Chapter 10 #2
But it seemed it was not to be. “You have heard of his injuries, I expect?” Colonel Fitzwilliam did not wait for an answer.
“His broken nose has been reset and although he wears the starched cloth splint still, in a few days he will need only wear it at night or when resting. He is likely to attain his handsome features once more. The rest of the bruising and swelling to his face is already receding.” He waited this time for her to murmur a response, although why he thought she would be concerned about his looks, she did not know.
She glanced at Papa, sitting watchfully — his expression sad — behind his desk.
Their visitor cleared his throat. “Yes, well. His ribs continue to pain him, and being unable to breathe without pain has caused his weakness to linger, but the apothecary believes he is now out of danger regarding the risk of pneumonia or other infection; this will continue to improve, as will the actual wound on the back of his head.”
He looked at her, and his concern seemed to sharpen.
“However, the biggest concern is that he has suffered a significant concussion. Some of his memories are returned, and he finds the recollections rather mortifying, I am afraid. But the biggest concern is the change in his temper and self-control.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “From what I saw of him before, I thought him one of the proudest and self-controlled gentlemen I had ever seen.” She was sorry she had not hidden her dislike a little better; their guest hesitated.
“Lizzy …” Papa said warningly, and she bowed her head.
“I apologise.”
“It is better that I know,” the colonel said softly. Then he continued. “I have, unfortunately, seen many battle injuries of the head, and Mr Jones tells me he is also familiar with the consequences.” He shifted uncomfortably on his chair.
“You see, injuries to the head are unpredictable things. With good fortune, his uncertain temper may begin to recover in a few weeks; but there is no way to tell. If it has not resolved, or at least begun to, within say three months, then the physicians will say the changes are likely to be permanent.” His grave expression alarmed Elizabeth.
“Can you tell me how his temper appears now, Colonel?”
He smiled tightly, uncomfortably. “He is, of course, mortified that he cannot yet command his outbursts, but I can assure you there has been no sign of any physical violence. At present, he is rather irritable when in pain, or if the light is too bright or the noise too loud — it brings on megrims.” He leaned forward.
“I would not have you think the worst, Miss Elizabeth — although I cannot guarantee that there will be improvement. But the fact there has been no violence in his outbursts even in these very early days, gives me much hope for the future.”
He rose to his feet and crossed to the window; so like his cousin that Elizabeth had to still a smile. Then he turned back to her.
“Miss Bennet, I would not have had you listen to our request without all the facts being known to you. If you are afraid or otherwise concerned, I must assure you that you may refuse.”
Jane. The thought came to the forefront of her mind. Her choice was no choice at all. “Make your request.” She was glad her voice was even. Controlled. Her amusement was dark at that thought. She would have to have the control for them both.
He came to stand before her. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet. My cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, begs leave to offer you his hand in marriage.”
That was it. She had expected it, really. But the formality chilled her. No protestations of love, of course. Not even words of care, of security, of … anything that she might have dreamed of.
“I am very sorry, Lizzy.” Papa’s voice was hoarse. “You must think of the family.”
She glanced at him. “I know. I do not do this for Mama or for Lydia, and I will not have them think it is so. Or even for me.” Her sadness threatened to overwhelm her. “I do this for Jane. Jane and Mary and you. I will do what is needed.”
She turned to face the colonel. “I thank you. Please inform Mr Darcy that I accept his offer.”
“He will be honoured, madam. I thank you on his behalf.” The colonel turned to Mr Bennet.
“I will see it all done, sir. The ceremony will be very soon, and private, given Darcy’s appearance. All will be done with the greatest discretion.”
He turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, Darcy is my greatest friend as well as my cousin. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving him and hope that you will allow me to welcome you to the family.” He bowed over her hand, pretending not to see the tears standing in her eyes.
She curtsied, unable to respond and control her wish to weep. As she slipped out of the door, she heard him speak to Papa. “About the settlement …”
By the time he rode away later, Elizabeth had indulged in a hearty bout of tears and mopped her face. Jane and Mary were sitting close beside her, and Mama barrelled down the stairs.
“I have just seen that handsome officer go. Tell me, are you to wed his cousin?” The sight of Elizabeth’s face convinced her. “Oh, I knew how it would be! Ten thousand a year, it is as good as a lord. What pin money you will have, what fine carriages!” She looked properly at Elizabeth and frowned.
“Tears? I hope you did not cry in front of the colonel. It is most unseemly. And now, with the rumours scotched, Jane will marry Mr Bingley and you can put the girls in front of other rich men!” She fanned herself.
“Oh, oh, I knew all would be well. I must see Hill and arrange the wedding breakfast. His uncle is an earl, you know. The neighbours will envy us and …”
“Mrs Bennet.” Papa’s voice was like ice. “There will be no celebrations. The wedding will be within a week. Very private, at Netherfield. You will not be attending. Return to your chamber this minute, I have a pamphlet to show you of an asylum for discarded wives.”
Mama swayed, and Jane rushed to her, casting a reproachful look at Papa.
He looked unmoved, and Elizabeth looked down, so no one would see her rolling her eyes.
Papa's barbs were having to get stronger each time to elicit a response.
Elizabeth would not assist with Mama; she was far too angry with her for that.
Outside, the hoar frost persisted, lying white and still across the grounds of Longbourn. She could wish her heart was as peaceful.