Chapter Five
“Charlotte!” Maria scratched at the bedchamber door.
“One moment!” Charlotte called, hastily checked Elizabeth over again.
She had dressed her friend in a warm nightgown that buttoned right up under her chin, swathed her in blankets.
The bruising around her mouth could not be hidden, but surely that could be attributed to her fall just as easily as the cut on her head, still bleeding sluggishly under the wet cloth Charlotte had placed over it.
“Yes, Maria?” Charlotte opened the chamber door, nodded as Maria thrust the basket forward.
“Thank you, my dear!” She had already burned Elizabeth’s dress on the fire; it had served to warm the room nicely.
“Ah, good, this is the ointment for her head, it will stem the bleeding, though Doctor Trent advised me to wait until he returned to apply it.”
“Poor Lizzy!” Maria approached the bed anxiously. “And both the gentlemen so worried about her!”
“Both gentlemen?” Charlotte queried.
“Yes, the colonel and Mr. Darcy are both downstairs in the parlour, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked me to go down directly with a report on how Lizzy does; what should I say, Charlotte? Oh, she looks so dreadfully pale!” Maria wrung her hands.
Charlotte stood frowning, bemused. She did not know what to think.
She was quite confident Colonel Fitzwilliam had not been the one to assault Elizabeth – he had, after all, brought her back to the Parsonage and had evidently been most concerned for her welfare – but Charlotte had long suspected Mr. Darcy of having a tendre for Lizzy.
Could it be possible? Could they have quarrelled – might Lizzy have somehow provoked him? Knowing her friend’s tendency for unguarded speech, Charlotte could well believe that – but surely Mr. Darcy would not have… no, no, surely not.
Although… what if Charlotte was not mistaken in his regard, but in what he planned to do about it?
They knew, after all, that the Master of Pemberley was as far above an Elizabeth Bennet as she was above a common chimney sweep.
What if Darcy had not proposed marriage to Lizzy, but a rather less honourable arrangement?
Lizzy could well have lost her temper and screamed like a fishwife, Charlotte knew her to be capable of it, and Darcy might have become enraged, inflamed beyond reason…
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Mr. Darcy was not capable of such an awful act. She was sure of it.
“I will go down and speak to them, Maria,” she said. “Will you sit with Lizzy? She is resting quietly, and I am sure Doctor Trent will return at any moment. I must find out where Mr. Collins has gone, as well, I cannot think where he might be.”
Maria gulped nervously, but she nodded. “I’ll stay with her,” she said bravely, taking a seat by the bed and Elizabeth’s hand in hers. Charlotte rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder for a moment before taking her leave.
“Mrs. Collins!” both men turned to her as she entered the parlour, and she looked from one to the other of them. Darcy was very pale, she could not help but notice, his hands shaking as he grasped the mantel-piece.
“Mrs. Collins, how does Miss Bennet? I pray you, do not keep us in suspense!” he rasped out, and she gave him a small, reassuring nod.
“I believe she will be well, sir. She is comfortable for now, and we await Doctor Trent’s return to treat her head wound. He has gone to Rosings to fetch ice, which I understand is most beneficial in cases such as this, to prevent the wound from swelling and placing pressure on the brain.”
“Has Miss Bennet aroused from her stupor yet? Does the doctor think she will do so soon?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
“She has not, and he did not say, sir. I hope it will be soon.”
The colonel frowned to himself, falling silent.
Darcy released the mantel-piece, paced a few steps back and forth, clearly distressed.
“Poor Miss Bennet! Please, Mrs. Collins, is there anything that we can do? Anything in my power, you need only name it – I can go to Town, fetch another doctor, more medicines – anything, if Elizabeth will only be well again!”
He was so distraught that Charlotte forgave him the slip regarding Elizabeth’s name, though she saw the Colonel’s eyes flick over to his cousin. Reassured that Mr. Darcy could not possibly be Elizabeth’s attacker, she smiled gently at him.
“Everything that can be done, is being done, Mr. Darcy. Your offer does you great credit and I will ensure that Lizzy’s family is apprised of it.”
“Poor Miss Bennet; that such a thing should happen to her! I thought it better to bring her here than Rosings, Mrs. Collins, for fear Lady Catherine would not have her nursed within the house, and might insist on having her moved, though it be detrimental to her recovery.” Fitzwilliam shook his head sadly.
He knew Lady Catherine all too well, knew that his aunt would have been shrilly insisting that Elizabeth was faking her injury to get under the same roof as Darcy.
The old lady’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed how often Darcy’s eyes rested on Miss Bennet’s pretty face, of that Fitzwilliam was sure.
Charlotte stared at the colonel curiously.
Why would Lady Catherine act so? she wondered.
How should she know the nature of Elizabeth’s injury?
If she did, certainly she would be claiming Elizabeth to be a fallen woman and demanding her out of the house at once, but – only Charlotte and Doctor Trent knew what had happened to Elizabeth, and Charlotte was very sure that the doctor would not speak of it, and most certainly not to Lady Catherine.
Of course, there was one other person who knew what had happened. Elizabeth’s attacker.
Charlotte drew in a slow breath, her eyes still on Colonel Fitzwilliam. “It is well that you brought Elizabeth here,” she said finally. “She is my dearest friend, and until her family arrive, I promise there can be no one more devoted to ensuring her recovery than myself.”
“You cannot imagine how glad I am to hear that, Mrs. Collins,” Darcy said a little hoarsely, and much to Charlotte’s surprise, he seized her hand and kissed it. She blushed a little, stunned.
“Come, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam said then. “The greatest service we can do for Miss Bennet at this moment is to leave Mrs. Collins to care for her, I believe. I pray that you will send to us if there is anything, anything at all, that we may do to assist you, ma’am, for we are entirely at your disposal,” he bowed to Charlotte.
“Indeed, I shall not leave Rosings until I am assured of Miss Bennet’s recovery!” Darcy vowed vehemently, and Charlotte smiled slightly at him again.
“You are too good, sir.”
“And I pray, if it is not too much trouble – may I call each day to beg news? I would not for a moment take you from Miss Bennet’s side, but…”
“I will make sure that either my husband or my sister is available to speak with you, sir,” Charlotte said kindly.
“I thank you.” Darcy stood staring longingly up the stairs for a moment, until Fitzwilliam nudged him in the back.
“Come, Darcy. Let us be away.”
They made their farewells with great civility, and, shaking her head, still confused over her thoughts, Charlotte hurried back up the stairs, eager to return to Elizabeth’s side.
“Perhaps we could hire a nurse, to assist Mrs. Collins,” Darcy said as they walked back along the lane towards Rosings.
“I doubt it will be necessary; Miss Lucas is there to assist as well, and no doubt they will soon have a full house. I sent Expresses to Miss Bennet’s father and to her sister in London, at Mrs. Collins’ behest.”
Darcy paled, thinking of Jane Bennet and Elizabeth’s anger towards him on her sister’s behalf. “I do not know how I am to face Miss Bennet,” he said guiltily.
Fitzwilliam looked at him curiously, but said nothing as they walked onwards.