Chapter 7
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam slowed his horse slightly as he turned through the gates of Netherfield Park, and considered the house. He had no inclination to admire it nor the grounds. All he wanted to know was how his cousin fared.
But he was pleased to see an attentive groom running to take his horse.
Richard swung out of the saddle to the ground.
“Walk him around for a bit to cool down. He has had a long, weary ride from town.” He patted the animal’s shoulder, and turned back to the groom.
“His name is Warrior, and I want him looked after well, please.” A final pat and he turned towards the main door, already opened for him.
His lips tightened; Bingley had not taken the time to write a proper letter.
Darcy attacked. He needs you as soon as may be.
Richard brushed at his dusty, damp greatcoat. Bingley would not mind that his guest was in a state of disorder. He ran lightly up the steps, aware of an unnatural hush. Bingley stood there, paler than he usually was, his characteristic grin missing.
As a footman took his coat, hat and gloves, Bingley spoke. “I am glad you are here so soon.”
Richard nodded. “My father’s coach is following with my trunk and batman. It is to be sent back after it has delivered them here, but I may want to send Father a note with it.”
“Of course. Will you come into the library, and I can explain exactly what seems to have transpired?”
“Can you assure me first that my cousin is not in immediate danger?”
“I can. He is quite agitated at the moment, which is why I think it would be better to speak down here. The apothecary is with him.”
Richard grimaced. It did not sound at all like Darcy. Once the door was closed and they were alone, he reluctantly refused a glass of brandy, but appreciated Bingley sending for coffee and something to eat. Richard had eaten nothing, having received the note before the breakfast hour.
“Can you tell me of Darcy’s injuries first, Bingley?”
His cousin’s friend stammered out a comprehensive list, looking slightly green. The man needed rather more of a backbone if he was to make a success of being a landowner, Richard thought irrelevantly.
“Very well. Now exactly what happened? As much detail as you can.” Richard knew Bingley would respond better to crisp instructions, the man was still shocked at what had occurred.
“Well, I was holding a ball here last night. I believe we had nearly one hundred people in attendance. I was talking to Miss Bennet much of the time, so I didn’t see what actually happened. I know Darcy danced with Miss Elizabeth and …”
“Miss Elizabeth who?”
“Oh yes. Bennet. Miss Bennet’s younger sister.
Then he stood around for some minutes before leaving the room.
” Bingley ran his hands through his hair.
“But I was not worried; as you must know, he does not like large events, and I thought he had gone up to his chamber. But apparently he went outside. The footmen saw him go out and down the steps. Then he walked away along the drive.”
“Was it lit?”
“Yes, there were torches.”
Richard nodded and Bingley continued. “Then next thing I knew was that the butler found me and said there was a woman screaming in the darkness, and he wanted to know what to do.” He took a deep breath.
“Of course, I led him and a group of footmen outside at once and we found Darcy lying bleeding on the ground, very dazed, and ...” He hesitated.
“I need to know it all, Bingley.”
“Yes, I understand. But it cannot be as it seemed. Darcy is not like that!” At Richard’s glare, he continued. “Well, Miss Elizabeth was kneeling on the ground. She had her arm under his head and was supporting him. And she was holding her handkerchief to a cut on his cheek.”
Richard nodded. “Could Darcy speak? What did this Miss Elizabeth say?”
Bingley swallowed. “He seemed dazed and kept struggling to get up, but she told him to lie still. She told me that three men had attacked him, but no one else saw anything.” He looked uneasy.
“I did what I could to stop the whispers, and we cleared the hallway before we took him upstairs on a litter. He — he seems very confused, Colonel. I don’t think he remembers anything.
And the whispers are that he …” Bingley seemed to steel himself to say this.
“The whispers are that he must have made a terrible suggestion to Miss Elizabeth if she would respond by attacking him like that.” He looked devastated just at having to repeat it.
“Apparently they were seen to have had an argument while they danced.”
Richard scowled. Poor Darcy. He would hate this. “Tell me, is this Miss Elizabeth a local lady? What is her reputation in the town?”
Bingley looked shocked. “Longbourn is second only to Netherfield in size, Colonel. Miss Elizabeth, like her sister, has good manners. She is lively, intelligent and caring. When her elder sister was taken ill here, Miss Elizabeth walked three miles across the fields to care for her. She is so dedicated to her sister.” He looked dreamy. “Miss Bennet is an angel.”
He gave a short, uneasy laugh. “Miss Elizabeth had many arguments with Darcy while she was staying here, although I think he enjoyed them — called them debates.”
Richard had polished off the plate and his coffee.
“Please take me to Darcy now, Bingley. That has all been very helpful.” So, Miss Elizabeth has been debating with Darcy?
And he asked her to dance? She might be inclined to compromise if her expectations have been raised.
But Darcy would hardly make an improper suggestion.
Importantly, why were they outside together?
He debated with himself all the way up the stairs, brushing past Miss Bingley. “I must see Darcy now, Miss Bingley, but I will speak to you later. One important thing is to stop all the talk. It could ruin Darcy.”
“But his face, Colonel! What did she do to his face?”
“I have yet to investigate, madam. Please excuse me.”
As he opened the door to enter, he noted the two footmen standing outside and repressed a grin. To deter Miss Bingley, I presume.
His gaze went at once to Darcy, noting the valet and a stranger standing beside him. The smell of a sickroom hit him afresh; he’d never get used to it. Camphor was burning, underlain by the sharp tang of vinegar — either Darcy was already feverish, or they feared one.
He crossed the room — it was not just his cousin who lay there, but his closest friend. Darcy was half-propped on pillows, his breathing shallow, and his face swollen with cuts and bruises, eyes blackened and the bridge of his nose swollen and crooked.
The sight of him shook Richard more than he wished to admit to himself. He looked up at the strange man and kept his voice low.
“I am Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy’s cousin.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“It is good that you are here, sir,” the man murmured. “I am Mr Jones, the local apothecary. Mr Bingley tells me that you and Mr Darcy are very close. It will be helpful for him to have you here.”
“How high is the fever?”
“It was never too high, and seems responsive to cool cloths,” the man whispered. “But the facial cuts were full of mud and gravel. It was difficult to clean them as Mr Darcy was so agitated. But when he becomes insensible we do more.”
“Is he taking laudanum?” Richard’s voice was heavy with doubt, and the other chuckled.
“Mr Maunder told us that he would never take it, and I must agree. But when he is confused, he sometimes takes a mouthful and, while most is spat out, he must have taken some. I admit, I would like him to take more; much of the time he is exceedingly agitated. A mixture, I believe, of confusion, pain and anger at something.”
Richard nodded. “I have some considerable experience of head injuries among my men, unfortunately. Many exhibit a change of personality and ungovernable temper.”
Mr Jones pursed his lips. “I am glad you are aware of it, sir. I am told the anger and impatience he is already showing is uncharacteristic of him.” Richard wiped his brow. “And the ribs?”
“I believe they are cracked, rather than broken. The pain is impeding his breathing, so a pneumonia is to be feared, but there is no collapse of the lung.”
That is something at least. Richard sighed. “Will his features be permanently rearranged?”
“We will have to wait for the swelling to resolve to know that.”
Richard thought the man seemed competent enough, although … “I believe my father will send the Darcy physician down here. It is no reflection on your competence, Mr Jones, but my father is a law unto himself.”
The man smiled faintly. “I had expected it. I hope he does not castigate me for not bleeding him; I do not feel it appropriate in most cases.”
“Neither does Sir Charles, so you are quite safe.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “Sir Charles Withinshaw? I will be honoured to make his acquaintance.”
The conversation stopped as Darcy stirred, and they both bent over the bed. Richard took his hand.
“I am here, Darce. I will do whatever is needed. You must rest and recover.”
Darcy tried to open his eyes and winced. “Too bright.”
“Then keep your eyes shut, Cousin. You can recognise my voice I am sure, so you are not obliged to look at my ugly face.”
Darcy gave a faint smile and Richard was glad he was recognised. The apothecary looked approving and stepped back to collect a feeder cup of water. Richard nodded; he knew water was important if consciousness fluctuated.
He grinned, not expecting Darcy to like the cup. He was right. As soon as the lip touched his cousin’s mouth, he lifted his arm and tried to push it away. A groan burst out.
“Darcy!” Richard kept his voice low. “You are your own worst enemy. Stop trying to move and causing more pain, and just take the water like you should. Then we can talk.”
Darcy scowled. “You always were a …” then the flash of temper seemed to abate and he sank back on the pillows.
Richard glanced up. “Will I cause more injury if I lift his head? Then he can take a glass of water and may drink more.”
After Darcy had drunk two glasses of water in quick succession he sank back down, exhausted with the effort.
“Wha … what happened?”
Richard bent closer to him. “It appears you were set upon. The details I will discover later, when I have sat with you a while.”
Soon Darcy was insensible again, and Richard sat beside him. Mr Jones nodded. “I am glad he has recognised you. He was much calmer this time when he woke. It has been difficult to calm his agitation.” His murmur was quiet.
“I understand. I will remain here. Have you a chamber here to rest? You look as if you ought, and I will call as soon as he stirs.”
Richard sent Maunder away too, and soon he was alone in the dim quiet of the room. He studied his cousin and shook his head. The proudest man he knew; and the deepest wound would be the mortification of having been set upon, of needing rescue — and by a lady, no less!
A lady alone could not have inflicted wounds as deep as this. Darcy had been attacked by more than one man. He could not have prevailed, but that would not stop his cousin feeling acutely humiliated.
The door opened quietly and Bingley entered, carrying a writing case. He glanced at his friend and his expression was wretched. But he pulled himself together.
His whisper was almost inaudible. “If you would wish to write a note? Lord Matlock’s carriage is ready to return to London.”
Richard nodded and took the writing case to the table in the corner, as Bingley sank into the chair beside Darcy.
Father
Darcy was set upon, his injuries are severe, but not life-threatening unless infection steps in. The apothecary seems competent.
I will stay here to be with him and to investigate what happened, if you might be so good as to inform General Garth that I need a few weeks leave of absence.
Richard
He folded the note and handed it to Bingley. “Thank you. If you can seal it and then ensure it goes with the coachman?”
Bingley nodded. “I am glad he can rest now. It was a difficult night.” He rolled his eyes.
“Caroline was the worst. I have warned her away, but if she attempts to enter, you have my permission to have her ejected. Even the sound of her voice in the hallway agitates him, so she is not permitted anywhere near here.”
Richard couldn’t suppress a grin, wondering if Darcy feared her, or whether her voice pierced his head, but he merely nodded, and Bingley whispered that he would have refreshments sent up.
Richard wanted to stay beside his cousin, but it seemed scandal was brewing.
There were many things to be discovered, most importantly whether this Miss Elizabeth could identify the men if he found them.
If she had disturbed them then it was likely she had saved Darcy’s life.
But if she had enticed him outside to compromise him, then she might have placed him in harm’s way.
He wondered which it was — whether she had saved him or caused the harm.
I must call upon the family tomorrow, and discover it for myself.
And then, the rest of the town. I hope the scandal can be stopped.
For many hours Richard kept watch at the bedside. Finally Darcy stirred again and Richard reached for the glass of water.
But his cousin seemed dazed. He was gesturing at the nightstand, not the glass. “No. No, white.”
Richard frowned. “There’s nothing else on the table, Darcy. There was only the glass of water.”
“No. White.” Darcy’s voice was rising, and he began to thrash around. His valet slipped into the room.
“What is he asking for?”
Maunder turned his back on Darcy. “He saw the lady’s blood-stained handkerchief on there when he was first being treated, sir. I have removed it from his sight, but he still remembers.”
Richard frowned. “Was he holding it when he was brought up here?”
“No, sir. It was covering a wound on his cheek.”
“Where is it now?”
Maunder slid open the small drawer and revealed a delicate lady’s handkerchief, stained and crusted with blood. “I was going to get it laundered and returned to the lady, but I had not yet recalled it.”
Richard reached in and took it out, the dried blood stiffening the cloth in a crumpled state. He could scent lavender. He turned and put it in Darcy’s hand, and his cousin relaxed. “No one will take it from you, Darce. Until you ask me to get it washed.”
He watched as Darcy lifted his hand, and brought it to his chest over his heart. Then he opened his eyes and looked at Richard. His murmur was difficult to understand. “What is to be done?”
Richard shrugged, and sat back down. “First, you must recover.”
Interesting.