Chapter 10
“Miss Elizabeth, a manservant from Longbourn is here,” a maid informed Elizabeth.
Elizabeth, who had been wiping Jane’s hot forehead with a cool cloth, nodded, “Thank you. I will be along in just a moment.”
She was relieved that Jane was slightly better this morning. Her fever, while it had not broken, was lower and Jane still slept peacefully.
Elizabeth kissed her sister on the cheek and followed the maid down the stairs, through a hall and out a side door where Peter, one of Longbourn’s stable boys, was standing with his white gelding’s reins in one hand and a letter in the other.
“Good morning, Peter,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “Thank you for coming so early in the morning.”
“Always my pleasure, Miss Elizabeth,” the boy returned with a shy bob of the head, “Miss Mary sent this letter for you, and the crutches are on Columbine here.”
Elizabeth carefully tucked the letter safely in one of her long sleeves, and together she and Peter removed the crutches from Columbine, being careful not to bash the poor horse in the head in the process.
“Thank you, Peter. Can you tell me if the carriage wheel is fixed yet?”
“No, Miss, I am afraid it is not. The bad roads from the rain meant that several carriages broke down and the wheelwright is quite busy.”
“Very well, please tell the coachman that I would like to know as soon as the carriage is repaired. Also, can you please lead Buttercup back to Longbourn? Miss Bennet will not be well enough to ride on horseback in the near future; she will need to return by carriage.”
“Of course, Miss.”
Elizabeth turned away from the boy and entered Netherfield Hall with the crutches held carefully under her right arm. In retrospect, perhaps it had been foolish to ask Mary to send along the crutches, which her father had used several years ago when he broke his leg. Mr. Darcy might consider it too forward of her. But the poor man was very limited in his movements, and that provoked a surge of compassion.
To her relief, Mr. Darcy’s valet, a middle aged man of medium height and somber demeanor, was in the hall next to the back parlor which was now Mr. Darcy’s temporary bedchamber.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes?” the man inquired, his expression rather forbidding. No doubt he was quite accustomed to women trying to attain Mr. Darcy’s attentions by fair means or foul.
“My father sent these crutches to Mr. Darcy,” she explained mendaciously. “He broke his leg several years ago and had these made so that he was able to move around more easily. I hope you do not think it forward of our family, but we wish to offer their use to Mr. Darcy until he is back on his feet.”
The valet’s expression shifted from suspicious to something akin to pleased, and he reached for the crutches with enthusiasm, “Thank you, Miss …”
“Elizabeth Bennet,” she explained. “My sister Miss Jane Bennet fell ill two nights ago, and I am staying here to care for her.”
“Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Thank you very much.”
/
“What are those?” Darcy demanded in a puzzled manner.
“They are crutches, sir,” his valet responded, holding them vertically. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet gave them to me but a few moments ago and explained that her father, Mr. Bennet, used them when he broke a leg some years ago. She offered them for your use, sir, if you would care to try them.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy gazed upon the simple wooden instruments with what he wryly admitted was pathetic hopefulness. He absolutely hated being crippled like this, forced to hop a few feet from chair to bed to chair again, and requiring assistance from footmen to traverse the distance to the dining room and sitting room and library. Worse yet, his valet, fortunately a strong man, had to assist him for his more private needs. It was entirely generous of Miss Elizabeth, who did not care much for him, to arrange for the loan of crutches.
“I would like to try them, very much,” he breathed. Together, gentleman and servant fussed around with the crutches for a few minutes until Darcy found himself standing with his right leg down and left leg lifted carefully up, while his hands grasped the horizontal grips halfway down the crutches. It felt odd and the upper spars dug into his side, but he was able to traverse the floor by himself.
After the last day, it represented quite glorious freedom.
/
“I think one more day, Miss Bennet, and if you continue to improve, you will be safe to return home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Jane replied with a grateful smile.
“Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth agreed.
“Now mind you, Miss Elizabeth, if you do carry her home on the morrow, make sure she is well wrapped up.”
“We will wrap everything from head to toe,” Elizabeth assured the man, provoking a soft chuckle from her sister.
“Well, I must be going as I have another patient to attend to here. Good afternoon to you both.”
Jane waited until the door shut behind the apothecary before turning a sleepy face to her beloved sister, “Go home, Lizzy.”
“I hate to leave you, Jane. Our hostess seems far too focused on her male guest to provide you with much company.”
“And I have little desire for company as I am quite content to sleep. Do return to Longbourn, I beg you. Poor Mary is probably quite fatigued without your steadying presence.”
“Very well, though I confess it is a great sacrifice on my part. I had time to read fifteen sonnets last night along with the first Act of Macbeth . I will not have such an opportunity at home.”
Jane chuckled again and her eyes closed, “I will see you tomorrow about noon.”
/
“Well, the swelling has gone down a little,” Mr. Jones murmured, his hands gently shifting Darcy’s injured left ankle. Darcy sucked in a pained gasp from the movement, and the apothecary grimaced apologetically.
“My apologies, Mr. Darcy. Well, I am hopeful it is merely a severe sprain but you must not walk on it.”
“But I can use the crutches?”
“Oh yes, sir, definitely. I remember those crutches quite well; Mr. Bennet had them made some years ago after a fall from a horse. I am certain they are not particularly comfortable, but far better to use them than to be entirely trapped in one place.”
“Far, far better,” Darcy returned fervently, and both men chuckled.
/
“Thank the Lord you are here, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed as Lizzy stepped through the side door of Longbourn. She had left Daisy in the stables and had hoped for at least a few moments to refresh herself before coping with estate business, but obviously that was not to be.
“What is wrong, Mother?”
“Your father is having ... a bad day, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth’s lips tightened at these words, and her eyes flew to Hill, who fulfilled the role of butler and valet of Longbourn. The man had a red mark across his forehead and Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, “Oh Hill, no!”
“It is quite all right, Miss Elizabeth,” the man declared resolutely. “I knew the master was unwell, and I failed to duck in time. It was only a book.”
Elizabeth turned to her mother, “I will go speak with him.”
“Do, Lizzy, do! You simply cannot run off like this again! You know your father listens to you better than anyone else!”
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and squared her slender shoulders, “Very well. Hill, can you send in some tea in about ten minutes?”
“Yes, Miss.”
When she quietly opened the door to the library, she found her father seated in the chair near the fire, his head leaning wearily on his right hand. The floor of the room was covered with books, and she observed shattered glass in the fireplace, no doubt from a wine goblet.
For a moment, the tableau held and then the master of Longbourn lifted a woebegone face to his second child.
“Lizzy.”
She relaxed a little and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She knew, based on bitter experience, that the worst of the storm had passed. Her father’s rages were thankfully both rare and short lived, though they left a miasma of fear and sorrow in their wake which generally lasted for days.
“It is my fault Matthew is dead. My fault, Lizzy. I should have taken him to London when he was so ill in his last days.”
Elizabeth pulled over the desk chair and sank down into it, reaching out her slender hands to grasp the shaking hands of her father, “You and Mother did everything you could for our brother. You know that at the end, all he wanted was to be left in peace, surrounded by our love. It is not your fault, Father.”
Tears trickled down her father’s grizzled face, “I must have sinned against God in some truly vile way, Lizzy. He took not just my son, but my legacy. He took away the security of my daughters. What did I do that I am punished so severely?”
“That is a false belief, Mr. Bennet.”
Father and daughter looked up in surprise and Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief, “Oh, Mr. Allen! Good evening.”
The clergyman smiled back at her and held out an aged hand, “Miss Mary sent me a message asking if I could visit, and here I am. Mr. Bennet, might I speak to you on the gracious kindness of God even through great sorrow?”
The broken man nodded and Elizabeth stood up with alacrity. Mr. Allen took her place, and as Elizabeth crept out of the room, she heard him say, “My dear sir, we do not know why great sorrows occur, but we live in a broken world. Think of Job, who lost children and riches in ...”
Elizabeth shut the door quietly behind her and stood in the silent hall for a moment, tears of sorrow and compassion running down her face.