by Ola Wegner
Elizabeth presented a toothy smile at the physician’s expression and then murmured. “I just twisted my ankle.”
“Just the ankle,“ Mr. Aiken sat on the chair which Jane pushed over for him. “Well, well, it is not that bad then. We have seen worse things on your part, have we not?” He looked around the room full of people, including all the Bennets, sans Mr. Bennet, who was expected to return from London any day, and Darcy, who still stood firmly by the bedside.
“May I be alone with the patient?” he asked.
Mrs. Bennet began pushing everyone out, when they physician glanced at Jane. “Miss Bennet will stay to help me, if necessary.”
Stubbornly, Darcy did not move from his post by Elizabeth’s side, eyeing the greying man somehow suspiciously.
Mr. Aiken raised his bushy eyebrows. “This gentleman?”
As Darcy did not react, Jane walked up to him, “Mr. Darcy, I think it would be better if you waited outside, or perhaps took tea in the parlour with all of us.” She took his arm and attempted to pull him decidedly towards the door.
Elizabeth looked at him. “Please, go with Jane.”
Darcy allowed himself to be walked out, while the physician lifted Elizabeth’s skirts and slowly examined the bruised, though no longer bleeding, knee and the ankle. He tried to bend the leg, and when Elizabeth hissed in pain, he said, “Aha.”
He dressed the small wound on the knee and said. “Four weeks in bed.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “No!” she cried.
“Yes.” He nodded. “And I will have to stabilize the knee, put the left leg into a brace to lessen movement. I do not like this swelling.”
“But four weeks?” Elizabeth pleaded.
Mr. Aiken’s face turned sober, and he asked very seriously, “You do not want to become a cripple, do you?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“We shall see to it that she does not walk.” Jane assured, giving her sister a meaningful stare.
“Good.” He closed his bag and moved to the door. “I will be back shortly, and no moving from that bed.” He wagged his finger at Elizabeth.
When Mr. Aiken opened the door, he found Darcy was waiting outside in the corridor.
Jane found it to be the appropriate time to introduce both men. “Mr. Aiken, this is Mr. Darcy, my sister’s intended. Mr. Darcy, this is our physician, Mr. Aiken. He has treated our family as long as I can remember.”
Darcy bowed his head with respect. “My pleasure. How is she?”
The physician glanced at the tall, sober looking young man. “Her ankle should heal within few days, but as for the knee, I will have to stabilize the left leg. It may be nothing, but contrary to the bones in the calves or arms, I cannot really feel whether something is broken, or dislodged, inside the knee. As a precaution, she should not walk or move it for about a month or, at least, till the swelling goes down and she has no pain in it.
Darcy listened intently and then bowed again. “Thank you.”
“I will return with the braces,” Mr. Aiden added and moved down the corridor, with Jane following him.
Darcy walked inside the room and closed the door. Elizabeth did not look at him; she only stared out the window. He sat on the edge of her bed.
“I am so sorry you are hurt and in pain,” he started. “I feel guilty...”
She turned her face to look at him. “The fault is entirely mine,” she interrupted him. “I cannot walk properly without hurting myself, it seems. Silly, silly me,” she murmured, exasperated, “Now, I will have to spend four weeks closed up in my room at home. I do not know how I will stand this,” she sighed miserably as she looked out the window again at the sunny day.
Darcy took her hand in both of his. Surprised, she gave him a long look, “Are you not angry with me?”
He shifted closer, his eyes serious. “I could ask you the same question.”
She shrugged, “I am usually angry... or rather irritated with you for one reason or another. For example, when you are so rude towards my mother.” She looked straight into his eyes, “I know that Mama is silly, and perhaps not the most intelligent woman in England, but she has a good heart, and she always means well. She is never purposely hurtful or cruel, never that. She is a good mother and would do everything for my sisters and me, and I think that she deserves some respect, if only for that. When you simply ignore her, as you do most of the time, and do not even bother to answer her questions civilly, you are hurting her and hurting me.”
Elizabeth glanced out the window again, and she did not see how Darcy lowered his head, his forehead furrowed.
After a moment, she added quietly, “I wonder sometimes whether your parents taught you such behaviour towards people. Perhaps things are different with the aristocracy.”
He did not say anything to her words, and she understood his reactions in her own way.
“You have every right to be displeased with me now, after I have criticized you so... and all that I said about your family.”
“You have given me a lot of to think about, to be sure,” he said at last.
Elizabeth lowered herself onto the bed from a sitting position to a lying one and turned on her side, careful not to bend the injured knee. “I am tired after getting up so early. I will try to nap till the doctor returns,” she whispered.
Darcy looked around and found a knitted blanket folded on Jane’s bed. He reached for it and draped it over her.
She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep, but relaxed only when she heard his steps on the wooden floor, as he left the room.
***
Elizabeth sighed, her eyes wide open, staring into the dark night.
“Lizzy, are you well?” she heard her sister’s sleepy voice coming from the nearby bed.
“I am well, Jane,” she whispered back.
“You sighed several times. I have thought perhaps your leg may be getting worse,” Jane murmured.
“No, no, I am sorry I have disturbed you. Go back to sleep.”
Jane rolled onto her other side.
Elizabeth could not sleep, not so much because of the slight lingering pain in her knee, but from all the thoughts which had invaded her mind and refused to go away and let her rest. She was furious with herself. Her mother was right; she had behaved like a child, injuring herself in such a stupid way, not looking where she was going. Her punishment was acute indeed, and she deserved it, forced to stay at home for a month, not being able to even move on her own.
There was Darcy too. She had told him everything she had against him. At first she had felt relieved, and even, in a way, proud of herself. However, very soon, the feelings of guilt came to her. She felt that she had said too much and had been unkind. She knew that he cared for her; her words must have pained him. She acted like Caroline Bingley's sort would have, spiteful and harsh. He had been wrong about Jane, but she should not have reacted so strongly. She might have attempted to resolve it in a gentler way. Even after she fell down, he had been only kind and caring, when she was cold and aloof, pushing him away.
That was what she had been doing for the last weeks, keeping him at distance, pushing him away. She had to admit that for most of the time, especially when they were alone, he was very good to her, and tried so hard to please her. He had even offered to invite the Gardiners to Pemberley, though he had never met them before.
She had allowed him to believe that she cared for him when she accepted him. Consequently, she should be treating him accordingly, even if she felt less. She was responsible for him now, not only for hurting his feelings, but, more importantly, for his happiness.
***
Due to all the late night's thinking, Elizabeth overslept the next day. When she woke up at nearly ten in the morning, Jane told her that the Darcys were already waiting to see her.
She did her best to hurry with her toilette and breakfast, which took twice as long as usual. It was only after eleven when she was ready to admit her guests, sitting on top of her made bed,
covered with a pretty lace coverlet.
Georgiana came in, but there was no sign of her brother.
The girl walked near her bed. “Miss Elizabeth, I was so distressed when my brother told me what happened to you yesterday.” She spoke with genuine compassion.
“I am well, but please, I thought we had agreed to use our first names.” Elizabeth patted the place beside her.
Georgiana sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you in pain?”
“No, not now, when the leg is in these braces.” Elizabeth uncovered her leg so Georgiana could see a stocking clad leg clasped in wooden boards. “It pains me only when I try to bend the leg.”
The girl touched the braces with gentle fingers. “I am so sorry it happened to you.”
“It was my own fault, I am afraid. It only serves me right though. I will be looking where I place my feet now.”
Georgiana leaned forward confidentially. “Brother was so worried yesterday. I have not seen him so concerned for a very...” Georgiana paused, her expression even more clouded, “very long time now. He closed himself in his room for the entire evening. I doubt whether he slept much either.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “Has he come with you?”
Georgiana nodded. “Yes, he is waiting outside in the corridor. I think that he was reluctant to invade the privacy of your bedroom, because he did not want to walk in with me when Miss Jane invited us upstairs.”
“Could you please ask him to come here?”
Jane stood up from her chair. “I will go.”
Elizabeth thanked her with her eyes. Then she looked at Georgiana and smiled, at the same time twisting her hands nervously.
Darcy walked in soon, with Jane following him, sober looking, to say the least.
He bowed, walked to the bed and asked, “Are you feeling better today?”
Elizabeth managed a weak smile. “Much better, thank you.”
Darcy said nothing more and walked to the window to stare out of it, turning his back to the company. All three ladies looked at him, before Elizabeth turned to Georgiana and spoke in lowered voice, “Would you be so kind to leave us alone for a moment?” She gave the girl a pleading look. “Jane, could you please...?”
“We will go to Mary’s room.” Jane proposed in a decided, but kind, voice, “She has wanted to show Miss Darcy her collection of music sheets for a long time now, I believe.”
As they were left alone, just two of them, Darcy turned from the window.
“Are you truly better?” he asked, standing some distance from her bed.
“I am truly well, only angry with myself for this.” She pointed to her leg. “I cannot imagine how I will be able to stay like this for four weeks.”
Darcy nodded. “I am pleased you are not in pain.”
Elizabeth shook her head and whispered. “No, I am not.” she gave him a long look. Her heart squeezed, he looked terrible, so pale, his face drawn.
She reached out her hand. “Please, come and be seated here.”
He seemed reluctant to do as she asked, but he stepped to her bed and sat down on the edge, his back straight.
Elizabeth did not know what to say, what words to use, so she leaned forward and hooked her arms around his neck tightly. “I am sorry. Please, forgive me for being unkind yesterday and for the last days. I am not proud of my behaviour,” she whispered into his neck.
She did not wait long until he returned the embrace, bringing her to him.
“I cannot bear when you hate me,” he murmured, his voice cracking.
“I do not, I do not.” she assured and pulled away from him to see his face; his dark brown eyes were suspiciously misty.
She ran her fingers from his dark, mussed hair to his temple and down his cheek, then placed gentle kisses on the places that she had just touched.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be caressed for a moment, but soon he sought her lips. Elizabeth accepted the kiss and once again wound her hand around his neck. He kissed her gently, just lightly tugging at her lower and upper lips. Determined to show him her new, changed attitude, she closed her eyes tightly and, in her opinion, very awkwardly attempted to push her tongue between his lips.
He stiffened for a short moment, then to her great embarrassment, she heard him chuckle. She broke the kiss, blushing, hiding her eyes from his, her face turned to the side. He did not allow it, and taking the initiative, he caught her lips with his and deepened the kiss. She was aware how important it was now not to push him away this time. He should feel her willingness to be convinced that she was sincere in her assertions.
So overwhelmed with the deep, passionate kisses, she barely noticed when he pushed her down on the bed. Finally she tore her lips away, needing some air.
She was breathing deeply, staring at the white painted ceiling as he sucked on the skin of her neck, his hand in her hair, combing through her locks, loosening hairpins. When his hand rested heavily on her breast, she whimpered at the shocking pleasure it caused within her. She gasped, panted and strained against his hand as he squeezed her bosom. She had no stays on today, so there were only her dress and the thin chemise underneath, separating his warm hand from her flesh.
She felt that she desperately needed something, needed more, and tried to lift her lower body against him in a silent plea. She wanted him closer.
The next moment she was all alone on the bed, his weight suddenly taken off her, when he jumped from her as if she had been made of hot iron.
Slowly, she sat up, trying to compose herself. She touched her swollen lips.
“Damn, I should have known better by this time,” Darcy murmured, as he paced the room.
“I hurt all over,” she complained, touching her aching breasts.
He laughed shortly. “I know what you mean.”
He walked to the washstand and wet the towel. Then sat next to her and put the cool material against her hot face.
“You should not trust me,” he said.
“But I do,” she protested.
“Elizabeth, this must stop.” His voice was so harsh that she startled, “The fault is entirely mine, but we cannot carry on like this,” he added more gently as he put the towel away and reached to her loosened locks, deftly pushing the hairpins into the right places. “One of our sisters might have come upon us at any moment.”
“I just wanted to show you that I...” she looked at him, troubled, “I wanted to be close.”
“I know, but we do not even have a wedding date settled, and I cannot allow you to be round with our babe at our wedding. You deserve better.”
Her soft mouth fell open, “But we have not...”
“We certainly have.” He cut her off. “Had it not been your leg, and the fact that the door is open...” He raked his hand through his hair. “You must promise me that next time I try touch your breasts, you will slap my hand.”
She looked up at him docilely, “I liked how you touched me,” she admitted.
He groaned. “Elizabeth, you are not making it easier for me.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I am trying to protect you, do you understand?” He shook her gently.
She stared at him, wide eyed, and slowly shook her head, and mouthed, „No.”
He laughed, kissed the top of her head, and marched to the door. “I am going to fetch our sisters. We are safe with them.”
She plopped on the bed with a loud sigh when he left. She touched her breast, and then her hand moved low on her belly, causing her to shiver. She was so relieved he was not angry with her. She preferred not to think what she would do if he took offence and simply walked away from her life forever. She certainly did not like the idea.
Chapter Twelve
“No, Lizzy, not like that,” Jane said as she pointed to the seam that Elizabeth was working on. “Look, the material is all wrinkled around the letter ‘F.’ You need to undo it and start from the beginning.”
“I will never have it right,” Elizabeth sighed in frustration.
“You are doing well; just a bit of patience is necessary on such a task,” Jane soothed.
Elizabeth began to unravel the ‘FD’ monogram embroidered in the fine cotton with the help of her small scissors, murmuring to herself. “I hate needlework. I hate it.”
“Ever more reason Mr. Darcy will be very pleased with his present,” her sister noted.
“I doubt it, Jane; I truly do.” Elizabeth looked critically at the now partially destroyed initials. “He is always so neat and surely will not like to use such uneven, poorly trimmed handkerchiefs.”
“Nonsense,” Jane dismissed her worry. “He would wear a potato sack if you told him you sewed it especially for him.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are making fun of me!” she accused.
Jane only glanced at her from behind her long, dark blonde eyelashes, her expression completely serious. “Want to make a wager on that?”
Elizabeth shook her head at her sister’s teasing and, with a new found energy, cleared the area of cloth completely to start embroidering the FD initials anew.
A few days ago, she had mentioned to her mother and Jane that she had felt embarrassed with all the gifts Mr. Darcy brought her almost daily, from books to chocolates, flowers and other small trinkets. Understandably, she could not repay his generosity, as trips to Meryton were impossible for her due to her still healing ankle and knee. Then Jane had proposed that Elizabeth could make a set of embroidered handkerchiefs for Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Bennet had acclaimed the idea, and the same day, together with Jane, they had taken a carriage and gone to Meryton to shop for the cloth. They had returned with two yards of expensive white cotton, and Elizabeth had no excuse now but to start working on the project.
There was a noise in the corridor, a door smacked loudly and someone ran down the corridor. A second later, her door flew wide open, and Kitty Bennet, red faced and teary eyed, stepped in.
“Jane, Jane, tell Mama that it is so unfair!” the girl cried from the doorstep.
“What happened, Kitty? What is unfair?” Jane stood up from her place by the window beside Elizabeth.