Authors: M. A. Sandiford
Obtaining Mr Bennet’s consent for a trip to town had proved a struggle since, as he was not slow to point out, she had only recently returned from an outing to the Lakes—and in the Gardiners’ company, moreover. Why would she wish to set off again so soon, to visit the very same people, leaving her poor father bereft of any sensible discourse except that of Jane, who was unfortunately too depressed to say very much? Elizabeth in reply told him a little about Bridget, and the manifold cultural attractions that London offered in the coming weeks, and eventually after further grumbling he relented.
During her journey to Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth obsessively planned and replanned what she would say to Darcy, as if analysing a series of moves in a chess game. First, she would seek an opportunity to speak to him in private. Next, she would apologise for her misapprehensions at Hunsford, where she had accused him of cruelty towards Wickham. Having thus raised the topic of Wickham, she could express her gratitude for Darcy’s intervention, and give assurances of her secrecy. She foresaw several ways in which he might react. Perhaps he was still upset over her cruel rejection of his proposal, in which case she could only renew her apologies. Alternatively, he might be angry that the Gardiners had revealed his role in rescuing Lydia; however, she would make it clear that the fault lay with Lydia herself. But suppose instead that he interpreted her visit as a sign that her feelings towards him had changed, and took the opportunity to renew his addresses. What then? She decided she would have to tell him the truth, namely that although she now trusted and respected him as an honorable man, her feelings towards him as a potential husband had not altered. She still believed him to be proud, and contemptuous of his social inferiors; she still blamed him for separating Bingley from Jane—an action that epitomised his smug over-confidence in his own judgements.
Reviewing these thoughts, Elizabeth retraced her steps to the porch of Darcy House, and rang the bell.
A footman opened the door a crack. ‘Yes, madam?’
Elizabeth handed him her card. ‘My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I would like to see Mr Darcy, if he is at home.’
‘Good day, Miss Bennet.’ He studied her for a moment. ‘You have not called here before?’
‘No. Mr Darcy and I have met on a number of occasions, and since I am in London for a few days, I wished to give him my regards.’
‘I’m afraid Mr Darcy is, ah, not available at present.’
‘Can you tell me when he will return?’
‘Mr Darcy is at home, madam, but unwell, and so unable to receive visitors.’
‘I hope it is not serious.’
‘Thank you, madam. I will give him your card, and convey your best wishes.’
Noting that he had ignored her question about the seriousness of the illness, Elizabeth asked quickly, ‘Is he attended by his family and friends? Miss Darcy? Colonel Fitzwilliam?’
‘Excuse me, I had not understood you were acquainted with the family.’
‘I have met Colonel Fitzwilliam at Rosings.’
He jerked to attention, and stood aside to admit her. ‘Please come through to the drawing room, madam. I will inform Colonel Fitzwilliam of your call.’
Leaving her umbrella in the hallway, Elizabeth followed the footman to a large room, furnished in simple elegance, with the walls papered in red and gold, and a wide Persian rug in the centre of the parquet floor. It was not long before she heard Colonel Fitzwilliam’s firm step on the stairs, and she rose as he welcomed her warmly.
‘Miss Bennet, what a pleasure!’
‘It seems I have arrived at an inconvenient time.’
‘Not inconvenient, but it is true you find us somewhat in disarray.’ He sat opposite her and lowered his voice. ‘I must apologize for your reception. Burgess has instructions to admit only close associates of the family.’
Elizabeth stared at him. ‘Please tell me what has happened!’
‘Two days ago, Darcy was seriously injured. He is being attended by an excellent doctor who is confident of his eventual recovery, but for the moment he is feverish from the infection, and confined to his bed. As you can imagine, Georgiana is distraught, and has remained constantly at his bedside, even though we have arranged that a nurse is always present. I am staying here for the time being, but to tell the truth mostly for Georgiana’s sake, not Darcy’s. Without supervision we fear she would wear herself out by not taking time off to eat and sleep.’
From his tone as well as his words, Elizabeth realised that the matter must be extremely grave, and with a trembling voice she asked, ‘But how did this come about?’
‘I must ask for your confidentiality here.’ He met her eye, and waited for her nod before continuing. ‘Darcy was hurt in a duel with pistols.’
‘A duel!’
He held up a hand, and she apologised and lowered her voice. ‘So he has been shot?’
‘He took the ball in the outside of his right arm, after which it passed through to his right side, and came to rest at his ribcage. Luckily there is no damage to vital organs, and the ball has been cleanly taken out. Provided the infection can be contained, he should recover fully. However, every pistol wound is a law unto itself, so there is always danger.’
‘But why?’ A dreadful thought struck her. ‘Has this some connection with my sister and Mr Wickham?’
He stiffened. ‘You have been told of Darcy’s role in securing the marriage?’
Elizabeth explained how through Lydia’s thoughtlessness the story had been revealed to her.
He sighed. ‘No, the matter is unrelated, and I should not really elaborate at this point. You understand, Miss Bennet, that duelling is illegal, and has been so for many years. It remains common as a means of settling disputes among gentlemen, but must be practised with a certain discretion.’
Elizabeth thought this a most unsatisfactory explanation, but held back through fear of expressing her views too forcibly. For now, her concern had to be with Mr Darcy’s malaise, and not with what appeared to be the irresponsible folly of his behaviour. In a whisper, she asked, ‘May I see him?’
At the door of Darcy’s room, Colonel Fitzwilliam motioned to Elizabeth to wait while he entered alone. After about a minute he returned, accompanied by a pale girl with puffy eyes, who regarded Elizabeth warily before bobbing a curtsey.
‘Miss Bennet. This is most unexpected.’
‘Miss Darcy, although I have long wished to meet you, I am very sorry to intrude at such a time.’
Miss Darcy stared at her for a few seconds, then turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Surely we must heed Dr Lighthill’s advice and leave my brother undisturbed.’
‘I understand, Georgiana,’ he replied gently, ‘but I think a short conversation will do no harm, and might even cheer him up.’
‘Does Mr Darcy know I am here?’ Elizabeth asked.
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. ‘Yes, and he says he would like to see you.’
Elizabeth looked at Miss Darcy. ‘I promise I will keep the visit short, and take care not to upset your brother in any way.’
Miss Darcy bit her lip, as if struggling to control herself, and stared at Elizabeth again with what appeared to be a mixture of fear and distaste. ‘I do not understand what you
want
.’ Tears came to her eyes, and she looked suddenly vulnerable. ‘Cousin, I am going to my room. Excuse me, Miss Bennet, I have a headache.’ She walked stiffly away, and after an awkward silence, Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed and ushered Elizabeth into the bedroom.
It was a large room, in semi-darkness from heavy curtains drawn over all the windows, and papered above a wainscot in dark green. In a corner a nurse sat working on an embroidery. Darcy’s dark shape lay in a four-poster bed, flanked by a table holding a newspaper, some books, and a jug of ale. A chair with a leather seat and armrests had been placed a few feet from the bed.
‘Miss Bennet,’ Colonel Fitzwilliam announced. ‘I will leave you now,’ he whispered to Elizabeth, ‘but if you need me just send the nurse and I will come directly.’
Shaking, Elizabeth lowered herself into the leather chair, while Darcy with a painful effort twisted round to face her. He lay now on his back, with his head supported by two pillows so that he could see into the room. Even in the subdued light, she could see that his brow was drenched with sweat, and his face drawn with tiredness and pain. He looked at her intently for a while, as if forming a memory, and then with a frown said:
‘You have come to scold me, I suppose.’
‘No, I came with quite another purpose, although doubtless you are in great need of scolding, now as ever.’
There was a hint of a smile. ‘I thought I would never see you again.’
He looked away blinking, as if trying to retrieve a thought, then slumped back against the pillow, seemingly overcome by drowsiness. Elizabeth glanced at the nurse, whose attention remained fixed on her embroidery, before taking a folded white handkerchief from the bed and, with a trembling hand, laying it across Darcy’s forehead. His eyes opened a fraction and he inhaled deeply, giving her the uncomfortable sensation that he was absorbing her scent. After another anxious glance at the nurse, she dabbed his brow gently and retreated to the relative safety of the chair.
‘Why did you come?’ he murmured.
She longed to unburden herself by explaining the real reason for her visit—her intense need to thank him, on behalf of her family, for his rescue of Lydia. However, she knew he had wished his intervention to remain a secret from her, and with Georgiana’s admonition fresh in her mind said instead:
‘To apologise for my foolish error at Hunsford, when I accused you of wronging Mr Wickham. I have long been heartily ashamed of my unkindness and lack of judgement.’
The tension on his face eased a little. ‘I feared you would destroy my letter unread.’
‘On the contrary, sir, I studied it with great attention.’
‘Fitzwilliam said you did not consult him that day.’
‘There was no need. Your explanation was entirely convincing.’
He drifted away again, as if exhausted by this effort, and she was wondering whether to take her leave when he asked, ‘You are well? Your parents are in good health?’
‘Yes, thank you, sir. I have just returned from a most enjoyable trip to the Lakes, in the company of my aunt and uncle.’
‘It is a lovely spot.’
Welcoming the haven of a safe topic, she elaborated on the beauties of Claife and the other places they had visited around Windermere.
‘And did you make new friends on your travels?’
She wondered whether to mention Bridget Beaumont, but instead said teasingly, ‘I did meet one interesting gentleman, far more distinguished than you.’
This brought the hint of a smile. ‘There are many such men.’
‘His name was Mr Wordsworth. He writes poetry, I believe.’
‘You met Wordsworth? That is an honour indeed.’ His eyes glazed over again, and she feared she was over-tiring him when he murmured, ‘Five years have passed; five summers, with the length of five long winters!’
She smiled. ‘And again I hear these waters, rolling from their mountain-springs with a sweet inland murmur.’
‘Once again do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs.’
‘Which on a wild secluded scene express—no,
impress
thoughts of more deep seclusion.’
He regarded her, and with relief she saw the pain on his face softened by happiness. ‘It’s such a delight, Miss Bennet, to hear those lines spoken in your voice. Can you go on?’
‘My memory has run out, Mr Darcy, but if I may visit again, I will equip myself with a copy of
Lyrical Ballads
so that I can read to you.’
Before leaving, Elizabeth sought out Colonel Fitzwilliam to inform him of her decision to withhold, for the time being, her knowledge of Darcy’s assistance to her family. She also pressed him for further details of the duel, but learned only that Darcy’s opponent had also sustained an injury. Miss Darcy, unfortunately, was still resting in her room, so there was no opportunity to reassure her that the meeting with Darcy had passed agreeably with no upset or strain.
All politeness as usual, Colonel Fitzwilliam offered the use of Darcy’s landau for the return journey to Cheapside, but since the weather remained fine she opted to continue on foot to the Beaumont town house in Cavendish Square. During the walk she resolved not to mention Darcy to Bridget, at least not yet. As to the duel, she would tell no-one except for the Gardiners. In the event the issue did not arise, since Bridget was out, and not expected to return until evening. Deflated, Elizabeth left her card along with a brief message.
Next morning, Elizabeth was excited to learn that a note had been left for her, but the hand, although faintly familiar, was not Bridget’s. News of Darcy, perhaps? Opening it quickly, she read the following:
4 Montague Place
Dear Miss Eliza Bennet
My brother was naturally surprised to hear from Georgiana that you had called at Darcy House. We had received no information that you were in town. It would of course be inappropriate for us to inconvenience your aunt and uncle by coming to Gracechurch Street, but if you would like to pass by this afternoon you will find us at home—shall we say at three o’clock?
Yours very sincerely, Caroline Bingley
Elizabeth read this message several times, in some perplexity. Why should Caroline Bingley, of all people, conceive such an urgent desire to renew their acquaintance? The tone was scarcely friendly—on the contrary, Miss Bingley had contrived within a few lines to deliver several pin-pricks, all no doubt carefully designed: the hint that Elizabeth’s visit to Darcy House was somehow uncalled for, her failure to communicate her presence in town, the clumsy excuse for not coming to Cheapside. No, the source of the invitation must be Bingley himself; but if so from what motive?
On arriving punctually that afternoon, Elizabeth was disappointed to learn that Bingley was away, leaving her to make do with the forced politeness of Caroline and her sister, Mrs Hurst. Once they were seated in the drawing room, with refreshments ordered, it was not long before hostilities opened.