Chapter 6
Elizabeth woke to a silent house. She shivered; her mother always instructed the maids not to set the fires early on the day after any assembly or ball.
But she wished she would be exempt from that instruction; she could never sleep past her usual hour — and they had been home quite early, of course, missing even the supper.
Poor Cook had been rousted out of bed to supply a meal, but Elizabeth had excused herself claiming fatigue and Sally had slipped upstairs from the kitchen with a plate for her.
Elizabeth made a face at the still untouched plate — even now, her appetite had deserted her and she climbed out of bed, splashed her face perfunctorily in the cold water remaining in the ewer and buttoned herself into her warmest day dress.
She would go downstairs, perhaps Papa would have risen early, too.
There was a quiet tap on the door as Elizabeth sat before the mirror, pinning her hair up into a simple knot, and Jane slipped into the room. She was still in her nightshift and robe and Elizabeth shook her head.
“Oh, Jane! Let me wrap the blanket round you. This room is too cold to sit as you are.”
“I wondered if you would still be abed, Lizzy. I knew you would not have gone to sleep very early.”
“Even without much rest, you must be aware I am no lie-abed!” Elizabeth forced cheer into her voice, Jane’s whole manner was too anxious. “You are not to worry, Jane. What has happened will be, and we just have to wait and see.”
“But I cannot believe that rumour was already saying you attacked Mr Darcy! They are imputing all sorts of unpleasant things that he did to make you react in that way!” Tears stood in Jane’s eyes and her hands twisted in her lap.
“Oh, Jane! It will soon become obvious when the right questions are asked. How on earth could I have inflicted that level of injury on a gentleman as tall and strong as Mr Darcy? Especially as I was only in my ballgown and walking shoes.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. She had dropped the bag holding her dancing slippers near where she had been waiting for the coach.
Hopefully someone would have picked them up, Elizabeth would have to have a new ballgown made; that was certain.
The expense would be heavy enough without having to purchase new dancing slippers too.
She glanced over at the sorry heap on the floor; her beautiful gown was covered in blood, mud and other detritus; it could not possibly be saved.
She suddenly felt rather sick. It was Mr Darcy’s blood. So much of it! Would he be well? Jane’s hand on her hand was calming and Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I must go to speak to Papa. Thank you, Jane. You are my comfort and strength.”
Her father was sitting in his library, sipping coffee, and looking over yesterday’s paper. He was always a little short-tempered until The Times arrived from London, and when wet, muddy or icy roads delayed it until noon, he was even more irascible. Elizabeth eyed him warily.
“Good morning, Papa. May I ask for tea to be brought in here so that we can talk of yesterday before breakfast?”
He nodded reluctantly and put the paper down. Perhaps it was as well that he would listen properly.
She rang the bell to order tea, and sat in the chair nearest the fire. It was her tiredness that made her cold, she knew. “You said last night that you would want a full accounting of what happened last night.”
“Yes, I suppose I had better hear it,” he sighed. “I have already had a note from Sir William that he will call after breakfast.”
She nodded. “After you permitted me to leave early, I called for the coach and then went to the retiring room to change my shoes and put on my cloak.” She tried to keep her voice unemotional.
“Then I went to wait outside as the house seemed too warm. I think the coachman didn’t expect to be called quite so early, so it was a while.
Then I heard some voices. Rough men and Wickham was trying to keep the others quiet.
He said to stop complaining and then that he’d come out soon enough. I didn’t know what it meant.”
“If there were strange men about, why didn’t you go back inside?” Papa sounded stern.
“I didn’t think of that, but the coach wasn’t going to be more than another minute or two. And I was standing at the side of the steps in my dark cloak. No one could see me.” She paused to see if Papa had anything else to say.
“Mr Darcy came outside, I don’t know why.
He walked past me and then I think he heard those men.
He walked over and began speaking to them, warning them out of the park.
” She swallowed. “Then one of them hit him on the back of his head and he fell down. They were all kicking him, Papa. His face and in his ribs. The footmen were all inside. I ran to see if I could help and screaming for the footmen to follow. I don’t know why they were not right behind me. ”
“How many men were there?”
“Three of them, Papa. They began to run before I was there — as soon as I screamed.”
“Hmm. That is something, I suppose.” He looked down at his fingers, tapping idly on his desk.
Elizabeth hesitated. “I do not … I suppose you have not heard from Netherfield this morning — how Mr Darcy fares?”
“I have not. Sir William may be able to tell me more when he comes.”
He sat forward. “We came outside, but you will have heard in the coach on the way home some of what rumours your family heard. It is not good, Lizzy, not at all.”
“Surely, when they hear the story and the extent of his injuries, it will be obvious I could not have been the perpetrator!” Elizabeth wanted him to defend her.
“Of course only the foolish will believe it.” He looked at her over the top of his spectacles. “But we know that a story doesn’t need to follow the facts to cause damage to a reputation, Lizzy. You were alone, and holding a man in your arms on the ground. It may yet be difficult to defend.”
She stared at him in dismay. “Papa …”
He held his hand up. “We must wait, Lizzy, and see what transpires; perhaps Mr Darcy will recall what happened. But we must be patient and not try too hard to defend you. That will be better coming from others.”
Elizabeth knew that Papa would not trouble himself to protect her if others might. “Should I have let him die?”
“Not at all. I only hope that this may resolve.” His fingers still tapped endlessly on his desk.
He thought Mr Darcy was far too high to agree to marry her, and she agreed. She didn’t want to marry him; a man who thought she was merely tolerable. A knock on the door was followed by the housekeeper announcing that breakfast was ready.
“Very well.” Papa stood up. “I hope you are feeling strong, my dear.” Elizabeth nodded, and followed him across the hall.
The breakfast table was already nearly full, only Lydia and Kitty were not yet downstairs. Mama was in full flow, her excitement obvious. “And when he is recovered, of course he will have to marry her. Oh, my clever Lizzy! Ten thousand a year!”
Jane had to raise her voice slightly over their mother’s effusions. “There was no compromise, Mama, none at all. Lizzy was merely rendering aid to an injured man. It would be utterly wrong to call compromise.”
Elizabeth took her seat beside Jane, drawing strength from her sister’s presence.
“The Good Samaritan is a parable we must all strive to emulate,” Mary intoned. “I laud Lizzy for giving Mr Darcy aid.”
“That is all quite enough, ladies.” Papa bent a stern look on Mama, but he could surely not expect her to obey his strictures, and indeed, she barely listened.
“A spring wedding would be lovely.”
“Mama!” Elizabeth lost patience. “I am not marrying Mr Darcy. It will never happen, and I am not compromised.”
“Cousin Elizabeth is right, Mrs Bennet.” Mr Collins's unctuous voice intruded. “Mr Darcy is already betrothed to his cousin, Miss de Bourgh. Of course he cannot break that betrothal.”
Mama looked deflated. “But what about Lizzy? He cannot leave her ruined.”
“You see, Mama,” Elizabeth said desperately. “If you spread the rumours, then all your daughters will carry the stigma of ruin and all your hopes will be as naught.”
Mama hesitated, and then there was a rising noise as Lydia and Kitty burst in giggling and nudging each other.
“La! All the noise down here this morning. We were talking until dawn so I ought to have been permitted to sleep later than this! Oh, Lizzy, you will be so rich and can send us money.”
Papa bent a sardonic eye on his youngest daughter.
“You had best not spread rumours, Lydia, or you will likely marry a servant as you will be ruined for anyone better. If you had been to breakfast on time, you will have heard that Mr Darcy is betrothed to another, so he cannot marry Lizzy.” He rose in the sudden silence.
“I will away to my library, since all sense at the table has disappeared.”
It was not for that reason, Elizabeth knew. She had seen Sir William arriving in his coach and knew Papa had, too. She put down her knife and fork unhappily; her appetite was not in evidence this morning.
She wondered why she had not been called through to Papa’s library before now; it seemed to have been a long time, and she sat beside Jane on the sofa in the parlour, attempting to concentrate on her embroidery.
Mr Collins had gone upstairs, and without his dampening presence, Mama had revived her hopes of a rich daughter.
The door opened and she looked up, expecting this was the summons for her. But Sir William entered officiously, Papa trailing behind him, looking grim. Her heart plummeted.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Sir William bowed. “I would not have you anxious about anything. Your courage is being much lauded. Mr Darcy is alive, and although his injuries are severe, they would have been much worse had you not intervened.”
“Or if she had not attacked him, you mean.” Lydia laughed coarsely. “What did he ask of you, Lizzy, that you took exception to?”
“Lydia Bennet! Go upstairs this instant,” Papa barked.
“How such an ignorant girl can even be in this world, I do not know. How on earth you could even think that a young lady all alone would be strong enough to cause such dreadful injuries on a tall strong young man?” He took a step towards Lydia when she didn’t move.
“Now, Lydia. You will be in the schoolroom for the next month complete. I do not want to see your face again!”
Lydia paled. “Mama, you cannot let him do that!”
“Two months complete, if I must have you dragged there!” Papa was rarely enraged as he was now.
Elizabeth lowered her head while her youngest sister reluctantly and noisily departed. All her sisters were looking anywhere but at Papa, she noted.
Sir William cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Yes, well I am sure everything will be sorted out in no time. I have collected statements from the principal people, and will go back later to find out if there is other useful evidence. They expect Mr Darcy’s cousin down from town soon.
” He nodded pompously. “I thank you for the information you gave to your father, which I will incorporate into my evidence.”
It was nearly lunchtime when Elizabeth managed to escape to her chamber for a few minutes. Mama was alternately complaining about the absence of Lady Lucas and Charlotte, who always came the day after a ball, and stirring the rumours of scandal with her wild imagination.
It stung, and Elizabeth had to leave the room before she retaliated. Mr Collins had returned downstairs, driven from above by Lydia’s screeched objections to being locked in her room. He was no help to the situation in the parlour at all.
She smiled wryly at her faint reflection in the window. She had quite expected her cousin to pay his addresses to her that morning, but the shades of scandal must have made him think again. That was at least one good result of the previous evening.
Her heart ached. No, nothing good had come of the ball, and she wondered if Mr Darcy was recovering.
She remembered the weight of his head on her arm, his need of her, and reached for her clean handkerchief, wondering what had happened to the bloodstained one she had pressed over his bleeding cheek.
He had reached up and attempted to tear it away.
She laughed darkly; he was almost certainly not a good patient, and she felt for those caring for him.