Chapter Fourteen
“Where is Mr. Collins?” Jane asked wearily as she and Charlotte ascended the stairs.
“I sent him over to the church. Today is Saturday, and as I cannot help with the flowers and arrangements for tomorrow, I sent him with Maria to consult with the verger and his wife.” Charlotte compressed her lips.
“Mr. Collins said some rather unChristian things about Lizzy yesterday and I made it clear that I felt the sentiments unworthy of him, and that he should spend his time today in church consulting the Lord and meditating on God’s love for all mankind and willingness to forgive, rather than Lady Catherine’s intolerance for anything which does not precisely suit her wishes. ”
“I say, well done, Charlotte,” Elizabeth said weakly, overhearing the last of that little speech as they re-entered her room. “It is about time someone pointed out to Mr. Collins that Lady Catherine, benevolent and omniscient as he believes her to be, is a poor substitute for the Almighty!”
Both Jane and Charlotte smiled to hear Elizabeth sounding so much like her usual pert self. Hurrying to her sister’s side, Jane clutched her hand. “Oh Lizzy, dearest, you have given us all such a fright!”
Elizabeth’s smile was bemused. “Jane – I cannot understand – why are you here?”
Jane looked at Charlotte, unsure what to say. Charlotte seated herself on the other side of the bed reached out to take Elizabeth’s other hand in hers. “What do you remember, dearest?”
Elizabeth’s head still hurt abominably, though the small dose of laudanum Charlotte had administered was dulling the pain to a slow thump, instead of frantic drumming. She frowned, glanced at Jane.
“I remember Mr. Darcy coming to see me,” she said haltingly, “when you were all gone to dinner at Rosings. We – argued, and he left. I was upset, and I went to bed before you returned.”
Charlotte shook her head. “That was the day before yesterday. Do you remember anything of yesterday at all?”
Wide-eyed, Elizabeth started to shake her head, grimaced, and said “No! Why, what happened?”
“You suffered a nasty fall,” Charlotte said after another speaking glance at Jane. “Colonel Fitzwilliam found you fallen down a bank into the stream that runs along the eastern lane. Your head was bleeding.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth blinked a few times. “Well, that explains why my head feels as though it is cracked open; it is!”
“Do not joke about it, Lizzy!” Jane said fiercely, clutching at her handkerchief and blotting her eyes. “I have had the fright of my life! But do you truly not remember what happened before your fall?”
“You should rest now, Lizzy,” Charlotte said, cutting her eyes meaningfully at Jane. “Doctor Trent will be back to see you soon and I do not doubt he will have a lot more questions for you.”
Elizabeth sighed, her eyes closing. “I feel so very tired.” Her fingers tightened around Jane’s for a moment. “I am glad you are here, Jane – I’m so sorry about Mr. Bingley…” her voice trailed off to a whisper, her fingers going lax.
“I care nothing for Mr. Bingley!” Jane cried out, very much overwrought. “Only that you should be well again, Lizzy!”
But Elizabeth had once again lapsed into unconsciousness.
Jane covered her face with her hands and sighed raggedly, rubbing hard at her cheeks. Moving behind her, Charlotte laid her hands on Jane’s shoulders gently and rubbed, trying to ease her.
“Breathe, dear Jane. All will be well. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam will help us to find whoever did this terrible thing and bring him to justice.”
“But Lizzy,” Jane said into her hands. “Lizzy’s reputation. She will be ruined, Charlotte!”
“I am assured of the gentlemens’ discretion,” Charlotte said quietly, “and other than the two of them, only you, I and the doctor are apprised of the truth of the situation. We will endeavour to limit the knowledge to that group only.”
Jane only shook her head. “The truth will out, Charlotte, you know it as well as I…”
“The truth is that nothing happened,” Charlotte said fiercely, “at least as far as Elizabeth remembers!”
“Someone knows, Charlotte,” Jane said quietly but coldly. “The man who did this to her knows.”
They looked at each other for a moment.
“The man who did this to her knows,” Jane repeated slowly, “and only we two, the doctor, and the two gentlemen, besides?”
“That’s right,” Charlotte nodded. “So if we hear anyone else speak of it…”
“We could trace the rumour back to its source, and find the culprit!” Jane brightened excitedly.
“I do not think that should be our task, dear Jane,” Charlotte managed a small chuckle. “Colonel Fitzwilliam offered his services to track down the miscreant, and I have no doubt that Mr. Darcy will be just as eager to help.”
“Who is this Colonel Fitzwilliam you keep speaking of?” Jane asked in confusion.
“Why, you met him downstairs – oh, I daresay you did not,” Charlotte said, and Jane blushed.
“No, I fear I was too agitated – oh dear, I believe I must go and apologise to Mr. Darcy.” Jane touched her fingers to her brow agitatedly. “I struck him! Whatever must he think of me?”
“He will think that you were quite rightly inflamed with rage on Elizabeth’s behalf, and think the more of you for it,” Charlotte embraced her warmly. “But I am afraid you really should apologise to him anyway.”
“Will you stay with Lizzy?”
“Of course I shall! We shall not leave her alone for a moment, between the two of us, Jane,” Charlotte vowed.
Jane smiled wearily and kissed her cheek before straightening her spine and descending the stairs again.
Mr. Darcy was hunched over in an armchair, hands pressed to his eyes, when Jane re-entered the parlour.
A tall, handsome brown-haired man – who she recalled now had indeed been present before, he had given her his handkerchief, which she still held clutched tightly in her hand – rose from a kneeling position at Mr. Darcy’s side and made her a graceful bow.
“Miss Bennet.”
She glanced at Darcy, who seemed unaware of her presence, lost in his own distress, and shrugged mentally. Dropping a slight curtsy, she managed a small smile. “Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“At your service, Miss Bennet. I regret our lack of formal introduction, but…” he gestured a little helplessly at his cousin. “I am afraid Darcy is in no fit state to be of assistance.”
“He seems uncommonly distressed, Colonel?” Jane could not help but say queryingly.
“Of course, he…” He stopped, peered at her.
“You do not know,” he said, enlightened.
“Darcy must have hidden his feelings very well while in Hertfordshire, but considering how much Miss Elizabeth told me of you and how close the two of you are, I would have thought that she would have written to you about their courtship here!”
“Their what?” Jane blanched with shock, found the colonel suddenly at her side, taking her elbow and guiding her to a chair clear across the room from the distraught, oblivious Darcy.
“Darcy has been courting Miss Elizabeth ever since we arrived in Kent some weeks hence,” the colonel explained quietly, kneeling before her. “In his own, inimitably useless way.”
“I do not understand,” Jane said plaintively. “Elizabeth…” glancing at Darcy, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “The very first time they saw each other, Mr. Darcy said to his friend that he found Lizzy tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him. She overheard, and…”
“And she was thoroughly offended,” the colonel murmured, beginning to add things up in his head, “and being Miss Elizabeth, she probably said something pert and not a little rude to try and gain some measure of revenge. Darcy was intrigued… and has quite failed to realise that she has never forgiven him, even while he fell in love with her for the way she refused to swoon over him like every other woman he knows.”
Jane stared, her eyes wide as saucers.
“My cousin is an absolute idiot,” Fitzwilliam said with great feeling, and Jane had to clap her hand over her mouth in order not to laugh out loud. If she began, she felt that she might never stop.
“Perhaps – perhaps we might take a turn about the garden so that we can discuss – these developments without distressing him further?” she whispered at last. “I owe him a very great apology, but I do think that I would like to understand better what has gone on these last weeks.”
“It is never a hardship to escort a lady as lovely as yourself around a garden on a fine spring day,” Fitzwilliam said charmingly and not at all untruthfully, standing and offering his arm.