Catch No Evil （Catch-22） #4
She would no longer surrender one sense to fear.
She could and would play and sing again, and she would do it with pleasure…
eventually. Perhaps, some day, she might be able to follow the advice she had given her sister, and could even address Mr Darcy with aplomb, or at least apologise for not allowing him to offer redress.
Of course, she would have to do it by letter, written by Anne and passed stealthily through Lady Catherine, but she owed the man that much.
For the moment, Elizabeth resolved to exchange real courage for whatever had passed for it before.
She sat at the pianoforte until sounds of approach echoed in the parlour, then quietly made her way to her room to tend to her head.
She knew Hannah, the maid, would check on her nearly as soon as she entered, and could perhaps bandage her injury and help her make herself presentable before the rest of the house descended into panic.
Such a plan was too optimistic by half, but it was all she had.
~~~
Before leaving to check on the hopefully engaged couple, Darcy determined he needed to get the colonel to Pemberley as soon as possible, and get his care under the direction of his own physician.
He owned a hunting lodge that would do for the task, though there was also a perfectly suitable lodge a few miles away on the Rosings estate he could use if necessary.
Darcy had no special concerns about the local Hunsford doctor, but that gentleman had not been attending the Darcy family for two generations.
He would be more comfortable with his own physician, which suggested Derbyshire was the best place to be.
The colonel might also need a nurse for a time, but she would have to be trustworthy and silent. Richard’s commanding officer might know someone who acted in that capacity, or Darcy would have to ask someone else. The fewer people who knew what happened, the better.
He probably owed Jane Bennet the truth. As much as it would distress the lady, she was tougher than she looked, and honour demanded she know the entire story.
Perhaps she would know someone trustworthy to act as nurse.
He would make that decision later, though, as there was no hurry to acquaint anyone with the unpleasant situation.
He tried not to consider too deeply whether that was kindness or procrastination.
Darcy chuckled. After a decade in the first circles of society, with all the finest families in England, the only people outside his family he truly trusted were Bingley, three footmen he had not met that morning, and the collective eldest three Bennet sisters.
The two eldest were clearly beyond reproach in every way.
He also judged Mrs Collins entirely trustworthy, but he would never burden a wife with knowing something she could not share with her husband.
Darcy knew decisions made in anger were more likely to be wrong than right, so he resolved to defer his choices regarding his cousin for some time.
Once Jane Bennet was happily married, there was no rush to do anything.
While he had been tempted to let his cousin finish the job, he just could not allow any man to die by his own hand.
Even Wickham would not have been allowed to continue had he been the one hanging.
Right or wrong, the church condemned suicides to the lowest levels of Hell, and Darcy could not deliberately allow anybody that fate.
If his cousin wanted to be dead so badly, he could go back to Spain or France and find a Frenchman willing do the honours.
The first step was to get him reasonably isolated and give him a chance to either calm down or reflect on his own behaviour. His cousin’s actions with Miss Bennet were so far out of character that Darcy would not be satisfied until he understood the reason; or at least could pretend he did.
The doctor recommended a nurse should be employed to tend the damage to the man’s neck and the injuries from the fight.
He suggested someone with experience with life and death—perhaps a war nurse.
Darcy sent an express to Fitzwilliam’s commander, both requesting some additional leave and asking if he could arrange for a nurse.
~~~
True to expectation, Hannah came in and threw a right proper fit at Elizabeth’s condition.
Naturally, a fit of rage for Hannah was indistinguishable from an ordinary person’s tut-tutting over a child’s skinned knee, so Elizabeth could endure it.
Hannah procured warm water and rags, cleaned away the blood, and washed the young lady’s hair.
Elizabeth suspected Hannah had a more than professional relationship with one of the footmen, Mr McKean.
Hannah left Elizabeth, ensured nobody observed them, and pulled him in for his professional opinion.
The man was not a doctor, but he had been an assistant surgeon in the army and knew his way around a head wound.
He enjoyed his work as Miss de Bourgh’s footman immensely.
Both young ladies he cared for were amiable and pleasant, and in service, hardly anybody ever shot at him.
Mr McKean examined the wound carefully, gave Miss Bennet some laudanum he kept convenient for emergencies, then produced a small needle and thread he had liberated from the army on his discharge, and set about the disagreeable task of putting a few stitches in her head.
He found it fortunate that the wound was in her hair.
It was inconvenient for stitching, but the stitches would be covered and would not require a bandage, which would help prevent Miss de Bourgh from panicking.
Miss Bennet was tough enough to endure it, and all would be well.
The stitching done, he wrapped her head with a good bandage, agreed to return with Hannah in the morning to check the wound and make it as invisible as possible, and went to his own bed while Hannah helped Miss Bennet into hers.
~~~
Jane Bennet went to bed the happiest she had ever been. The unpleasantness with the colonel was entirely forgotten, and she could not wait to write Lizzy. She was unhappy that her dear sister could not stand up with her but otherwise very satisfied with the day’s activities.
Her last thought before sleep was to wonder if all brides felt that way on their first kiss, and if so, how on earth all the wives of the world kept the information from the maidens?
She was astounded by the vastness of the conspiracy, and quite looked forward to being on the other side of the divide on the morrow.
~~~
Darcy went to bed with such a conflicted heart that he knew not where to turn.
He had always considered himself, his cousin, and Bingley as something of a triumvirate.
Now one of them was to leave the other two behind in their bachelor state, and Darcy was for the first time in his life jealous of another man.
Darcy had money, status, a great estate, and all a man could want in life.
He also had great responsibilities, a broken cousin, and little chance for marital happiness… unless… unless?
Other thoughts were much more satisfying than dwelling on his jealousy of Bingley, his anger at his cousin, and his frustration with the situation. He just might have a solution, but it would take time and effort.
It was time to start making plans, and Darcy went to sleep with a surprisingly light heart, given the events of the week.
~~~
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam went to bed in profound shame.
His entire week had been one degradation upon another.
As if his previous conduct were not sufficiently wretched, he had proved so poor a soldier that he could not even dispatch a single unarmed and unresisting victim.
He had longed to join the scores, perhaps hundreds, of men he had sent from this life in years past; instead, he remained a disgraced man, regarded only as an invalid.
Sleep was slow to come, and no happy thought arose to break the gloom. Eventually, exhaustion and injury prevailed, and he sank into a slumber plagued by nightmares. That night, they were worse than usual.