Chapter 4
Darcy
At the end of a hard-fought game, Darcy stood up, happy to have finally prevailed.
Mr Bennet stood, too. He looked to have distinctly mixed feelings. Was he frustrated? At least a bit impressed?
Darcy was not certain, but he thanked his host and offered his hand. He was relieved when the older man congratulated him and shook his hand.
“Where did you go to university, son?” asked Mr Bennet.
“Cambridge. You, sir?”
“Oxford, of course.” The older man’s eyes suddenly looked fierce. “I held the record for most chess wins for more than a decade after I took my degree.”
“I cannot make the identical claim,” Darcy said drily, “given that it has only been half a decade since I took mine. But so far, my record holds.”
“I imagine that you think yourself very clever.”
“Yes, I do; but then I have always prided myself on my excellent imagination.”
Mr Bennet emitted a shout of laughter at the unexpected jest. Then he shook his head and said, “All right then, son, off you go.”
Darcy left the library, closing the door behind him. Entering the parlour, he saw that Bingley and Miss Bennet still sat together, talking quietly; Darcy sat near Elizabeth, Miss Mary, and Georgiana. The young ladies all silenced and looked at him expectantly.
He just pointed his thumb towards his chest and then lifted both hands in a subtle sort of shrug.
“Does that mean you won?” Elizabeth asked softly.
Darcy just nodded.
“Oooh, I believe this is the first time my father has lost at chess in my entire life,” Miss Mary whispered.
Georgiana said, “Well, my brother has always won, too, as far back as I can remember.”
Elizabeth said, “I have put my father into check many, many times, and once I thought I had won—I actually said the word checkmate—but I was wrong, as he immediately showed me. I play fairly well—for a chess player who has never won a single game!”
“We need to play,” Darcy said. Her eyes twinkled, and he realised that, although he was not the sort of man to intentionally lose, he might find it impossible to focus properly on the game if he was playing against Elizabeth.
“I would love to play with you,” she murmured. They both blushed, and Elizabeth quickly added, “Chess, I mean.”
“How did my father take the loss, Mr Darcy?” Miss Mary asked.
“I think he might have been upset, but I believe also somewhat impressed. I made a little joke afterwards, and he laughed, so I feel hopeful that he has an overall positive attitude.”
“That seems hopeful,” Elizabeth said.
“He also called me son. Twice. Is that hopeful?”
Elizabeth and Miss Mary both bit their lips.
Darcy smiled at their identical concerned expressions.
“I fear that he is just trying to establish himself as the more powerful person,” Elizabeth murmured.
“He is far beneath you in the social hierarchy, obviously, and so he should be addressing you as sir.”
“I was certainly startled,” Darcy admitted. “And I did feel as if he meant it as an insult. But I am attempting to avoid reacting with anger, so I keep making up little stories for myself. This time, I pretended that he was looking forward to having me as his son.”
Just then, they heard a loud crash and a man’s cry, and Darcy sprung up and dashed towards the sound.
Elizabeth followed and was able to direct him out the side door.
In the yard between the kitchen and the stables was a heavily loaded cart that had tilted to one side, and a man was pinned below a wooden crate.
Darcy was at the man’s side in a moment and was able to lift one side of the crate.
Another man he recognised from the day before, likely the stable master, was only a few steps away, and Darcy asked if he could lift the other side.
“It will be safer to move the crate than to pull out an injured man,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth called over her shoulder, “Hill! Send for the apothecary and start boiling water. I expect Fred to have some injuries.”
Everyone in the house, other than Mr Bennet, had by now poured out into the yard.
The younger girls gathered together in a quiet group quite far from the injured man.
Mrs Bennet was shaking a handkerchief and calling to servants for her “salts”—referring to smelling salts, Darcy assumed—but he was happy to see that the servants ignored her orders and implemented the orders Elizabeth gave instead.
Miss Bennet, too, seemed to give some quiet orders.
Bingley appeared uncertain where to go and what to do, so he shadowed Miss Bennet, who brought Elizabeth a basket in which he could see scissors, a roll of bandages, and several small vials.
Once they had removed the crate, Fred’s injury looked quite bloody but, Darcy judged, not likely to cause loss of limb or life. “Would you like me to handle the torn clothing?” he asked the eldest Bennet daughters.
“I thank you, yes,” Miss Bennet said.
Seeing that she looked pale, he asked quietly, “Are you well, Miss Bennet? Should you be seated?”
“I feel…I should indeed sit.” Miss Bennet handed the basket to Elizabeth and retreated on Bingley’s supporting arm. She sank down onto an overturned bucket.
“And you, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked. He realised he had been using his master-of-the-estate voice up until now; it might have been presumptuous if not for the fact that Mr and Mrs Bennet seemed to be incapable of leading the efforts to handle the situation.
But when he addressed Elizabeth, he had softened his voice without conscious thought.
“I do not mind the sight of blood,” Elizabeth said firmly.
Darcy was already cutting away the torn and bloodied part of Fred’s breeches. By the time he had finished, Elizabeth was ready with a bottle of spirits of some sort and Hill was standing by with a pot of steaming water and a pile of clean towels and cloths.
The stable master and Darcy held Fred down as Elizabeth carefully poured the spirits over the wound. Darcy washed the injured leg with clean rags he had dipped into the water, and he and Elizabeth conferred about the look of the wound.
“It is not very deep, thank goodness,” Darcy said.
He put some bandages Elizabeth had cut over the leg and put pressure on that spot.
“Yes, and thank goodness it is not spurting,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy pictured attempting to compress the main artery, and he agreed vigorously that they were all fortunate this injury was not as grave as it might have been.
“Miss Elizabeth, is there anyone closer than the apothecary who would have more knowledge than we do, who we could call on while we wait?”
She seemed to think carefully but ruefully shook her head. “I am afraid you will have to be the locum until Mr Jones arrives. But you are doing splendidly.”
“I wonder if someone should go alert your father to the situation?”
“I cannot help but think that would be a waste of breath,” Elizabeth muttered.
Despite her words, she moved to speak with Miss Bennet, who then hurried into the house with Mr Bingley at her heels.
Elizabeth returned with a glass of water and asked Fred about his pain; she put a drop from one of the vials into the water and held it to the man’s lips.
“It is bitter, but you will shortly feel less pain.” Then she offered to take a turn putting pressure on the wound.
“I am well for now,” Darcy said, “but you should stay here with me, and keep me company while we wait for the apothecary. You know, in case I get worn out.” He smiled at Elizabeth, hoping that she realised he was flirting.
Her eyes twinkled as she said, “I absolutely will.” But her face sobered as she studied the amount of blood on the bandaging he pressed to Fred’s leg.
She directed servants to deal with the broken cart and the crates of cherries that had been harvested on the home farm, and then she focused on distracting Fred.
While Darcy kept steady pressure on the wound, he reviewed in his mind other things that ought to be done. He nodded in appreciation that every task he could think of had already been dealt with by Elizabeth.
She was full young to be so accomplished and organised.
Of course, Longbourn was a small estate, and one she knew well; it would take some time for Elizabeth to be as well versed on Pemberley, not to mention the other properties, but he could readily see that Elizabeth would be a magnificent Mrs Darcy, just as he had always thought.
The arrival of Mr Jones, the apothecary, intruded on his reverie; Mr Jones immediately took over wound care and began issuing orders. Darcy and Elizabeth were soon able to scrub their hands clean with sand, water from the pump, and some rather caustic soap.
“I am grateful for your leadership, sir,” Elizabeth said as they walked towards the house. “I imagine that you noticed that my parents are not quite the master and mistress an estate might hope for.”
Darcy held the door open for her. “I am using my imagination in a far more pleasurable way—picturing how formidable a team you and I will make.”
“Formidable?”
“I believe that the two of us, working in concert, will be able to take on whatever vagaries life throws at us.”
Elizabeth waited until they were seated near one another in the parlour. She said, “I notice that you are purposely vague on just what those vagaries might be. Tell me, is Pemberley likely to suffer calamities?”
“Well, perhaps you can get some idea if you realise that it has been rebuilt five thousand, eight hundred and thirty-eight times.”
She smiled briefly, acknowledging the tease, and said, “Deluges, conflagrations, tempests?
“Of course.”
“Earthquakes, tidal waves, blizzards?”
“Naturally. You must admit the catastrophic nature of a tidal wave that could reach Derbyshire, which must be at least seventy miles from the ocean!”
“Seriously, though,” Elizabeth said, “I imagine there are some blizzards and even avalanches, some flooding, and certainly some pestilence.”
Darcy replaced his playful expression with a sincerely grave face.
“I cannot claim Pemberley free of all disaster.
However, although Pemberley has had additions and has been updated, as all houses built in the 1500s have been, it has only suffered one minor fire that never spread to the main wings.
The building is largely stone, with slate roofs, and it has several lightning rods.
It was altered with firewalls and chimney advancements, and my father instituted a systematic check on all fires and candles each night before the servants retired.
My innovation was installing in several spots safety measures and fire-fighting tools, such as a long-poled swab and a long-poled hook, to reduce the danger of a small problem becoming a big one.
“Similar to the care about fire, the estate has several measures reducing the likelihood of damage from floods, blizzards, and heavy storms. Nowhere in the world can be absolutely safe, but the Darcys have been fortunate enough to be able to afford the best safety equipment, and I have exerted every care to learn about advances in the field. We also manage to have better health and less disease because of our traditions of adequate housing, clean water, and the patronage of an excellent surgeon and a highly educated apothecary in the nearest town.”
“That all sounds as if our formidable team should indeed be capable of dealing with the more ruinous vagaries. I look forward to touring the estate and learning more of these safety measures.”
Darcy whispered, “And I look forward to showing you our homes. Mostly not because of the lightning rods and culverts and coppiced trees. Mostly because of the pleasure we will find together walking and riding and exploring the estate and the manor.”
Mr Bennet surprised Darcy—and, likely, everyone—by shambling into the parlour at that moment. He narrowed his eyes at Darcy and said, “Lizzy, I hope you and your beau will cease your whispers and speak of things to the room generally.”
“Yes, Papa.” Elizabeth continued, “Although Mr Darcy is everything proper, he has nearly lost his voice, having to utter so many orders while he coped with the accident that befell our servant on our land. Never fear, however; I am certain that his voice will be restored soon.”
Mr Bennet looked as if he was entertained by her ironic words, but he wished to pretend to be affronted. Darcy wondered how wise it might be to tweak the man who could deny them permission to wed, but he had to concede that Elizabeth knew her own father far better than he did.
Elizabeth’s father turned towards Bingley and Miss Bennet, and he said, “Mr Bingley, when we met earlier this afternoon, I forgot to ask you if you play chess?”
“I do not, sir.”
“Another disappointment in a day of disappointments. Very well, you young men can get on home, then.” Mr Bennet turned and made his way back out the door.
Elizabeth said, “I am extremely sorry about my father’s appalling lack of manners.”
The men stood, and Darcy said, “Come, Georgiana, we have taken enough of our hosts’ time.” Turning to Elizabeth, he added, “Georgiana and I will return tomorrow, if you will have us? Unless the coming storm is very severe, of course.”
Elizabeth said, “Unfortunately, we do not have culverts here, and there are times when the roads become impossible to traverse via carriage. So I believe that we should not count on a visit tomorrow. But of course you are very welcome if travel is safe.”
Darcy felt a pang at the idea of not seeing Elizabeth the next day. He said, “I should have brought a punt, or perhaps a dinghy.”
That sent Elizabeth into peals of laughter as she saw Bingley and the Darcys out.