Chapter 34
Drawing Room
Netherfield Hall
Elizabeth Bennet stirred the logs in the hearth, causing the fire to leap up satisfactorily.
The room was already quite warm, but Caroline Bingley, huddled in the wingbacked chair closest to the fire with a cup of steaming tea in her hand, was shaking.
Probably her chill was from the shock of her near abduction rather than anything else.
“That disgusting man,” Lydia snarled, marching up and down the blue and green Oriental carpet. “How dare he? And to think I used to believe him the most handsome and charming man of my acquaintance!”
Elizabeth carefully placed the poker in its appropriate place and turned a thoughtful look on her youngest sister. Lydia’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes flashed fire, which to Elizabeth’s experienced eyes indicated anger as opposed to horror.
Not that Lydia was very prone to being horrified. She strode through life with an insouciance that often frustrated her sensible relations. Today Elizabeth found her confidence a great relief; Caroline was distressed enough without Lydia also becoming hysterical.
“You saved me, Lydia,” Caroline croaked tearily. “Thank you so much!”
Lydia wandered over to the fire and said, “Oh, but it was thanks to you that I am such a good shot, Caroline! I knew that from such a short distance I could easily hit Wickham without risk to you. Indeed, if you had been a little farther from him, I would have shot right through his foul heart. What a fiend!”
Elizabeth winced and turned a thoughtful eye on her sister. Was it, she wondered, worthwhile to suggest that Lydia not speak quite so murderously about the lieutenant? She was aware that Wickham might die from being shot, and if so, Lydia might be in trouble…
But no, she would not be in trouble. Wickham was the villain here. He had attacked a lady and attempted to abduct her. Let Lydia snarl her imprecations at the nefarious lieutenant. The good people of Meryton were more likely to arrange for a parade than to condemn Lydia for her actions.
The door opened suddenly, and Elizabeth turned as Jane and Charles Bingley rushed through it, summoned by the frantic message Elizabeth had sent to Longbourn some minutes earlier.
Caroline lifted weeping eyes to her brother and his wife and allowed herself to dissolve into hysterics. Jane was on her knees in a moment, wrapping comforting arms around the shivering lady, while Charles turned wide eyes on Elizabeth.
“Whatever happened?” he demanded.
Elizabeth explained concisely, interrupted only by the occasional cry of horror from Charles.
“Perhaps I ought to ride after Darcy and the colonel,” he said fiercely.
Elizabeth glanced at the clock and said, “It has been an hour since they left, Charles. I am confident that they have the situation well in hand by now.”
She was pleased that her voice remained steady in spite of the rapid beating of her heart. Wickham was wounded, and Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy were intelligent men. They would be well enough, she knew.
She hoped.
She was afraid, she realized. She was desperately in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy, and Wickham was doubtless like a cornered animal now, and animals had teeth.
“Elizabeth?” Jane said.
She looked over to her elder sister who said, “Will you help me assist Caroline to her room? I think she would be more comfortable in bed.”
Elizabeth stepped forward with alacrity. Caroline would be better off beneath sheets, and helping her sister by marriage upstairs would keep her mind off of her worries for Mr. Darcy.
***
Mr. Jones’s House
Meryton
Mr. Jones looked down on George Wickham, who was lying on his left side, the fluted arrow jutting out of his body a full two feet.
“A very serious injury,” the apothecary said, frowning through his spectacles. “Mr. Wickham, if you would lean forward a little, ah yes, I see it has penetrated through … erm, yes…”
“It is all the way through?” Wickham yelped, his already pale skin growing paler. “Dear God, please get it out of me. Quickly!”
Jones said, “I will need the help of my two men. Give me a moment to prepare.”
Darcy looked at Richard, who nodded once, and then he retreated out of the room with Mr. Jones.
The apothecary reached over to pull the door shut and said, “How did Lieutenant Wickham receive an arrow to the arm?”
“He tried to abduct an heiress, and one of her companions shot him,” Darcy said simply.
Jones’s jaw clenched at these words, and he said, “I have a responsibility to care for everyone in need of medical treatment, but Sir William Lucas, who serves as justice of the peace, needs to be informed.”
“I will arrange for that,” Darcy said.
Mr. Jones frowned and said carefully, “Was the lady in question harmed at all?”
Darcy knew what the man was asking. “No, not at all. Wickham was interrupted in his attempt before he could…”
He trailed away, and Jones nodded briskly. “I am very glad. Now, let me summon my two men who can assist me with removing the arrow. It will be an unpleasant and painful business.
“Very good,” Darcy said grimly.
***
Netherfield Park
Two Hours Later
The sun’s lower edge was touching the horizon as Phoenix came to a halt in front of the stables. Darcy swung out of the saddle with a sigh just as a stable hand rushed forward.
“I will take him from you, sir,” the boy said, taking the stallion’s reins.
“Rub him down well,” Darcy said, patting his horse’s neck fondly, “and make sure he has plenty of hot mash and cool water.”
“Yes, sir.”
Darcy stood still for a moment, suddenly aware of how tired he was. It had been a long and exhausting day, and…
“Fitzwilliam?”
He spun around to find Elizabeth standing a few feet away with a smile on her beautiful face.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured, stepping forward and taking her hands in his own.
His beloved glanced over his shoulder, and Darcy turned his head to observe several servants goggling at the couple, though the men quickly turned away at Darcy’s basilisk stare.
“The gardens are quite pleasant now,” Elizabeth said, reaching out to tuck her hand into Darcy’s arm. “Would you like to go for a walk before going inside?”
Fatigue disappeared instantly, and he smiled down at her. “I would like that very much.”
The pair walked in silence until they had passed through an arch which let them into the garden.
The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers.
Rose vines crawled over trellises, deep blooms nodding gently on their prickly stems. Tulip beds blazed, interspersed along the gravel paths, while pools of daffodils gleamed like sunshine throughout the garden.
The last of the snowdrops clung to the shade, peeking shyly out past the blazing greenery of bolder summer plants thickening into buds.
White gravel crunched beneath the couple’s feet as they wandered slowly down the neat paths.
“Did you find Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth finally asked.
“Yes, and he is under guard in Mr. Jones’s house.”
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Will he survive?”
He looked down at her and said gravely, “Perhaps. The arrow has been removed, but there is danger of infection, of course.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, and then she halted by a burbling fountain and looked up into his face. “I find I do not care particularly whether he dies. When I think of what he intended, I am filled with absolute fury.”
“I understand completely, I assure you. How are Miss Bingley and Miss Lydia doing?” Darcy asked.
“Caroline is asleep,” Elizabeth said. “She was terribly shaken, of course. And Lydia…”
She chuckled now, and Darcy felt his throat clog. Elizabeth was so beautiful and alive.
“Lydia is furious with Wickham and spent quite some time stomping around the drawing room breathing her fury at his actions. She seems entirely at ease with having shot the man. Indeed, she declared that if she had been confident of her aim, she would have cheerfully shot the lieutenant in the heart.”
Darcy found himself in full agreement with Lydia Bennet. It was a truly horrific thing for Wickham to try to kidnap Caroline Bingley. “And how are you?”
“I am disturbed by the event, certainly, but at the same time, I also rejoice that God put us in the right place at the right time to thwart Wickham’s evil plans.”
Darcy nodded, lost in consideration of all that had happened this evening.
A few quiet moments passed. “Fitzwilliam?”
He looked down on her, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes grave. “Yes?”
“You asked me a question at Hunsford. I hope you will ask me again.”
He was momentarily breathless, but he recovered quickly.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked.
She smiled up at him. “Yes, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Yes.”
***
Caroline’s Bedchamber
Netherfield Park
The soft cushions of the armchair were comfortable, and Jane let herself relax into them.
A moment later she sat bolt upright again at a snort and a stirring from the bed.
She looked anxiously over at Caroline, who shifted once more beneath the layers of blankets and turned onto her other side, curling up.
Silence settled over the bedchamber again, and after a few seconds, Jane relaxed once more, content that her sister-in-law was deeply asleep.
She tipped her head back against the back of the chair, letting her eyes drift shut. She was so very tired. It would be better to lie down in her own bed for a while, not when Caroline needed companionship.
What a dreadful week it had been! Poor Father, dead in his grave, and Mamma hysterical and prostrate with grief and shock.
Jane needed to sit by her mother's bedside a great deal because Lizzy was not inclined to show a marked degree of sympathy to their afflicted parent, and Mary was a perpetual reminder that Mrs. Bennet had lost her coveted place as mistress of Longbourn.
Kitty was of too nervous a disposition to be of much comfort to their mother, and Lydia's temperament was about as far removed from that of a natural nurse as could be imagined.
Yet Jane Bingley, married woman and mistress of her own home, had duties and responsibilities that she had not had when she was simply Jane Bennet.
She loved her mother and sincerely pitied her, but she could not long neglect her own husband and home to comfort her mother.
At least Charles had been entirely understanding about her need to spend many hours a day at Longbourn.
He had been unfailingly tender and patient with her as she had sought to honor all her conflicting duties.
He had been a veritable rock, strong and steady, holding her through her grief with care.
And then, of course, George Wickham had tried to abduct Caroline.
Jane shook her head and swallowed hard, tears leaking from her closed eyelids.
Poor Caroline! It was a terrifying prospect for any lady, to be in the hands of a ruffian.
Thank the Lord above that Elizabeth and Lydia had happened to be on hand and managed to rescue Caroline.
But still, this latest horror meant that yet more family members were likely in need of Jane’s tender care.
Lydia, at least, seemed entirely comfortable with the events of the day, including shooting a man with an arrow, but poor Caroline was obviously greatly distressed, and Jane did not know how Elizabeth was…
A wave of nausea clenched her stomach, and Jane grimaced.
It passed, and she lifted her head, opening her eyes.
A tea service had been brought by the maids, and now Jane poured herself a cup and added sugar before taking a small sip.
The nausea was getting worse, and the chronic weariness with it.
Neither symptom was pleasant, yet Jane could not help but feel a little frisson of excitement every time her stomach rebelled.
No one knew yet but her maid, from whom her malaise could not be concealed, and Charles, from whom Jane would have no secrets.
He agreed with her that it was quite too early to tell anyone that a little Bingley was on the way.
Time enough for that when Jane began to show.
For now, the baby was their shared secret joy.
Jane sipped slowly at her tea, relishing the quiet few minutes of peace, with Caroline sleeping soundly and no sound outside but birdsong.
The tea was good, and the illness was beginning to pass, and Jane's limbs felt pleasantly leaden.
With nothing to occupy her hands and nothing urgent to occupy her mind, Jane was able to simply relax.
The door opened, and Caroline's maid peeked in. She glanced first, and understandably, to her mistress and then crept carefully around the door to bob her head toward Jane.
“Madame,” she said softly, “Mr. Bingley wishes to see you when it is convenient.”
Jane stirred and rose. “Of course, I will…”
She trailed off as she glanced out the window and froze in surprise.
Fitzwilliam Darcy and her dear sister Elizabeth were standing next to the fountain, enjoying a fervent embrace.
Jane was aware that her mouth was now drooping open.
Elizabeth and … Mr. Darcy?
It could not be!
And yet it was!
Well, it seemed that Jane would not be needed to comfort her sister.
It was absolutely glorious.