Chapter 8
Elizabeth’s Bedchamber
Pemberley
Two Hours Later
“Would it help if I put a cushion under your foot, Miss?”
Elizabeth smiled at Molly, the maid assigned to her by Mr. Darcy, and said, “Let us try that, yes.”
Molly carefully lifted Elizabeth’s sore foot, inserted a small pillow, and lowered the limb gently. “How is that, Miss?”
Elizabeth was lying supine on the couch with two pillows under her head and her injured foot now on a pillow, and she took a moment to consider before she said, “That feels wonderful, Molly. Thank you.”
The girl bobbed her capped head and asked, “Would you care for some tea and scones, or would you like to rest now?”
“I would like to rest, thank you. Perhaps you could return in two hours?”
“Of course, Miss. If you need help sooner, please ring the bell.”
Elizabeth nodded and leaned back against her pillow.
Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her like a blanket, the sort of exhaustion that followed on the heels of strong emotion.
Sleep beckoned, but for the moment at least, curiosity was stronger.
She and the Gardiners had planned to tour Pemberley anyway, but of course staying in the grand house allowed for a leisurely, intimate examination which was not possible during public showings.
Elizabeth concluded that whoever had decorated this parlor had fabulous taste.
The room was of medium size and possessed an elegant simplicity.
A few lace doilies and a china bowl festooned the tables, and a clock sat ticking quietly on the mantel.
The entire room was perfectly tidy, with not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere.
The centerpiece of the room was the great window opposite the door, whose lace curtains had been pulled back to allow an unobstructed view outside, and what a glorious view it was!
A rose garden of surpassing beauty stretched out beyond the window, with green and purple leaves interspersed with velvety blossoms of mauve and red and pink and white.
Bushes and beds and vines on their trellises all grew elegantly in their own appointed places, providing a feast for the eyes.
Elizabeth adjusted herself on her pillow with a sigh of mingled gratitude and weariness.
Mr. Darcy had offered her a bedchamber on the upper floors, but no doubt that would be most inconvenient given her injured foot.
Her uncle had suggested a parlor here on the main floor, and she had been installed with admirable rapidity.
The master of the estate had suggested having servants bring down a bed for her comfort, but Elizabeth declined, as she was perfectly comfortable on her couch.
It was just the right blend of firmly supportive and softly cushioned, and it was adequately wide for her as she was slender and petite.
It was a deep relief to simply lie here, covered by a light blanket, and rest.
It would, however, be at least a little while before sleep could claim her, as her mind mulled over the events of the day.
When she had risen from her bed this morning, she had naturally had no inkling of the turns the day would take, the dastardly kidnapping attempt and her own role in stopping it.
Her life had taken an irreversible turn, and she would never again be quite the same girl who had sat that morning reading letters in the sitting room at the Lambton Inn.
She remembered, incredulously, leaping onto Mr. Wickham's back. Had she really tried to choke him?! Elizabeth was amazed at her own daring. It was evidently true that, when faced with danger, one did not stop to think but only acted.
Her ankle ached and her cheekbone throbbed.
The bruise tomorrow would, she reflected ruefully, be something to behold.
Nonetheless, Elizabeth regretted none of it.
Miss Darcy, fair and sweet, was safe upstairs in her room, shocked and shaken perhaps, but uninjured and secure in her brother's care.
A bruise or two and a damaged ankle were a small price to pay for the safety of a young girl.
The exhaustion was growing more insistent, and the birdsong outside was as soothing as the cool, dim blueness of the room. Elizabeth twitched the blanket higher up to her shoulder, breathed out a long, soft sigh and surrendered to the alluring tug of sleep.
***
Drawing Room
Pemberley
An Hour Later
Darcy stepped into the drawing room and nodded at Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, who were standing side by side at the window.
He was aware that their presence here was more than a little odd.
Cheapside in London was not the sort of place where a gentleman would live; therefore, Mr. Gardiner was almost certainly not a gentleman.
On an ordinary day, Darcy would not invite such a man and his wife to dwell in his guest wing, but today was not ordinary.
Georgiana had nearly been abducted by George Wickham in connivance with the governess whom Darcy himself had hired, and Mr. Gardiner’s niece had saved the day and been injured in the process.
“Lord Throckmorton,” he said, gesturing toward the nobleman who had followed him within, “may I please introduce Miss Bennet’s uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner? Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Lord Throckmorton.”
Lord Throckmorton was some fifty years of age and the local magistrate. He nodded as the couple curtsied and bowed appropriately and then said, “Madame, Sir, we are all grateful for the bravery of your niece.”
“Elizabeth is an active and courageous young lady,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “We are indeed proud of her actions today.”
Darcy said, “You have every reason to be proud, Madame. Shall we all sit down?”
Everyone obeyed, and Lord Throckmorton said, “I will wish to speak to her at some point, but for now, perhaps you can tell me of your situation. Mrs. Younge, at least, will be brought up on charges, and perhaps Wickham and Zimmer if they are captured. It would be preferable if Miss Bennet could provide eye witness testimony, but that will be contingent on how long you plan to be here.”
The Gardiners exchanged glances, and Mr. Gardiner said, “We were planning to stay for another two weeks, but that depends somewhat on Elizabeth’s recovery from her injuries.”
“Indeed,” Darcy said, “the journey south might well be difficult for her given that her ankle is, according to the doctor, either badly sprained or possibly broken.”
“I agree,” Gardiner said, “though I cannot stay here for much more than a fortnight, as my business requires my presence in London. Moreover, our four young children are staying with my niece’s family in Hertfordshire, and while they are being well cared for, my wife will wish to return to them before too long. ”
“I think,” Mrs. Gardiner said practically, “that we can wait a few days before worrying about such matters. Elizabeth’s foot may improve substantially in a short while.”
“True,” Lord Throckmorton said, rising to his feet. He turned to Mr. Darcy and said, “Sir, I will keep you apprised of the situation with Wickham and Zimmer and Mrs. Younge.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said. The two men bowed to one another, and Lord Throckmorton departed. A side door into the drawing room opened a minute later, and Georgiana Darcy, now dressed charmingly in pink, entered the room.
“Georgiana,” Darcy said, stepping over to pull his sister into a quick embrace. “I did not expect you to come down again today. Do you not wish to rest?”
Georgiana shook her head and allowed her brother to guide her over to a comfortable chair by the window.
“I found I could not sleep,” she said when she had settled herself. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Wickham’s face and feel Mrs. Younge’s tight grip on my arm. I do not want to be alone.”
Darcy regarded her worriedly. Georgiana’s eyes were shiny with tears, and while he was an intelligent and competent man, he was not certain how to help his sister through what was doubtless a traumatic event.
Oh, how he wished that his mother had lived long enough to provide advice for his young sister.
Mrs. Gardiner stood, walked over, and sank down onto an ottoman near Georgiana.
“Miss Darcy,” she said kindly, “it is entirely reasonable to be very upset by a most serious event. By the grace of God, no one was badly hurt, and you were saved, but it is also reasonable to grieve your sense of security.”
Georgiana reached out to take the older woman’s hands in her own.
“That is it exactly,” she said fervently. “I was in Lambton, with my governess. How could something like this happen?”
“I am very much to blame,” Darcy said heavily. “I was the one who hired Mrs. Younge, after all.”
“I cannot imagine how you are to blame, Brother,” Georgiana said with surprising firmness. “She showed every sign of being a reliable, well-informed lady. Indeed, I am still shocked that she could do such a thing!”
Darcy hesitated and then said, “I think it is almost certain that she has known Wickham for some time and sought a position as your governess in order to plan this horrible attempt. In any case, you need not worry about her or her two conspirators. She is securely locked up, and I am hopeful both men will be arrested soon.”
“Thank God for that,” Georgiana said.
***
Elizabeth’s Parlor
Pemberley
Later
The molding high on the ceiling was of an interesting repeating pattern, which lined up with the strips of wallpaper.
Elizabeth’s gaze traced along it absently in time to the rhythm of Molly’s needles.
The maid was largely quiet, feet tucked decorously together beneath her skirts where she sat on a chair placed so that the sunlight fell on her workbasket and knitting.
She had informed Elizabeth that if her new mistress did not mind, she would keep herself busy knitting scarves and mittens for her young siblings.
Elizabeth did not mind in the least. She was comfortable, her stomach pleasantly full and the surroundings incredibly soothing.
A low table had been drawn near to hand, conveniently within Elizabeth’s reach.
A tea service sat on it, though the used dishes had been cleared away by the efficient Molly.
A cup of water and a plate of cakes remained in case Elizabeth should decide that the rather substantial tea she had already eaten was insufficient for her recovering strength.
The door opened to her right, and she carefully levered herself to a sitting position. Mrs. Gardiner smiled, closed the door behind herself, and crossed the room. Elizabeth gamely smiled back.
“My dear,” Mrs. Gardiner said, sitting on the chair opposite her niece, “how are you feeling?”
“I am well enough. I slept a while, and so long as I do not move my foot, it does not pain me much.”
Mrs. Gardiner nodded and took a moment to inspect her niece’s countenance. “You will, I fear, have quite a bruise on your face tomorrow.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “Yes, I fear so. I have not looked at a mirror yet, but given how it feels, I daresay I look dreadful.”
“Not dreadful, darling, never that,” Mrs. Gardiner said immediately. “Now I suspect that you are bored, and Mr. Darcy’s library is apparently amazing to behold. Is there anything in particular we could fetch for you?”
Her niece’s eyes brightened at these words. “A magnificent library? Is it on this floor?”
“It is, but I think you should wait until your crutches arrive before you make your way there.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Crutches?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy is arranging to have crutches prepared for you, which will allow you to make your way around this floor, at least.”
“Oh! That is very kind of Mr. Darcy.”
“Indeed, he seems a very good gentleman, though he has every reason to be grateful to you, my dear. You saved his sister.”
Elizabeth straightened and said fiercely, “And I would do it again without hesitation. That dear girl and those dreadful villains! I only hope that I marked Mr. Wickham at least a little!”
Mrs. Gardiner chuckled. “I have no doubt that you did.”