and she then turned back at his cousin, “She was more worried that she had offended you, sir. The best advice which I can offer is that you ought not to make yourself uneasy in her presence.”

“Ah, here you are!” Bingley exclaimed, escorting Jane into the room, “My Christmas angel and I just waved off Sir William’s carriage. I say, Miss Mary and Miss Kitty seemed much better today. Oh, and the Lucas’ children had a delightful time. Are you warm enough, Miss Elizabeth?”

“I am quite well, sir,” she replied, “I hope it does not snow before Papa can hurry Mama and the girls back out the door.”

“Well, my man Brown, believes that it will not snow heavily again until after Boxing Day,” Mr Bingley replied, glancing out at the melting, white blanket covering Netherfield’s lawns.

Three hours later, Elizabeth and Darcy stood beside Bingley, Jane and Fitzwilliam in the draughty, elegant entrance hall. Elizabeth began to worry that there had been a carriage accident on the icy roads between Longbourn and Netherfield Park. She was distracted from her reverie by a whisper from the stairwell. She glanced around and caught a glimpse of a disappearing blonde ringlet. Elizabeth excused herself from the gentlemen and went over to where Georgiana was hiding. She took her hand and walked up a few stairs. She reasoned that their conversation was now less likely to be overheard in the grand, echoing space.

“You need not be so timid, Georgie,” Elizabeth whispered, “He told Darcy that you were “one of his best friends in the world.” Is that not a handsome compliment? Now, remember what I said, you stay close to me and there shall be no need for tears or nerves.”

Georgiana nodded and Elizabeth entwined their hands. They joined the rest of the party in the entrance hall.

“You look very well, Miss Georgiana!” Bingley exclaimed, “That colour suits you very well. It is violet, is it not?”

“It is lilac, sir,” Elizabeth told him, feeling the vice-like grip on her hand tighten. Georgiana kept her eyes fixed on the floor tiles.

“Ah! I knew it was a floral shade,” Bingley said good-naturedly, “As you are an expert, Miss Eliza, you can tell me what shade your beautiful sister’s gown is trimmed with.”

Elizabeth assumed that having too very fashion-conscious sisters made Mr Bingley believe that all women wished to speak of such matters. As his sisters had written stating that they would be ‘unable’ to spend Christmas with him, she did not allude to them as she answered the question. Elizabeth looked at the hem of Jane’s black and grey half-mourning dress, “I suppose it is a sort of mother of pearl pink.”

Georgiana chanced a look at Darcy who smiled reassuringly. She then glanced at the Colonel who gave a polite, friendly nod. The sound of a carriage alerted them to their guest’s arrival.

“Oh, Mr Bingley! We are here at last!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, “Hurry up, Kitty. Take care where you walk, Mary. Oh, my dear Jane! You look radiant!”

“Merry Christmas, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet said when he reached her. He kissed her on the cheek, “Let us hope that 1813 brings better tidings than this ‘annus horribilis’, hmmm?”

Elizabeth agreed with him and they were soon enjoying a festive Christmas dinner. As she tried to drift off to sleep that night, she thought about the three best gifts she had received. One was a finely-crafted leather bound journal, in which her Papa hoped she could record all of the ‘brighter days to come.’ The second was a miniature of Lydia which Georgiana had made for her. It had been a project she had completed while visiting with Mary and Kitty at Longbourn and had been based on a larger portrait hanging in the Bennet’s parlour.

The third precious gift was from Darcy. He had pressed the small box into her hand as they were all climbing the stairs for the evening. Darcy had quietly quoted the Scripture which he had used to rebuke Mr Collins: ‘You are worth a price above rubies.’ He clearly did not want her to make a fuss about the gift, because he had quickly taken his leave of them all.

Elizabeth opened the small box once more and its precious contents shone in the moonlight. When she had first looked at it, she had thought it was her amber cross, but that was still hanging from the post of the bed. She had placed it where she could admire the gold chain, which Darcy had given her to replace the one that was broken. Elizabeth now padded over to the fireplace again, wishing to once more marvel at the gift. On the fine gold chain, hung a beautiful cross pendant, encrusted with the most exquisite rubies. In the centre was a stunning diamond. Elizabeth was delighted by the gift and awed by the one who gave it. Darcy’s love was the best treasure of all.

Chapter 20

“Oh, Jane, God has been very kind to us indeed! Both my eldest girls are to be married by special license! And in St Georges’ Church, Hanover Square, no less! Mrs Long and Lady Lucas will indeed be green with envy! Oh, when do you think your Mr Bingley shall have his own townhouse? Derby House is certainly grand. Are its furnishings much like the ones at Pemberley?”

Darcy raised his eyebrows at Bingley. They were both amazed that they could still hear Mrs Bennet’s paroxysms of delight from this distance. Despite the overcast sky, the Bennets and the Gardiners were all enjoying their time in Hyde Park. The early February air was a little brisk, but it was not too cold if one bundled up in coats and scarves. Mrs Bennet, Kitty and Jane began another turn around the shrubbery.

Darcy glanced at his watch, surprised that the Colonel had not yet returned with Elizabeth and Georgiana. He regretted not accompanying them on their errands. Rather than roaming around any more bridal warehouses, he had stayed to discuss fishing with Mr Gardiner and Mr Bennet.

Darcy absent-mindedly turned the ring on his finger. It had been a Christmas gift from Elizabeth and contained a lock of her precious hair. Over the last week, for the sake of propriety, she had been staying with her family in Gracechurch Street. Darcy had often fallen asleep looking at the tiny, delicate auburn strands plaited together within the ring’s glass front. At such times, he took comfort in knowing that she would soon be lying beside him.

“Jemima Gardiner! Get down this minute!” Mrs Bennet suddenly bellowed, startling Darcy from his musings.

In alarm, he glanced over at where the Gardiner children had been playing near the frozen Serpentine waters. Elizabeth’s small cousin was halfway up a frosty tree branch. It amused Darcy to imagine Elizabeth’s tenacity at the same age.

He stood up to rescue the ‘damsel in distress’ from her ‘fire-breathing’ Aunt Bennet. Darcy smiled to himself; he had overheard Nathaniel and Arthur describing Mrs Bennet as a ‘dragon’ and a ‘witch’ that morning. It reminded him of how he and Richard used to picture Lady Catherine, when they both were small boys.

“Oh! Please do not trouble yourself, Mr Darcy!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, wringing her hands dramatically.

“It is no trouble, madam,” Darcy politely replied.

“If I were as tall as Mr Darcy, I should save you, Jemima,” Nathaniel gallantly told her, now regretting daring his sister to climb the large oak.

“Thank you,” Jemima whispered, wrapping her arms around Darcy’s neck as he lifted her back down. For a change, she was cowed by how perilous her adventure had been.

At the sound of Elizabeth’s delightful laughter, he turned around to greet her.

“Mr Darcy saved me, Lizzy! I was ever so high!” Jemima exclaimed.

Elizabeth smiled warmly at them both. She left Georgiana’s side and scooped up Isabella, who soon stopped weeping.

“He is my hero,” Elizabeth told the girls, reaching for Darcy’s hand and brushing a kiss across his knuckles.

“Ewwww!” Nathaniel and Arthur both pulled faces. They avoided all of the kisses they could and were not sure why Darcy welcomed them so much. They rushed over to the Colonel and tried to convince him to leave Miss Darcy with Mrs Annesley and their Mama. They wanted to play soldiers.

Elizabeth balanced Isabella on her hip and turned to study Georgiana’s countenance. Darcy did not like the pensive look on Elizabeth’s face. He tilted his head towards one of her favourite walks. She nodded and they had soon left her little cousins behind with their grateful parents.

“Are you warm enough?” Darcy asked solicitously as they began their turn about the Park.

“I thank you, I am quite well,” Elizabeth replied, “This puce coat, which you know had my mother quite in raptures, is exceedingly warm.”

Darcy smiled, acknowledging that this was Elizabeth’s subtle way of thanking him for her trousseau of new garments.

“Was there a problem at Grafton’s?” he asked.

“No, all of the dress accessories had arrived,” Elizabeth replied, “There was an unfortunate incident while we were waiting for the Colonel’s curricle in Pall Mall.”

Darcy angrily muttered, “I think I will pay a call on Bingley’s sisters...”

“No, it was not them this time,” Elizabeth quickly assured him, “It was Lord and Lady Matlock.”

“Oh,” Darcy patted her gloved hand, “I am sorry, Lizzy. What happened?”

“Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam walked around the corner to ascertain what the delay was with his curricle. Georgie and I were having quite a pleasant conversation, when she spotted a tall man and a woman wearing an exquisite, crimson shawl.”

“My dear sister tried to introduce you to them and they cut you directly,” Darcy guessed aloud, pained by his Uncle and Aunt’s actions.

Elizabeth nodded, “Be assured that they were ever so polite to Georgiana. She, however, very upset on my behalf. I politely greeted them and they acted as if I did not exist. They quickly continued on their way when she mentioned that the Colonel was in the vicinity.”

“I am truly sorry, Lizzy,” Darcy repeated several times, squeezing the delicate fingers in the crook of his arm, “Poor Richard! His declaration, that he must be given a few months to think upon marrying Anne, has led to a great many tensions!”

“Please do not become too distressed on my behalf, sir,” Elizabeth murmured, “Your cousin is blessed to have your support. I so hope that he will follow his heart.”

“Once he has figured out what is in his heart,” Darcy added, knowing that his cousin was clearly torn between filial obedience and his growing feelings for Georgiana.

“Let others dwell on guilt and misery,” Elizabeth announced, “The next time that we take this turn, I shall have the honour of being your wife.”

“You mean I shall have the joy of being your husband,” Darcy smiled, “I have a surprise for you, Lizzy.”

“You have such a generous heart, Will!” Elizabeth exclaimed, “I do not know how I shall bear another gift.”

“I shall not give it, then,” Darcy teased her, “I would not wish for you to be overcome and swoon on the spot.”

“I have never swooned in my life!” Elizabeth laughed.

“Now, there is a challenge!” Darcy replied and slowed their steps, not yet wanting to return to their families, who were just up ahead. Darcy reached into the pocket of his long coat and extracted a sealed letter.

Elizabeth smiled, “Donne or Shakespeare?”

He handed her the letter, “It is not a poem, my love.”

“Oh, then it must be a fitting extract from one of Reverend Fordyce’s ‘Sermons to Young Women,’” she teased him. “For which of my many imprudent decisions am I to be chastised, sir?”

Darcy chuckled, “When I look at you, all I see are virtues! I would not even have Georgie read Dr Fordyce’s tome. My father used to say that if Fordyce were married, he would not speak so freely of subjugating women.”

“A very wise answer, sir,” Elizabeth congratulated him and then re-broke the seal.

10th February, 1813.

Yours &c,
Mr. Henry Howard
Bagot House, Kensington.

“Oh, Will!” Elizabeth wiped a joyful tear from her eye and embraced him, “The Lakes! I shall finally get to see them! May we climb Scalfell Pike and Broad Crag? Would it be asking too much to see the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall? Do you think that Sizergh Castle will be open to visitors? Oh, thank you, Will!”

Darcy was delighted with her enthusiastic gratitude. He affectionately wrapped the woollen, violet shawl back around her shoulders. “We shall sight-see to your heart’s content, my love! Now, you must tell me which of your sisters is to accompany us. There would be plenty of fine tapestries and bonnets to amuse Kitty and I am sure that Leven’s Hall has a library that would welcome Mary’s avid readership.”

“As much as I love them, I do not wish to take either,” Elizabeth replied, handing him the precious letter, “I know it is a custom for the bride to take one of her sister’s, but I would much rather that Georgiana accompanied us.”

“I thank you for your fond care of her, Lizzy,” Darcy beamed at her, “However, Mrs Annesley’s mother is unwell and she will not be able to accompany us up north. I was going to leave Georgiana at Derby House.”

“Georgiana will soon be ‘coming out’,” Elizabeth replied, “May I be so bold as to suggest that she accompany us without a ladies’ companion? I shall be quite content to spend any time, in which you need to see to business, with your dear sister.”

Darcy offered her his arm and she remained silent while he thought it over. “I am sure that Georgie will be delighted with the plan. Let us go and tell her.”

“May I make another suggestion?” Elizabeth asked, an impish grin lighting up her face.

“You certainly may,” Darcy replied, intrigued by the turn of her countenance.

“Well, with our ‘feminine sensibilities’, Georgiana and I shall, no doubt spend a great deal of time admiring petit point tapestries and heirlooms. I fear that you may become bored and wish to hunt and ride. You know what a poor horsewoman I am. I do not know how to solve such a conundrum.”

Darcy followed her line of sight to where Bingley and Jane were strolling with Georgiana and the Colonel. “You wish your sister and Bingley with us?” he guessed.

“No,” Elizabeth shook her head, “A little bird told me that Mr Bingley has other plans.”

“Who is this ‘little bird’?” Darcy asked.

“My cousin, Jemima,” Elizabeth smiled, “She overheard him planning a jaunt to Sidmouth.”

Darcy’s face paled, “You did not tell Miss Bennet, did you?”

Elizabeth laughed, “Of course not. I would not wish to ruin the surprise. Jane shall like staying at a
seaside resort very much.”

“I am no closer to discerning your suggestion,” Darcy reminded her.

Elizabeth began to tease him, “Who is it that is closer to you than any brother could be? A gentleman who would ride, hunt and fish with you all day long?”

“Ah,” Darcy guessed at her match-making scheme for his cousin and sister, “But you are forgetting, dearest Lizzy, that Richard does not have any leave in March.”

“Surely such things can be arranged,” Elizabeth replied, “He spends most of the year giving and following orders. After all of his kindnesses to us, I think that he deserves a holiday.”

“I shall speak with him privately about it later, my love,” Darcy replied, thinking over her reasoning.

Neither of them saw the other tall man, wearing a military uniform, press a note into Georgiana’s hand. She had been quietly watching the Gardiner children playing when Captain Tilney approached her. He had taken the opportunity of Bingley and the Colonel becoming engrossed in admiring a passing phaeton. Tilney bowed slightly, handed her the letter and then wished her a good day. It all happened in a split second. Georgiana blushed at such attentions and pushed the letter into her sleeve. It was highly improper for him to have written to her – she was not even ‘out’, let alone engaged to him!

Later, after joyfully accepting her brother’s invitation to accompany Elizabeth to the Lakes, she retired to her room. Throughout supper, she had been distracted by the letter concealed in her sleeve. Richard had worried that she had taken cold and Will had sent her to bed early. Georgiana now nervously examined the wax seal. A gothic castle was depicted above the words ‘Northanger Abbey.’ She debated whether she should open it, or take it to her brother and Mrs Annesley. Georgiana’s curiosity at the peculiar way that Captain Tilney had looked at her soon had her breaking the seal.

12th February, 1813.

Yours &c,
Captain Frederick Tilney
Royal House Guards, Oxford House.

Georgiana anxiously glanced out at the moonlit street, wondering what she should do. She could not bear to think of her Will and dear Lizzy being parted, by the horrible nature of poor Lydia’s death being publicly known.