Chapter 19 #3
“The day before the ball…after that night when…well, Darcy went to talk to Markham. I do not know whether you are aware of it, but the Markhams were visiting a family only ten miles from Netherfield. Darcy went to speak to him secretly. The talk did not go well, and Darcy had no other option but to call him out. I think they will fight tomorrow morning at dawn on a field near London. Only the colonel was informed as he will be Darcy’s second. ”
“You are out of your senses,” Mrs Gardiner repeated. “You, Mr Darcy, and the colonel—three gentlemen without sense or reason!”
“This is madness,” Mr Gardiner agreed. “Duels are not legal; you know that! Mr Darcy is jeopardising his life, now, before his wedding!”
“The colonel assured me Mr Darcy is superior to Markham in every respect, and he can defeat him any time with any weapon.” Mr Bennet sounded like a child attempting to justify misbehaviour.
“Oh, the colonel assured you; then we can sleep in peace.” Mrs Gardiner’s mocking tone was such as neither of the gentlemen had heard before. “Is Lizzy aware of this? I dare say not.”
“No, Lizzy knows nothing, and you must swear your secrecy, and Madeline, do not look at me with such reproach. I do know how dangerous the situation is. Darcy confessed everything to me precisely because I am Lizzy’s father, and he felt responsible for her because they are now officially engaged.
If anything should happen to him, he asked my consent to have an arrangement settled on Elizabeth in case he…
in case the duel should not end as we hope. ”
He took a deep breath before continuing, obviously affected.
“Of course I tried to change his mind…at first…but I could not heartily say I disagreed with him. He attempted to speak reasonably with the Markhams. He gave me his word that, if Markham admitted his fault and said that it all had been a drunken man’s wild behaviour, Darcy would put everything aside, but Markham insisted he wanted Elizabeth, would finally have her, and would gladly fight Darcy for her.
Brother, if you could have heard him that night—he seemed out of his senses.
Kept telling me he wanted to marry Lizzy.
Can you imagine? Lizzy will never be safe if Darcy does not teach him a hard lesson.
And what if Darcy hurts Markham? Maybe he will—I pray God he will—but what then?
The earl could hold that against Darcy. What would he do—expose his name and his reputation to censure?
How would that help Lizzy?” he concluded, exhausted.
“Let us not think so far ahead,” Mr Gardiner intervened. “The situation is difficult, indeed, but let us find a way to handle it for everyone’s benefit.”
“I see no way out,” said Mr Bennet. “If I inform Mr Darcy this evening, the news might affect him so that he would not be in a proper state of mind for the duel. If we wait until he sends me notice after the duel, it might be too late for Lady Cassandra. What should I do? I managed to get the doctor’s direction from Miss Darcy.
I thought I could fetch the doctor, but how can I convince him to come to Hertfordshire and attend her ladyship without involving Mr Darcy? ”
A few long moments of silence followed; Longbourn was before them when Mr Gardiner spoke again, trying to meet his wife’s eyes in the darkness.
“I shall go to London personally; I shall leave as soon as I change my attire. I will be there in a couple of hours. I will first talk to Lady Cassandra’s companion; I was introduced to her at the private ball.
I am certain she will want to come to Netherfield immediately.
She will help me fetch the doctor. I will send them here as soon as possible; in the meantime, I will seek out Mr Darcy, and hopefully, we shall all return tomorrow night. ”
Mrs Gardiner and Mr Bennet listened without a word; the carriage stopped in front of Longbourn, and they all exited. “I shall help you prepare yourself,” his wife said briefly.
Mr Bennet sighed. “Thank you, brother. I shall always be grateful to you.”
∞∞∞
In Cassandra’s room there was silence—profound, frightening silence.
Janey and Georgiana refused to leave the room at all, so the former had fallen asleep in a chair and the latter was resting near the bed, her head close to Cassandra’s, holding her hand.
Elizabeth sat in an armchair on the other side of the bed.
She had abandoned any struggle or pretence of composure—any mask she had tried to wear during the day.
She allowed the tears to flow as painful, vivid recollections brought her back to the day when she had first seen Cassandra at the theatre.
How much their relationship had changed in such a short time!
That day at Netherfield—the first day of her engagement—they finally had talked openly and clarified everything between them.
Cassandra’s compliments and praise were dear to Elizabeth as she was certain they were honestly expressed.
Cassandra was not a woman to practice disguise of any sort.
Very much like William, Elizabeth thought, tearfully.
Looking at Cassandra’s form beneath the sheets, Elizabeth could scarcely bear the pain she felt.
She had enjoyed her growing friendship with Cassandra and known for some time that she truly cared for her, but only then in that dark, silent room did Elizabeth truly feel she had come to consider Cassandra more than a friend.
She could not grieve for her own sisters more than she grieved for Cassandra at that moment as she wondered how long she would be with them.
What happened to that lively, fearless woman?
What unbearable burden had thrown her to the ground?
What cruel secret had drained her of life, spirit, and wit and left her tormented these last weeks?
How was it possible that a woman who had ridden wildly through a dreadful storm at Pemberley to save her and Georgiana could simply fall from her horse?
The more Elizabeth pondered it, the more certain she was that the explanation for Cassandra’s transformation was the colonel.
Something happened between them when the he appeared in the neighbourhood—maybe even sooner as Cassandra’s low spirits had been apparent since she first come to Hertfordshire. But what was it?
As she began to think with more clarity, Elizabeth realised that Cassandra’s behaviour was not unfamiliar to her. She had seen such turmoil before in her sister Jane after Mr Bingley left unexpectedly last winter.
Could that have happened to Cassandra, too?
Not very likely—she and the colonel seemed perfectly suited to each other, and there was no apparent reason for them to be apart if their desire was to be together.
But what if it were not mutual affection but the unshared inclination of only one of them?
Was it possible that Cassandra had tender feelings toward the colonel that were unrequited?
Could that be the reason for her desperation?
But no—the colonel did not seem to reject her at all—quite the contrary!
Of course, Elizabeth could not be entirely certain of her perceptions regarding either friend, since every time she had been in their company, Elizabeth’s thoughts and attention were directed solely at Darcy.
Yet, she could be fairly certain the colonel did not behave like a gentleman rejecting a lady.
“Elizabeth, come quickly! Cassandra has moved! She squeezed my hand, and she is saying something!”
Georgiana’s cries so startled Elizabeth that for a moment she could not move; an instant later, she leaned as closely as she could toward Cassandra’s face to understand the words she struggled to whisper.
Elizabeth’s eyes met Georgiana’s and they shared both the relief of seeing Cassandra’s first moves and the surprise of hearing her repeating, more than once, a single word: “David.”
It was dark, so very dark that Cassandra could see nothing, not even herself.
And cold…freezing…She wanted to wrap her arms around herself for warmth, but they would not move.
She was trembling from cold as well as fear.
She was alone; she was lost. The hole in which she was trapped was so deep there was no possible escape alone.
She was too small—too powerless. She tried to run, but her feet would not obey, and where could she run?
There was no hope left. She was lost. She could scream, praying someone would help her, but if they came after her, they would punish her for being disobedient.
They always told her a little girl should not ride like that…
yet, any punishment was better than the darkness that surrounded her.
She had never been afraid of darkness, so why was she so frightened now?
And why was her voice so weak? She must cry louder, louder.
If she could only cry loud enough so he could hear her…
he would surely come and save her…David… David…
∞∞∞
A day and night of torment and fears had passed—a time spent in prayers and dim hopes.
Early in the morning before breakfast, Mrs Spencer and Lady Cassandra’s personal doctor arrived at Netherfield.
Though she was relieved to have the second doctor’s assistance and Mrs Spencer’s presence, Elizabeth was deeply concerned that Darcy had not accompanied them.
Mrs Spencer mentioned briefly that Mr Darcy had some last-minute business and most likely would return later.
How could that be? What kind of business could possibly keep him in London when his lifelong friend, as dear to him as a sister, was in grave danger of losing her life?
Even worse for Elizabeth’s peace of mind was the revelation that Mr Gardiner himself had travelled to Town to carry the news of the accident and had remained there to return with Mr Darcy.
She desperately struggled to find a reasonable explanation for such a strange event, but she was exhausted, and her mind refused to provide the answers to so many questions.
There was nothing to do but wait—and spend time at Cassandra’s side, together with Georgiana and Mrs Spencer.
Unfortunately, Cassandra did not awaken, and her state showed little improvement.
As the doctor predicted, she had developed a high fever, and they watched helplessly as her body shivered almost continuously despite the laudanum and their united efforts at cooling her hands, cheeks, and forehead.
Yet, it was encouraging that Cassandra did move and speak although she remained unconscious.
In truth, her movement was a result of the high fever, and the words she muttered were unintelligible.
Nevertheless, it was better than they had feared the previous evening.
Elizabeth remained in the room, lost in her thoughts, watching as her friend struggled and whispered the same name: “David.” Elizabeth could no longer bear it; if Darcy brought the colonel with him when he returned, she would have an honest, forthright talk with the colonel.
“Miss Bennet, if you do not get some rest this instant, I will ask Mr Bingley to see that the servants tie you to your bed,” said Mrs Spencer, entering the room.
“You ate nothing at all! This is not to be borne, and I will surely not accept it! I will not have you ill; I cannot bear to have two ladies suffering.” Her decided voice admitted no resistance, and Elizabeth could only smile back at her.
“You must not fear, Mrs Spencer, I will not become ill. I simply cannot eat anything. As for sleep, it is out of the question for now.”
“Out of the question? Young lady, do you know to whom you are talking? I have asked that a bath and some food be prepared for you in your room, and then you will go and sleep for at least a couple of hours. Only then, if you wish, may you come and take my place while I sleep a little. I will send Georgiana to rest too, and I will not allow any of you to disobey my order. Do I make myself clear?”
Her severity was half in jest, yet she was not joking. Even more, Elizabeth could see the reason and wisdom in Mrs Spencer’s demands. And in truth, she dearly longed for a warm bath.
“Very well, Mrs Spencer. I can see I stand no chance of winning this argument.”
“Indeed you do not. So let us not fight in vain.”
∞∞∞
After half an hour spent in the tub, surrounded by hot water and immersed in her thoughts, Elizabeth felt significantly better; her spirits rose as her body relaxed, and she was certain she would need no sleep at all—only a few moments of rest on the bed.
All would be well; her hopes were stronger than at any time in the last few days.
And Darcy would return soon; she could sense that.
If he were only there, half of her worries would vanish, and the other half would be easier to bear.
She allowed her thoughts to fly to him and her memories to recollect the comfort and safety she felt in his arms. Her mind was still full of him as her exhausted body claimed its long-needed rest. His face was the last thing she “saw” before she fell asleep, and she smiled in her dreams, her heart melting from love and longing.
A few hours later when she opened her eyes, struggling to awaken and understand where she was, Darcy’s face was the first thing she saw.
She certainly was still dreaming, and she closed her eyes, desiring the image to linger.
But his lips gently pressed upon her eyelashes to open them, as his fingers caressed her hair; his scent, more powerful than any essence, and the tenderness of his touch proved to her—again—that no mere dream was as wonderful as the reality of his presence.
He was finally there—and all would be well!