Chapter 21
Dr Taylor’s examination concerned Darcy far less than Elizabeth’s response to his wound.
The injury was painful, as had been his meeting with Wickham, who had caused it.
After seeing Georgiana, he had gone to find her waster of a husband, in a place far worse than Darcy had expected.
The fact that Wickham spent his time in such places, with such people, was deeply distressing, due to the association with Georgiana.
The injury — a knife wound — had not been inflicted by Wickham directly, but he had been the cause of it, as he had been the cause of most of the terrible things that had happened to the Darcys in the last ten years.
Darcy should have known better than to take something valuable into that street or to protest and try to stop the urchin that had pilfered his purse.
Seeing him hurt, Elizabeth had acted like someone genuinely concerned and caring, but there was an underlaying anger he could sense, which altered her disposition; for that he could not account, nor could he imagine the reason.
And she had sent some sharp arrows from her eyes and in her words, questioning his behaviour, which was not entirely surprising.
Darcy was aware of how frustrating, perhaps even offensive, his actions appeared to his wife.
He had told her little, he had disappeared suddenly, with no reason, and he had held private conferences with Mr Gardiner and Mr Ross, sometimes at the most inappropriate times, keeping Elizabeth deliberately ignorant.
As a husband and a gentleman, yes, he had failed to show her the consideration she deserved.
As a brother and son trying to protect his family’s name, his endeavour was certainly justified.
What puzzled him the most was Elizabeth’s insinuation that he should have chosen another woman to marry.
It was the second time she had mentioned something similar, and he struggled to comprehend her meaning.
A bright, determined woman like his wife was not easy to understand, nor easy to please, especially when he was so deeply indebted to her.
Strangely enough, not even once had she shown any concern in regard to her fortune.
Every time they argued about something, she said that the matter was settled, and she trusted him to resolve it according to their contract.
At times, she mentioned the contract with calmness and confidence, other times with sharp bitterness.
She trusted him with the money on which her comfortable and peaceful life depended but distrusted him in other ways.
How confusing and disquieting! Maddening woman!
More maddening was the realisation that his wife’s feelings had become his constant preoccupation.
Her presence always caused him a thrilling and disturbing anticipation, which he had never experienced before and which perturbed him even more at a time when his mind needed to be focused on one matter only.
He did not need such a complication. His purpose was to bring Georgiana home at all costs.
He had seen her the previous day, and the sight of her had broken his heart into even more pieces.
She had promised that Wickham had not hurt her in any way, that he treated her well.
But her pallor, her sadness, her obvious weight loss revealed otherwise.
He had been concerned for her when Wickham kept her away from him.
Now that he had found her, she refused to leave that scoundrel’s influence to return home under his protection.
What sort of power could Wickham hold over her?
Was her affection for that wretch stronger than any other consideration?
Georgiana had left him no other choice than to bargain with Wickham for her, even against her will.
He would impose this condition — he would give him the money only if Georgiana returned and remained under Darcy’s protection.
He would save his sister even if that meant buying her from Wickham.
With his body stiffened by pain and his mind burdened by thoughts, Darcy prepared for dinner.
If not for Elizabeth, he would have certainly not left his room — his bed.
But she deserved at least as much consideration, given that he had not spent much time with her father and sister since they arrived.
They may not remark upon it, but for being so newly married, his continued absences and business matters occupying almost the entire day were certainly noticed.
She had suggested he dine in his room, in order to protect his arm, which was further proof of her genuine concern and kindness; in exchange, he owed her thanks and his presence.
And as pleasant a presence as he could muster.
Darcy walked down the stairs carefully, as if his wounded arm might affect his steps too.
He felt a dull pulsing through it, especially if he did not hold it up high enough, but he decidedly disregarded it, determined to not attract attention to himself.
He found the rest of the party already in the dining room, at the table, which was intimately arranged for four.
“Mr Darcy, how wonderful that you joined us!” Mr Bennet said, while Darcy took his seat. “Lizzy informed us about your accident, and she said you must stay in bed.”
“Mrs Darcy is very kind and considerate, but I think I shall survive a dinner,” Darcy replied, smiling at his wife. “The doctor instructed me to avoid any effort to help the wound heal. But there is nothing you should be concerned about, I assure you.”
The first course was served, and Darcy tried to eat with one hand, which was a bit awkward.
“Should I cut up your meat and vegetables?” Elizabeth softly offered, and he glanced at her in surprise. He had been thinking to ask a servant to do just that, but since she suggested it, could he refuse her?
“Thank you, yes. I can manage soup, but it seems I need help with anything that requires cutting.”
“Well, that is the advantage of being a married man — you have help whenever you need it,” Mr Bennet said with a wink.
“I have discovered many other advantages to being married, but this one is not to be neglected,” Darcy uttered in the same light tone. “Sadly, helping each other is not as common between spouses as it should be.”
Mr Bennet’s countenance suddenly darkened, and Darcy regretted his last words. From the little Elizabeth had revealed to him, Mr Bennet’s second marriage must be one of those.
“I hope the injury will not prevent you from accompanying us to the theatre tomorrow, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bennet interjected.
“I shall not allow a trifling injury to alter our plans again, Miss Bennet.”
“An injury should be more important than a play, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “But I doubt you would allow my opinion to change your decision.”
He glanced at her, aware that she was half teasing him again. “If it were your well-being, I would have certainly postponed going to the theatre. But I assure you I shall be perfectly well. I greatly anticipate spending a pleasant evening together before Mr Bennet returns to Longbourn.”
“So do I, Mr Darcy. I admit I had some concerns in regard to Elizabeth’s hasty marriage, but making your acquaintance has definitely put all my anxieties to rest. I could not think of a better husband for my dear daughter.”
Elizabeth blushed and smiled at her father, then glanced at Darcy.
“I assure you, I am the fortunate one, Mr Bennet. By the way, Mrs Darcy, thank you for cutting up my food so carefully. I shall ask for this favour often until my arm is fully healed,” he said, trying to jest.
“You may count on me, Mr Darcy,” she answered. “Just try not to make a habit of hurting yourself.”
Mr Bennet laughed at their playful banter; the others smiled and concentrated their attention on their plates.
After that, the atmosphere grew more comfortable, and no one remarked upon Elizabeth helping Darcy with his dinner again. Darcy kept glancing at his wife, and she returned the looks; with relief, he even noticed a little smile twisting her lips, probably at his clumsiness in eating with one hand.
The dessert had been brought when a footman entered, apologising for the interruption, and approached the master of the house.
“Yes?” Darcy asked.
“Forgive me, sir, but a man just brought a letter for you. I thought it might be something urgent since it was delivered at this hour. Should I put it on your desk?”
Darcy sensed Elizabeth’s curious gaze as the footman leant down and whispered in his ear, then hesitated a moment before answering.
A letter delivered at that hour could not carry any good news, but he was wary of provoking her ire again by disappearing from the dinner; yet the notion that something might have happened to Georgiana was more important than his wife’s displeasure.
“Forgive me for only a moment. I shall return shortly,” he said, grabbing the letter. In the privacy of his library, he opened it impatiently, and as he began to read, his amazement combined with disbelief.
Mr Darcy,
I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, but from the reports concerning your character and honour, I have great hopes that you will forgive my manners in addressing you, regardless.
My name is Thomas Crawford; my father was Colonel Gilroy Crawford, and my mother was Mrs Eleanor Crawford, nee Woodford. I have spent most of my life abroad and only returned to England two months ago. Since then, I have employed my time in seeking connections with my relatives.
I have strong reasons and evidence to believe that my only living blood relative on my mother’s side is your wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, formerly Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Our mothers were first cousins, their respective mothers being sisters.