Chapter 12
Elizabeth entered the house breathless, water dripping from her clothes and hair, crying out frantically.
“Papa! Jane! Hill! Jane!” She raced from one door to another and found her family in the drawing room. They looked at her, astounded and desperately worried by her frightening state.
“Lizzy, what happened?” Jane ran to her. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head in denial, leaning on the back of a chair for support.
“Mr Darcy has fallen in the grove! Behind the house! Just where the path starts to climb towards Oakham Mount! He does not speak, nor move! He needs help! We must go now!”
Everyone rose in haste, looking at each other, then at Elizabeth, panicked and desperate.
“But how…? Why…?” Mrs Bennet cried.
“Mama, I just ran to ask for help! I am going back now! Elizabeth yelled. “Bring the carriage, send for Mr Jones! Send John and Tom and Hill after me! I must go back now! He is alone on the ground!” she shouted, turning to leave.
“Lizzy, wait!” Jane called her. “You are all wet! You must change!”
“Jane, he will die alone if I do not return! Can you not understand?”
“We will come after you,” Jane said tearfully but Elizabeth did not hear her, as she left the house running.
Every step was heavy and painfully slow.
The rain, the mud, the wind, all seemed to slow her down.
As if she was in a nightmare, she wished to hurry, but something was holding her, pulling her back.
She put all her strength into her feet, moving one after another, again and again.
Eventually, after minutes as long as years, she finally returned to the spot where she had left him. The horse was still there, but Darcy had moved, crawled to a tree, in an apparent attempt to rise. He was now leaning against the tree, on the ground, her coat close to his chest.
Elizabeth sat next to him, calling his name, but he did not respond. She took his head and put it in her lap.
“Mr Darcy,” she called him again. “Please open your eyes… please…I am sorry I left you alone…I just went to get help. They will be here soon. Do not worry; we will take you to Longbourn in no time. Please talk to me…” She continued to speak, and for an instant, her hopes rose, as he opened his eyes and looked at her.
She breathed in relief, while more tears rolled down her cheeks, falling onto his face.
She wiped his face first, then hers but without much success, since the rain continued to fall steadily.
She took his hands in hers, and he tightened his fingers around her own.
She removed her wet, dirty gloves, then his and held his hands again.
“Miss Bennet…” she heard him whisper, and the pain in her chest loosened its grip.
“Mr Darcy…I am so happy you are awake! Sir, are you hurt?”
His eyes were still half closed. “My head hurts…and my leg…and my chest…and my back…Oh, my horse is still here. Please ask someone to take care of him. I cannot stand…”
“Do not worry...we will take care of everything,” she assured him.
“You should not be here…it is very cold, and you are wet…You will catch a cold,” he mumbled, barely coherent.
He seemed to fall asleep again, and she called to him repeatedly, with no response.
Fortunately, she soon detected the sound of a carriage approaching, then several voices calling for her and there were her father, John, Tom, and Hill, all getting down from the carriage and hurrying to her.
John was carrying several blankets, while Tom took the reins and tried to bring the horses and the carriage closer, slowly moving through the trees.
“Mr Darcy spoke,” Elizabeth explained to her father, trying to move. “But he cannot stand. He has hurt his head and his leg…I do not know how we can move him.”
“We should put him in a blanket and carry him with it,” Mr Bennet said.
“I have seen that done several times. This way, if he has broken anything, we will not increase the damage. Jane has gone to fetch Mr Jones, but I am not sure when they will be here. I am not sure if we would be better to wait here or take him to the house.”
“Papa, we cannot wait any longer. He has been out in this weather for a long time…I believe even before I left for a walk,” Elizabeth pleaded.
“We will try, my dear. But it will not be easy to carry him to the carriage.”
“We will find a way, sir,” John said. “Miss Lizzy is right, we should not wait. Mr Darcy looks truly ill.”
“And you look very ill too, Miss Lizzy. You should hurry back home and change your clothes right away! We will do fine without you,” Hill insisted, but Elizabeth refused and dismissed the notion with a gesture.
With infinite care, they put a blanket down on the wet, muddy ground, then rolled Darcy onto it; each held a corner, carrying it step by step to the carriage.
While they struggled, the sound of another carriage and voices interrupted them.
Mr Jones arrived in his phaeton, with his assistant Peter, followed by Jane.
The men put their efforts together and eventually managed to settle Darcy on the floor of Mr Jones’s phaeton.
Then they all drove towards Longbourn, which was only half a mile away.
Elizabeth rode in the carriage with her father and their servants, her arms wrapped around herself and her gaze following the carriage carrying Darcy.
Her mind kept wondering about the circumstances of his present state, and she imagined he had come to Longbourn precisely to be close to her, to avoid her walking such a long distance.
And she had accused him of indifference and lack of consideration!
She had accused him of so many things, and probably she had been wrong in most cases.
He remained behind because he wanted to talk about something private and important to her.
Otherwise, he would have left with the rest of the party, and he would have been safe and sound now.
But instead he was lying there, with only a glimpse of life in him, which could vanish at any moment.
Despite being thoroughly wet and exhausted, her senses were frozen. She felt nothing else but worry for Darcy and overwhelming fear for how this dreadful situation would end.
They arrived at Longbourn’s gate, and the effort of carrying Darcy started again until he was finally brought into the house. There, in the main hall, under Mrs Bennet and her daughters’ astounded stares, the party stopped again.
“Where should we put Mr Darcy?” John asked and a short moment of confusion followed. Mr Jones offered some incoherent suggestions, more distressed than the family had ever seen him.
Mrs Bennet moved closer, looking at Darcy, who lay on the blanket, still, wet and dirty. Her hand covered her mouth to stop a gasp.
“We cannot take him upstairs; it would be too hard to carry him such a long distance. We will put him in my chamber, here, on the ground floor,” Mr Bennet declared.
“No, in my room! It is larger and has two beds. He will need constant attendance. I will move until he recovers,” Mrs Bennet interjected with such perfect logic and utter determination that the others stared at her in silence.
“Hill, bring some hot water! And some dry clothes from Mr Bennet’s closet.
Come, follow me,” the lady continued to give precise orders that were immediately followed.
Mr Bennet only nodded, remaining in the hall with his daughters, helpless and troubled. They looked at each other, lost for words and action.
“Lizzy, go and change yourself this instant. And you, Jane! I do not need you to fall ill as well,” Mr Bennet eventually commanded his eldest daughters.
Elizabeth protested weakly, wishing to stay and wait for news from Mr Jones, but Jane grabbed her arm and pulled her to their chamber. Kitty, Lydia and Mary remained in the hall, disconcerted, looking at their father.
“Come, girls, let us go to the drawing room and think what we should do,” the gentleman said. “Although there is little to do, except wait.”
In their room, Elizabeth and Jane threw their wet clothes on the floor and wrapped themselves in dry towels. Elizabeth washed her face and Jane helped her dry her hair beside the fire.
They assisted each other with hasty moves and few words. Elizabeth started to shiver, and her lips turned blue, as she began to feel the coldness her body had suffered. Then her thoughts flew to him again. How long had he been in the cold and how might his body recover after such suffering?
“Jane, I am fine, thank you. Let us go downstairs; Mr Jones must have news by now.”
“Lizzy, wait, dearest. Let me arrange your hair, it is still very wet. And you must have some herbal tea; you look truly ill.”
“I am well, Jane. You should take care of yourself–you rode in that terrible weather. Thank God you did not suffer an accident. Mr Darcy is an excellent rider, and he still fell from his horse,” Elizabeth said, hurrying out of the door and down the stairs.
Jane struggled to keep pace with her, but Elizabeth barged into the drawing room, where their parents and sisters were gathered and talking animatedly.
“How is Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“Lizzy, come and sit by the fire! Have a cup of hot tea! You too, Jane! Lord forbid that you catch a cold too! Lizzy, you have not eaten anything today! Have some biscuits!” Mrs Bennet demanded. Jane hurried to pour two cups of tea, but Elizabeth ignored her mother’s requests.
“What did Mr Jones say? How is Mr Darcy?” she repeated, glancing from one to another.
“Mr Darcy is still unconscious. He has been washed and changed but he is badly hurt. Mr Jones seems…a little overwhelmed,” Mr Bennet answered gravely. “He and Peter are still with Mr Darcy. We expect them to give us more details soon.”
Mr Bennet appeared distressed too; he was barely able to find the proper words to express his concern.
Elizabeth paced the room and refused the cup that Jane handed her. “So–what should we do?” she asked. “We must do something.”