An Engaging Friendship

by AmyJ

  take some tea. “Do you plan to travel at all, Mrs. Darcy,” Miss Sutton asked, reviving the conversation.

  “I believe we shall be visiting the Lakes for a bit,” Elizabeth replied “but most of our time will be spent at Pemberley.”

  “I do adore Pemberley this time of year,” Miss Bingley enthused, with a

  plaintive smile towards Elizabeth. Mrs. Hurst quickly seconded the notion.

  “Miss Sutton has never visited, but who could not appreciate such a fine

  estate?” Mrs. Hurst added.

  There was more discussion on the splendours of Pemberley before Elizabeth

  inquired after Miss Sutton’s plans for the summer. Miss Bingley and Mrs.

  Hurst’s veiled attempts at an invitation to Pemberley became even clearer when Miss Sutton spoke of plans to stay with friends in Somerset and Devon. It

  appeared the other two ladies were likely to be stuck at their brother’s estate without an invitation to Pemberley.

  Nearly a week had passed since Elizabeth and Darcy’s argument. Darcy had

  received word that Bingley had returned to Hertfordshire as planned, and had taken Miss Bingley with him, shedding new light on Miss Bingley’s attempts

  to secure an invitation to Pemberley or anywhere else.

  Elizabeth, Darcy and Georgiana were in the sun parlour, eating lunch, when

  Mr. Cardwell entered with a message for Darcy. “The messenger is waiting for a response.”

  Darcy’s brow furrowed, and he tore open the message, easily recognizing Lord Matlock’s handwriting. He felt his blood drain to the floor upon reading. In an effort to gather himself, he pretended to continue reading. The news was not good.

  “What is it, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I… am needed at Lanelle House, immediately.” He handed the missive to his wife.

  Elizabeth gasped and tears welled in her eyes as she read. Together, husband and wife reached for Georgiana.

  “Tell my uncle I will be there shortly, and have Franklin pack a few days’ worth of clothes.” Darcy ordered to the nearby servant. Turning to Georgiana, he said,

  “It was from Uncle Marcus. Richard is on his way home.” Seeing Georgiana’s

  eyes light up made his next words even more difficult. “Pea Head, he was

  injured. We do not yet know how severely. I am going to Lanelle House, where I suspect Uncle Marcus and I will leave for the ports as soon as possible.”

  Tears immediately gathered in the young girl’s eyes, and Elizabeth squeezed her hand. “We must not get ahead of ourselves.” she said soothingly. “Richard will have a good laugh at us if he finds out how we carried on for nothing more than a twisted ankle.”

  Georgiana nodded, but the tears continued to flow.

  Anxious to be on his way, he exchanged a look with Elizabeth. Silently they agreed Darcy should go, and that Elizabeth would stay with Georgiana.

  “I will send word as soon as may be.” Darcy said, before giving them both a quick kiss on the head.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  After seeing her husband off, Elizabeth returned to the music room, where

  Georgiana was attempting to distract herself at the pianoforte.

  The two exchanged forced smiles before Elizabeth took a seat at the nearby

  writing desk. For several moments, she simply let the music wash over her,

  calming her bevy of emotions. Then, taking out a quill and some paper, she

  began to write. There were a number of invitations that she would now have to decline, but those could wait; a more important letter required her attention first.

  Jane was to arrive at Arryndale in a se’nnight, but with today’s news, that would be impossible. No matter Colonel Fitzwilliam’s condition, the Darcys

  would likely take this opportunity to retire to Langford or Pemberley.

  With hopes that Jane could find accommodations with the Gardiners, she put

  ink to the parchment.

  Arryndale House, London

  June 1, 18—

  Jane,

  Forgive the brevity of this letter, but time is of the essence.

  Unfortunately I write with ill tidings.

  We have just received word Colonel Fitzwilliam has been injured in

  battle. The extent of his injuries and condition is unknown; we have

  only been told he is on a ship bound for England. Fitzwilliam and

  Lord Matlock left this morning for the Cinque Ports. If the colonel is

  well enough to travel, they will transport him to the Fitzwilliam

  home in Matlock.

  Georgiana and I are to close up Arryndale and will join the family. I

  do not believe I will be able to receive you when you are in London. I

  am sorry. I will write as soon as I know more. Until then,

  Elizabeth Darcy

  She reread the letter, paying special attention to its wording. She did not wish to worry her sister, but there was no gentle way to explain why a stay at

  Arryndale on her way to visit Charlotte Collins at Hunsford was impossible.

  Satisfied with the epistle, she sanded, folded, and with a sigh, sealed it. She was very much looking forward to Jane’s visit. They had not had much time to speak in private before the ball, and now, more than ever, Elizabeth was

  curious as to where Jane’s affections tended. Had Mr. Bingley apologized, and had he been successful in his endeavours? Or was Jane’s heart pulled towards a certain colonel in his Majesty’s army, as Elizabeth suspected?

  The music came to a stop, and Elizabeth clapped quietly in appreciation. “That was beautiful, Georgiana.”

  “It is one of Richard’s favourites,” came the sullen reply.

  Elizabeth stood, then took a seat next to her sister. “He will be glad to know you have been practising it. He will surely wish to hear it when you see him next.”

  Georgiana gave a small nod, obviously wondering if there would be a next

  time.

  Attempting to pull the girl, and herself, from such morose thoughts, Elizabeth engaged Georgiana into some more playful duets, and for a short time, the

  distraction was sufficient. However, the day wore on, and the absence of

  Fitzwilliam from the dinner table brought the gravity of the situation back full force.

  Darcy and Lord Matlock rode in silence towards the ports. Despite the gentle wind, both men and beasts had worked up a good lather. Still, they continued onward. There would be no stopping until a ship’s mast could be seen.

  Not surprisingly, when they arrived, they found the area surrounding the

  Cinque Ports teeming with activity. Three naval ships could be seen in the

  harbour, along with a few merchant and passenger ships. Finding it

  increasingly difficult to navigate the area on horseback, Darcy and his uncle stabled their horses, and made the rest of the way to the docks on foot.

  The trek was slow; soldiers, both wounded and healthy, men, women, and

  children of every class bumped shoulders with them, and that was to say

  nothing of the noise. The din of the area rivalled that of town; heartfelt cries of joy mingled with the ear piercing wallows of anguish and sorrow, and over all of that were the bellows of shop keepers and dock workers.

  Darcy and Lord Matlock made several inquiries about the location of the

  wounded, and were finally directed by a young lad towards the warehouses.

  Cutting their way through the bustling crowd, they made their way to a large, red brick building where a number of wounded men could be seen exiting.

  They entered, and were nearly knocked backward from the sounds and smells

  contained within it. The stench of rotting flesh and fresh blood was coupled with groans of pain.

  Simultaneously, Darcy and Lord Matlock reached for handkerchiefs, using

  them to cover their noses and mouths. That Colonel Fitzwilliam
was amongst

  this!

  There was a brief exchange of grim nods before they continued on their

  mission. Cot after cot, row after row, the two searched for the colonel.

  Not meeting with any success, a change in plans was required. With little

  discussion, it was decided that Lord Matlock would continue searching for

  Richard, while Darcy looked for the man in charge.

  Unfortunately, Darcy found his new goal almost as impossible as his previous one. The area was incredibly understaffed, and whoever was in charge was

  either not about, or was one of the handful of people tending to the scores of wounded.

  As he was walking down one of the lines of cots, he was approached by an

  elderly woman. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said with a low bow. “Officers are in the warehouse next door.”

  “I am looking for Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” Darcy said by way of inquiry.

  “I am sorry, sir. I do not know that name. All officers are next door though, sir.”

  Darcy nodded and flipped the woman a half crown in thanks, and after relaying the information to his uncle, the two headed for the exit.

  The next warehouse, while busy, was not nearly so crowded. Darcy could not help but note that despite having fewer patients, there were more doctors and women on hand to tend to them. It brought a little relief, but very little. The place was still in a state of disarray, and though the number had been greatly reduced, it would not be easy to find his cousin amongst the sea of nameless cots.

  Some long minutes passed before the colonel was found, and the gravity of his situation was both better and worse than feared. He was alive, but from the looks of things, only by the grace of God. What little of Colonel Richard

  Fitzwilliam’s face was not wrapped in bandages was flush with fever; below

  the thin blanket that covered him, a splint all along his leg could be made out, and it appeared his shoulder was also wounded.

  With a tenderness Darcy had never seen from his uncle, Lord Matlock kneeled next to his son and took his hand. “Richard.” Lord Matlock whispered.

  Silently, Darcy went in search of one of the doctors, giving father and son a few moments alone. After sufficient time had passed, Darcy, with a doctor in tow, returned to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s side.

  “He contracted a fever aboard the ship,” the doctor said with a weary shrug.

  “Or so I have been told. Not sure how long he’s been this way.”

  “Will he live?” Lord Matlock asked. His brow was deeply creased in concern.

  “A cool cloth would help with the fever, but we are short of supplies.” He

  looked around the room, “And nurses.” Nothing more needed to be said, it was all in the doctor’s expression. There was no one to provide the care Richard required, and if it was not already too late, without such attention, survival was unlikely.

  “Can he be moved?” Lord Matlock asked.

  “It is risky,” the doctor replied, “but he managed to survive the ship.”

  Lord Matlock exchanged a look with Darcy. It did not take a genius to guess his uncle’s thoughts. Though the idea made Darcy cringe, it was in his cousin’s best interest. “I will arrange transportation, and send a missive to her ladyship, informing her of our arrival,” Darcy said.

  Lord Matlock nodded in thanks. “I shall write Catherine though, Darcy. Send the rider to me with a pencil and paper.”

  While Darcy and Lord Matlock, with a listless and injured Colonel Fitzwilliam, were slowly making their way to Rosings, Elizabeth was busy seeing to the last minute details that were required for closing Arryndale. The express she had received that morning from her husband, while bearing some good news, had

  also included a summons for her and Georgiana to Rosings.

  Dearest Elizabeth,

  Forgive the brevity of this note, but know you are never far from my thoughts.

  Lord Matlock and I have seen Richard. He has sustained some

  injuries, but only time will tell their severity. Though he is feverish, we have decided to move him to Rosings, where he will be able to get

  better medical care.

  Close Arryndale, and bring Georgiana with you to Rosings.

  Lord Matlock is penning similar missives to Lord Fitzwilliam, who is

  in residence at Langford, and Lady Matlock.

  I await your arrival, my Beth.

  F.D.

  Elizabeth and Georgiana parted ways that morning, each preferring solitude to putting on airs of contentment. Elizabeth sat at her desk, diligently writing a few last minute missives. There were a several friends she had been unable to take her leave of in person, and not wishing to give offense, resolved to send her apologies via courier.

  Somewhat haphazardly spinning the quill between her fingers, she stared at the blank page in front of her, contemplating her words. Outside her parlour, she could hear servants moving to and fro, carrying out her orders; checking

  carriages, closing rooms, and packing trunks.

  Despite the heavy activity, the house felt empty. He was but a half a day’s journey away, and yet it felt as though he were on the other side of world! With a light snicker, she pushed those thoughts aside. How her father would tease her if he could see her now!

  Returning to the task at hand, she signed her name, sealed the missive and

  moved on the next one. A few more, and she could in good conscience be on

  her way to Kent.

  “Marcus.” Lady Catherine greeted. With a frosty glare, she nodded to Darcy.

  “Fitzwilliam.” She introduced the doctor, and then at her signal, four footmen made their way to the wagon. Under the eagle eye of their superiors, the

  footmen carefully moved Colonel Fitzwilliam to a room that had been prepared for him.

  As they waited for the doctor’s prognosis, Lord Matlock, Darcy and Lady

  Catherine gathered in a nearby parlour. It was a smallish room, and though its location ensured it would only be used by family, its ostentatious décor made it anything but comfortable.

  Making do, Darcy poured himself and his uncle some restorative as they listened to Lady Catherine soliloquize on what she perceived to be the proper course of care for her nephew, and extolled the praise of her doctor. “He has been serving the de Bourghs for several years, as had his father before him.”

  She then went on to tell all that she had done in preparation.

  “I have prepared your usual rooms.” She turned to Darcy. “Georgiana will be arriving, I presume.” Though the words were ones of inquiry, Lady Catherine’s tone made it clear she expected nothing less.

  “Of course,” Darcy replied. “Georgiana will arrive with Elizabeth this

  afternoon.”

  With vehemence that surprised both Lord Matlock and Darcy, Lady Catherine

  exclaimed, “You dare to bring that woman to my home! Have you no

  decency?”

  “As Elizabeth is my wife…”

  “Is it not enough for you disappoint Anne? Must you flaunt that upstart in front of her?” Lady Catherine interrupted.

  “I never gave Anne any indication that we would be wed.” Darcy ground out.

  “Nor is it my intention to exacerbate her disappointment, if she is, indeed, suffering misguided hopes. Elizabeth is my wife, and shall stay with me and my sister.”

  “I forbid it!” Lady Catherine stated as a matter of fact. Her chin rose in

  challenge.

  Darcy looked to his uncle, who had opened his mouth, no doubt to weigh in as head of the family. However, not wishing to hear his uncle’s thoughts on the subject, one way or another, Darcy cut him off. “Then as soon as there is word from the doctor, I shall go about finding other accommodations.”

  “What of your duty to your family? You will make us carry the burden of

  Richard’s care alone?” She looked to Lord Matlock, clearly expecting her


  brother to take her side. Lord Matlock hesitated for a moment, but then simply turned and looked out the window.

  Darcy replied as calmly as possible, “It is not my preference, but I will not allow you to insult either my wife, or myself, any further.”

  “Very well, Darcy,” Lady Catherine sniffed. “It is clear you have lost all sense of duty and propriety. I will not allow the same to happen to Georgiana. She shall stay at Rosings, where she will have the company of women more fitting her station.”

  Seething, Darcy stared down his aunt with a penetrating glare. “I am

  Georgiana’s guardian. She will stay with me. If you wish her at Rosings, then you will also welcome my wife.”

  Lady Catherine was about to say something more, but just then, the doctor interrupted with a loud clearing of his throat. All eyes turned to him, and for a moment, the previous argument was forgotten. “He is weak from the fever, but I did not find any other signs of infection. I have done all I can for him,” the doctor reported.

  Lord Matlock asked, “Will he live?”

  The doctor drew in a deep breath of hesitation. “It is too early to tell. Colonel Fitzwilliam is strong though. If the fever can be brought under control, his chances of survival are greater. Beyond that, I dare not venture a guess.”

  There was a collective nod of understanding before Lord Matlock stepped

  forward and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “I will stop by again in the morning. My residence is not far, should you

  require my services this evening.” With a low bow, the doctor exited as quickly as he had appeared. Lord Matlock, too, hastened to excuse himself in favour of his son’s room.

  Before Lady Catherine could say a word, Darcy stood tall, and with a piercing glare, said, “I shall bring Georgiana to visit daily, but neither she nor I will remain under this roof, until you give my wife her due.” Not waiting for a

  response, he turned and headed for his cousin’s room.

  When the Darcy coach arrived at Rosings, Darcy was outside, waiting.

  Elizabeth smiled at him in greeting, which he returned with a brief one of his own. Instead of handing her down, however, he climbed into the carriage.

  “There is a small town with an inn but a few miles from here. We will be

  staying there.”