by A K Madison
Disaster struck after she had turned onto the lane and run about halfway to the place where they regularly saw each other. A stone somewhat larger than a man’s fist lay exposed, probably due to winter’s upheavals. Her foot, shod in its sturdy jean half-boot, contacted the stone at an angle. She felt it roll beneath her as her ankle gave way, and she instantly found herself in an undignified heap upon the ground. The wind had been knocked out of her by the fall, and she felt she might have lost consciousness for a moment. That feeling was confirmed when she saw her bonnet lying a few feet away and felt the stickiness of blood at the side of her head. Her ankle throbbed, and her muscles, which had earlier been warming satisfactorily, felt painful and sore.
She abandoned the idea of getting up and lay on the sharp stones, seething with annoyance and impatience. She would miss her encounter with Mr. Darcy. He in turn would think her appallingly rude and would doubtless continue his ride. She, on the other hand, would lie there like an unfortunate turtle, unable to rise, and utterly dependent for succor on the next passerby. And who knew when anyone would choose to pass by on such a chilly morning? She gritted her teeth only to find that it made her head feel worse. She had just thrown away what would probably be her last chance for a friendly conversation with the man who was somehow edging himself ever more deeply into her heart. There, she had admitted it. She balled her fists pugnaciously as if daring some unknown opponent to argue with her. Her hair had come loose from its pins, and loops of it fell annoyingly over her face. She shook her head angrily and was assailed by a new wave of pain.
In the meantime, Mr. Darcy and Sirdar had arrived at the meeting point. Man and beast looked expectantly up the lane for a sight of the woman they both adored. Sirdar’s affections were quite simple. She never failed to bring him a tasty apple or carrot, she spoke in calm tones that did not set his nerves on edge, and she knew all the best places to pet him without being asked. She also stood where he could see her, a consideration he appreciated. His aspirations extended only so far as agreeable encounters, tasty tidbits, and soothing attentions to his head and neck. He also realized, dimly, that should he ever find her mounted on his back, he would be more than happy to carry her safely to the ends of the earth or wherever else she might care to go.
As we have seen, the man’s affections and wishes were far more complex and extensive. He resolutely pushed gloom aside, refusing to believe that she had deliberately avoided him. Her warm smile the evening before had been as good as a promise, had it not? She had most likely been detained at home and was even now walking briskly to meet him.
Darcy and his horse did not tarry long. He resolved to ride ahead to meet her, fully expecting to encounter her on the lane. They proceeded at an easy pace with that idea in mind. He was, therefore, startled to discover her lying in a small, dazed heap by the side of the road. He surmised immediately that she was still alive because she was quivering, though whether that was due to pain or anger he could not tell. He was kneeling by her side in an instant. Sirdar, anxious at the sight of his good friend lying on the ground, nudged her with his nose as though urging her to stand up.
“Miss Bennet! What has happened? No, do not try to speak.” As the survivor of, or witness to, many country accidents, he assessed her injuries quickly. “Can you turn your head?” He saw the trickle of blood on her forehead with a hiss of indrawn breath and moved to wipe the blood away with his handkerchief, noting that it still flowed freely. “Can you move your arms? Good. Your legs? Very good.” He peered into her eyes and found only annoyance there. “I am going to assist you to move into a more comfortable position.”
Placing an arm around her shoulder, he helped her to straighten her body so that she rested more comfortably. He folded the drab Benjamin he wore against the chill and placed it beneath her head, noting that she winced in pain when he moved her. “I see you have injured your head,” he said finally. “Where else are you hurt? How did it happen?”
“My ankle,” she managed between clenched teeth. “I set my foot on a large stone, and it gave way beneath me. It hurts dreadfully, and I seem to have hit my head.” She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. “Nothing else hurts. Only my pride,” she finished with a rueful flash of her usual good humor.
“I am glad to hear you say it. May I examine your ankle? Which one is it?” He knew it was a well-turned and attractive ankle, for he had glimpsed it several times and found much to admire. However, this morning, his only concern was for her well-being.
“The right.”
“I shall try not to cause you too much pain.” He placed her hand over the handkerchief on her brow, then moved her skirt cautiously aside, raising it only far enough to survey the damage. He could see the swelling beneath the sturdy orange jean fabric of the boot, extending to the area just above it. “Can you move your foot at all, Miss Bennet?”
She responded by gritting her teeth and moving the appendage left to right, then back and forth. “Yes, but it hurts.”
“Do not try any more, then.” He moved the hem of her skirt back down until her ankle was covered before rocking back on his heels. “Rest for a moment and gather your strength, Miss Bennet. I do not believe your injuries are grave, but the apothecary will make an assessment once you are safely returned to Longbourn. We will leave your boot in place on your foot for now. While I know it is uncomfortable, it is also preventing the ankle from swelling too much, and this will assist the apothecary in his evaluation of the injury. The injury to your head, while it appears alarming, does not appear to be too serious. Cuts to the scalp always bleed freely.”
He regarded her with what she was now calling “That Look,” but it appeared to her this morning as anxiety and concern.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You have certainly been my Good Samaritan this morning. I had been on my way to meet you and Sirdar.” She managed a weak smile. “We must see that he receives his treat when I can get to my pocket.” The horse, hearing his name, returned from his anxious vantage point a few yards away and nuzzled at her with his velvet nose. She reached up and petted it—not his favorite spot, but he seemed to understand that she could do nothing else.
After a few minutes of quiet which were not entirely awkward, Darcy said, “Do you think you could sit up, Miss Bennet? I will assist you.” At her nod, he supported her shoulders and helped her to a seated position, keeping his arm where it was.
“Oh! My head does ache.”
“Any feelings of nausea or dizziness?”
“No, sir. Just a headache.”
“Rest, then. We have plenty of time.” He continued to support her with his arm, all the while wishing he could pull her closer to rest on his shoulder.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was compelled to admit to herself how much she would like to be leaning on his shoulder. She could feel his warmth and solid strength through her cloak and his jacket. She allowed a small sigh to escape.
“Elizabeth—Miss Bennet—are you well?” His dark eyes, full of worry, searched her face, and his arm tightened around her slightly.
“Yes, sir. I thank you.” She managed a smile, watching his anxiety relax slightly. “I confess I find myself feeling very stupid. It was a ridiculous accident.”
“I disagree. The same accident might have befallen anyone.” It took all the force of his will to resist pulling her closer. They rested in a companionable silence for a few more minutes, and he finally said, “Do you feel ready for me to escort you home?”
“How will we accomplish that? I do not believe I can walk.”
“Sirdar and I will have the honor of assisting you. I know he is very tall, but you have seen for yourself his admiration and regard for you. He will carry you safely. You need not attempt to ride conventionally. Sit on his back as if it were a bench in your garden and hold fast to the edge of the pommel with your hand. Do you feel able to do that?”
“I believe so, sir. Would you be so good as to retrieve my bonnet? I am afraid it was a casualty of the fall.” She poi
nted it out.
“Certainly, madam.” He brought it back immediately. “If I might suggest, we will tie the strings so that you may carry it over your wrist. I do not believe you should attempt to wear it. Now, do you feel strong enough to put your arms around my neck?”
Elizabeth did so. Darcy quickly picked up his Benjamin, settled it around her shoulders, and whistled quietly for his horse. Sirdar approached immediately, gave a quiet “whuff” that communicated concern, and stood like an equestrian statue awaiting his rider. “Mind your manners, Sirdar, there’s a good fellow,” said Darcy quietly as he lifted Elizabeth up onto the saddle. He took her hand and showed her where she might grasp the pommel. Then, looping the bonnet around her wrist, he took her other hand and showed her where to grasp the cantle for good measure. “Are you comfortable, Miss Bennet?” He placed his hand lightly at her waist.
Elizabeth smiled with some of her usual good humor. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. This is not too different from sitting on a bench, just as you said.”
“Do you feel able to start? We should be at your home in a few minutes. I would prefer to walk at Sirdar’s head to guide him, but I can walk here if you wish.”
“I feel perfectly safe, sir.” And to her surprise, Elizabeth found that she did.
They made their careful way back down the lane, eventually turning into the drive. Their approach to the house was so slow and quiet that only Lydia spied them from an upstairs window. She rushed into the corridor and down the stairs calling that Lizzy was hurt and for someone to open the front door. Darcy, meanwhile, pulled the reins over Sirdar’s head, got Elizabeth settled in his arms, and carried her to the house. All the Bennets had gathered in the front hall as he carried her in. “Get someone to hold my horse,” he told Mrs. Hill. “I will need him to ride to the apothecary.” He turned to Mrs. Bennet. “Miss Bennet has had a fall. Her ankle is injured and she has a small cut to the head. Allow me to carry her to her chamber. She should not place any weight upon the ankle until the apothecary has seen her.” He resolved to summon his surgeon from London if the apothecary’s report was unsatisfactory.
But Mrs. Bennet had collapsed into a chair as soon as she caught sight of the blood on Elizabeth’s face. “Oh, Lizzy!” she screamed. “She has killed herself. She has injured her head! Whatever shall I do without her? Hill! Hill! Bring my smelling salts.”
Elizabeth, at the point of tears, drooped visibly and brazenly laid her head on Darcy’s shoulder. He wanted desperately to comfort her. Instead, amid the shouting and chaos, he said quietly. “Do not worry, Miss Bennet. You will be made comfortable in a few moments. I shall not leave here until I see you are quietly settled, and I shall close the door behind me.” He tightened his arms about her imperceptibly and felt her give a little sigh.
Mary Bennet stepped to the center of the fray, her mouth set in a thin, disapproving line. “Lydia, Kitty, see to our mother. Fetch her smelling salts, and when she has calmed herself, take her to her room and assist her into bed. Mrs. Hill, please follow us to my sister’s bedchamber. Mr. Darcy, if you will be good enough to follow me with Elizabeth, I shall conduct you there.”
Darcy nodded and followed Mary upstairs, turning down a narrow corridor. She opened a door at the end of it and stood aside so he could enter. He had never expected to see this room, and his eyes took it in at a glance. He saw two narrow beds covered with white counterpanes, separated by a small table. There was a cushioned window seat with several embroidered pillows, a dressing-table with mirror, a tall bureau, and off to one side a bookcase and slender escritoire.
Mary indicated the bed nearest the door, and he laid Elizabeth carefully down on it. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured.
“Miss Mary, I strongly suggest that Miss Bennet’s half-boot not be removed until the apothecary is ready to inspect the injury. However, she may be made as comfortable as possible otherwise. Elevating her foot by means of cushions or pillows may afford some relief, and there should be no harm at all in assisting her to wash her face. The wound has bled profusely and may continue to do so, however it is in the scalp, and that is an area that tends to bleed alarmingly.” He turned to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Hill, I suspect the apothecary will call for plenty of linen bandages, and he may suggest that ice be applied to the injury.” Turning back to Mary, he bowed gravely. “I shall fetch him immediately.”
As he turned to go, he looked down at Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, please accept my good wishes for your complete recovery. I shall do myself the honor of calling on your mother or your sisters tomorrow to inquire after your health.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
With another bow, he left the room and closed the door quietly but firmly behind him. He could hear Mrs. Bennet’s caterwauling from the other end of the corridor, but he paid her no mind, found his way downstairs, and left the house.
Chapter 12
Elizabeth did not see Darcy when he returned with the apothecary, although he remained downstairs awaiting an opportunity to converse with the man when he had finished his examination. He was concerned about the propriety of his interest in the health of a young lady so wholly unrelated to him, but he decided that the fact that he could report in full to her sister, Mrs. Bingley, outweighed any concern. He was, after all, on an extended visit to the Bingleys. Mr. Burnham, the apothecary, impressed Darcy as an experienced, capable man. Elizabeth’s ankle was not broken. The apothecary bound it and applied a soothing poultice, more for her comfort than anything else. The wound to her head was slight, and there was no cause for alarm. He had instructed her to rest for the remainder of the day. Beginning the next day, she could come downstairs provided one of the menservants carried her and provided she kept the injured appendage elevated. Mr. Burnham had also recommended applying ice for twenty-four hours to soothe the injury and prevent swelling. He would return early in the week to see her.
Darcy, satisfied, assured Mary that he would inform Mrs. Bingley. She thanked him gravely; then, having seen a look in his eyes that expressed friendly concern, she lost some of her reserve and went on. “Mrs. Hill is an excellent nurse, but we will be spread very thin with having to look after my mother.” She allowed herself a small sigh. “This is her normal reaction to any crisis or emergency. Lizzy deserves and needs our care, but my mother must and shall have her share.” She paused for a moment, and her shoulders stooped. “My apologies,” she went on with a small, tight smile. “I should not have burdened you with our troubles. You have been more than helpful this morning.”
“I understand completely, Miss Mary. I will inform Mrs. Bingley of the situation here at Longbourn. I am certain she will want to assist you.”
With another grave bow, Darcy left the house, finding that Sirdar had been rubbed down and baited after the morning’s exertions. He rode slowly back to Netherfield. It was just past midday, and he had a great deal to think about. James Emerson, the former steward of Elmwood, would be arriving at mid-day on the morrow for a three-day visit and interview. Darcy had great hopes of the man. Unlike the hapless young Earl, Bingley was open and amenable to instruction, intelligent, and eager to make a success of his estate. He and Darcy had agreed that they would conduct the interview jointly and that they would ride over the estate with him together and individually by turns. Darcy had made a list of points for discussion, but he needed to spend some time committing them to paper.
His thoughts returned to the morning’s adventure. He had been seriously alarmed at finding Elizabeth injured, and it had taken some mental fortitude to remain calm, to assess the situation properly, and to minister to her needs. While he was satisfied he had done all for the best, he knew that he had wanted only to snatch her up into his arms, hold her close, and kiss the hurt on her forehead the way a parent kisses a hurt child. That indefinable scent of garden flowers and herbs that clung to her had imprinted itself on his mind so that he could call it up at will. He thought perhaps he had clasped her a little too tightly as he carried her, but she had not seemed
to object. In fact, he thought—oh, yes, he thought—that she might have returned the embrace once or twice and that she had laid her head upon his shoulder at least once. He sighed. He should probably not make too much of it. Her mother had raised that hue and cry, enough to wake the dead, and Elizabeth had been suffering. At least he had been there to provide some small measure of comfort. He squared his shoulders. Her sister Jane would provide still more. At the turnoff to Netherfield, he urged Sirdar to a brisk trot.
Elizabeth, slept for several hours after the draught administered by Mr. Burnham. She awoke with only a slight headache, although her ankle still throbbed. She looked over to see Jane seated by the window with the slanting rays shining through fair hair covered by a soft lace cap. Elizabeth laughed. “Mr. Bingley is right, Jane. You do look like an angel. And I am so happy to see you.”
Jane was immediately at her bedside. “Lizzy, how are you feeling? Do not try to talk too much, dearest.”
“I feel better for having slept. My headache is all but gone, though my ankle still throbs. One thing is certain, I could eat anything set in front of me. I had not breakfasted when I had this disaster.”
“I will bring you a tray. It will not take but a few minutes.”
“But where is Mrs. Hill? Where is Susan? Oh, I remember.”
“Yes, Mama is behaving in her usual fashion. She must have her share in any disaster in the house, no matter whose. Hill and Susan are occupied with her. Truly, it is no trouble, and I will be right back.”
Jane returned with a laden supper tray. She helped Elizabeth to sit on the side of the bed and to elevate her ankle on a footstool before pulling a small table over. “Mr. Burnham said you might eat whatever you wished, so I have piled your tray high.”