Treat No Evil （First Person）
By the time Bingley and the new Mrs Bingley left for their wedding trip, I had repeatedly put off any decision regarding whether to inform her of the situation with Richard until the choice was taken from me.
Eventually, if one procrastinates long enough, there is no way to broach the subject; and there seemed little purpose in troubling her with particulars so soon after her marriage.
She would either learn of my cousin, or she would not.
If she was vexed with me for keeping the truth from her, she could simply join my aunt in their disapprobation.
I reasoned that the two or three ladies could commiserate for a while over my obstinacy, spend a pleasant hour or two trying to outdo each other with descriptions of my general lunkheadedness, then eventually forgive me after another hour or two of grovelling.
They would probably even thank me for the entertainment.
I had received word from Richard’s commanding officer, General Smythe, that he had particularly good nurse leaving the hospital in London forthwith.
It probably seems disingenuous that I thrashed the man within an inch of his life, only to save him from completing the deed, to be unaccountably anxious that the nurse might be able to help him.
Such was the vexation of dealing with a man clearly broken, but possibly not beyond redemption.
In the end, no matter what he did, he was family, and I had high hopes the nurse had some notion what to do, as I certainly had none.
When I first came upon Richard accosting Jane Bennet, he was made to suffer for all the rage I had accumulated over years of dealing with George Wickham.
It was ironic. I had prevented Richard from hunting down Wickham and killing him for his actions in Ramsgate.
Had I not dissuaded him, he would have either challenged the scoundrel to a proper duel, or he might have simply done away with him one night.
Now, after allowing Wickham to nearly ruin my sister’s life, I found my most beloved cousin in a similar position, and nearly killed him.
Someday, I imagined I would have to reckon with whichever god was toying with the irony of my life.
That it was Jane’s sister who eventually took care of Wickham once and for all was merely a double portion of the quirks of fate.
Anxious to get the man away from Rosings before more people learned what had occurred, I dragged my cousin out at first light.
I tried to force food upon him, but he was incapable of eating anything.
I do not mean he was listless and exhausted, or that he disdained the food; he simply could not eat.
By his expression, it seemed the thinnest gruel the kitchen could produce went down like a sack of stones.
I hoped he would be able to swallow broth or gruel by the end of the day, or the next at worst, but for the moment he was as content as he was likely to be.
I could not drag a single word out of the man, or just about any other reaction for that matter.
He simply sat morosely where I directed him, neither looking at me, nor saying or doing anything.
If he did happen to look my way, his eyes appeared those of a corpse already rotting on the battlefield.
When I told him to rise and go to the coach, he allowed Barrow to assist him, since he was still weak as a kitten, without a word or any care for his appearance.
Barrow tried to put a cravat on him, and he showed the only spark of initiative of the morning by refusing it.
I debated riding in the coach, but elected to ride instead.
I have no idea whether I was being kind or cowardly, but I could not imagine several hours in the carriage with him.
We reached the coaching inn where we were to await the nurse, and I sent him up to his room with Barrow, while the footmen took care of settling us into our chambers and arranging for a light supper.
Unable to engage in any employment, I sat nursing a brandy and staring at the empty grate, when one of my outriders entered to announce the coach would arrive in a few minutes.
I straightened my appearance to the best of my ability and went out to meet the nurse the general sent.
I hoped desperately she would be able to tell me what to do, since I had not the vaguest notion.
~~~
As the coach came to a stop, I opened the door myself and stood aside to hand the young nurse down.
I knew from the general’s note that she was a gentlewoman who had taken up the mantle of caring for men in the hospital more than a year past, which immediately earned my respect and admiration.
It could not have been easy. However, the general, in his customary obtuseness, neglected to mention anything about her.
I did not know where she was from, her age, her situation, or even her name.
All became clear when she met my eyes and gasped in surprise. “Mr Darcy!”
I checked my surprise and offered a broad smile, considering my acquaintance with the young lady.
“Miss Lucas! Well met, indeed. I am happy to have you here.”
I babbled on for at least another minute, sounding increasingly like Mr Collins or her father Sir William, while Miss Charlotte Lucas seemed thoroughly perplexed.
“Happy, sir? How can you know me well enough to form an opinion? We have the most trifling of acquaintances.”
She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.
I imagined after a year in an Army hospital she had become accustomed to either speaking her mind in certain company or holding her tongue in others, with little in between.
An Army hospital surely did not follow the strict rules of propriety, and I was certainly of no mind to let her suffer embarrassment over candour I found refreshing.
I laughed to set her at ease, though considering my behaviour in our previous acquaintance might have frightened her more than had I remained taciturn. I set out to put her mind at ease.
“I met you several times a year ago, Miss Lucas. I danced with you at that first assembly, had supper at your father’s house, and danced again at the Netherfield ball, much to my delight. I am indeed quite happy to see you.”
She relaxed slightly, but I needed to say more.
“And if my own observations were insufficient to form an opinion of your worthiness—which I assure you is not the case—or I had no faith in General Smyth—also untrue—I have your unequivocal recommendation from Miss Elizabeth Bennet. That is all the justification I need for nearly anything. You would not have me distrust Miss Bennet, I presume?”
The lady was quite calm now; I need not have worried about her anyway. She had surely seen and done worse than converse with a man like me.
Coming to the point, she smiled at the mention of the woman who would always be Elizabeth in my mind. “Who and where is my patient, sir?”
This lack of ceremony was likely appropriate in the hospital, and I was impressed. She seemed exactly what we needed, and my pleasure at her acquaintance was not to be denied.
I bowed deeply. “We have much to discuss. Would you care for a quick meal, or would a bath to remove the road dust be preferable?”
She glanced at her dress. The roads had been in reasonably good condition, so she was not especially dusty, and Selina had not been derelict in her duties; not a soul could find anything wanting in Miss Lucas’ appearance.
She had the look of someone woken recently, suggesting she had rested in the coach, but I would not push her too far or too fast.
“I would prefer a meal and some information, if you do not mind. In the hospital, I rarely had a bath more than once a fortnight, so I imagine I can survive another few hours.”
I nodded and extended my arm. She stared at it a moment as if she had never seen anybody do such an odd thing, then awkwardly reached up, and took it. I was not in the least offended, and with a nod to Selina, we headed into the inn.
~~~
I had arranged a private room and sent Selina to attend to Miss Lucas’ effects, which consisted of a single trunk, and instructed her to take her supper.
Even though Miss Lucas seemed beyond the reach of propriety, I was not, and I did not wish her uncomfortable; I therefore replaced Selina with Mrs Mills.
I led Miss Lucas to a table holding provisions.
“Mrs Mills will stay in the corner. She is nearly deaf, and even before that she was entirely trustworthy, so we will observe all the proprieties, but our conversation will be private. Do you object?”
“Of course not. Lizzy left somewhat abruptly last year, but she trusted you before that, and as you recently said, good enough for Lizzy Bennet is good enough for me.”
I was happy she was willing to trust me and even tease a bit, though each reference to Elizabeth pierced my heart.
After the incident at Netherfield, I never knew what anybody from Hertfordshire would think of me, and I was pleased she was either ignorant of our party’s bad behaviour or not particularly bothered by it.
Not a single word about the last incident before she left had likely been spoken to anybody.
If I had not already highly esteemed the Bennet sisters, I certainly would now.
Mrs Mills took her seat in the far corner while a serving maid brought a bottle of wine, glasses, and plates. I had no idea what Miss Lucas preferred, so I requested a variety.
We sat to table and partook of the food for a few minutes, but neither was in any mood to delay it overly long. Out of politeness I waited for her to begin, but it did not take more than ten minutes.
“Might you tell me why I am here, sir?”
I admired her desire to get the unpleasant business over. She knew perfectly well it would be unpleasant, or she would not be here, so I set out to enlighten her.
“General Smyth tells me you have some experience with this sort of thing. My cousin—”