Chapter 17
It was that particular hour of the night, just before dawn, when nature itself seemed to wait in perfect stillness for the sun.
The windows stood wide open in the hope that the fresh, cold air would help Darcy recover.
Back in his cousin’s room, the colonel finally sat down to rest for a few moments, but when he saw that his aunt refused to leave, he spoke severely, his face etched with disgust and grief.
“I have always thought myself to be a seasoned soldier, ready to go to war, to fight, and to die. But the torment I have endured these past few days cannot be compared with anything I have experienced before. And I can only imagine what Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana have suffered, all because of the schemes of this raving madwoman.”
“All will be well now. As long as Fitzwilliam recovers, nothing else matters,” Elizabeth whispered.
The colonel watched her with admiration.
He shared a special understanding with Darcy, one he did not have with his brother.
They were not given to intimate confidences, yet each knew the other’s true feelings.
Darcy had fallen in love with Miss Elizabeth long before asking her to marry him, even during his stay at Netherfield.
From that time onwards, he had begun to change, and to his cousin the transformation had been unmistakable.
At first, the colonel had harboured some doubts.
Still, after meeting Miss Elizabeth at Rosings in March, he had become convinced that she was the perfect match for Darcy.
Only now, after observing her throughout the past day and hearing the whole story, had he fully understood the extraordinary strength of their attachment, and he was determined to defend them from any further danger.
Much to everyone’s joy and relief, an hour later Darcy began to show the first signs of recovery.
He could not yet respond, but he moved, whispered, and even tightened his grasp upon Elizabeth’s hand.
They decided to remain at Rosings for a few more hours until Darcy had fully recovered his senses.
Unreasonable to the very end, Lady Catherine refused to leave her chair.
Parker was eager to attend his master. He knew how greatly Mr Darcy disliked appearing anything less than impeccable.
He hurried to his duties as soon as he saw the first signs of returning consciousness.
The valet asked everyone to leave the room, trying to conceal the tender smile that appeared as Miss Bennet obeyed his request with such reluctance.
Three times she returned to the doorway, unable to leave without assuring herself that her betrothed was safe.
“I assure you, madam, he is in good hands, and nothing can happen to him now,” Parker said.
Only then did Lady Catherine rise and slowly leave the room. In the hall, Mr Collins waited for her with his usual humility and offered his arm as he escorted her to her apartment.
Finally alone with his master, Parker, assisted by a servant, washed and shaved Darcy before dressing him in the fresh clothes he had brought from London.
Eventually, Darcy opened his eyes and looked about him in astonishment.
At first, he could not understand where he was or what had happened.
He tried to speak, but found himself unable to do so.
Parker helped him drink some water, following the colonel’s repeated instructions.
Only then did Parker invite them back into the room.
For a while they sat in silence, each of them needing a few moments of peace after everything that had happened.
It was some time before Darcy managed to speak, and the first word he whispered was the name he loved most.
“Elizabeth.”
Tearfully, Elizabeth took his hand in hers.
“I am here, my love. I am here.”
Their eyes met for a long moment, and the world faded around them.
“Have we married, Elizabeth?” he asked. They could see how difficult it was for him to return to reality and put his scattered memories into order.
“No, Fitzwilliam, you have not married me yet,” she answered, her voice poised halfway between concern and gentle amusement.
“Why not?” he asked, looking slowly around the room as though expecting to discover who had prevented it.
“Our wedding is in two weeks, my love.”
“And I strongly advise you to marry Miss Elizabeth,” the colonel said, continuing in the same light-hearted vein that briefly lifted the sombre atmosphere. “She has proved herself a most formidable lady, quite ready to fight for what belongs to her.”
Then Darcy noticed Georgiana. He smiled at his little sister, still unable to understand why she was in his bedchamber.
“What are you doing here, Georgie?” he asked, though he did not wait for her reply.
Then his eyes found Mr Bennet.
“Mr Bennet is here as well. He has seen us together,” he said to Elizabeth.
“Yes, my love. He is here to make certain that you marry me.” She smiled into his still unfocused eyes.
“Was I reluctant to marry you?” he asked.
Everyone laughed.
With every word he spoke, he returned a little more to himself.
“What happened? Where are we? Bingley? Cousin? Why are you all here?” Darcy whispered, still barely coherent.
“We are at Rosings,” the colonel replied.
“At Rosings? How did I come here?”
Speaking with obvious difficulty, he struggled to understand the situation, for he remembered nothing of the past several days.
“I left you in Meryton,” he said, looking at Elizabeth.
“Yes, my love. But now I am here with you, and all I want is to see you well again.”
“Am I ill?” he asked, before sinking back against the pillows, exhausted by the effort of speaking.
“You should rest now. We can talk later. Would you like some water? Something to eat?” Elizabeth asked tenderly, gently caressing his face.
When he opened his eyes again, he kept her hand prisoner in his own.
“I want to know,” Darcy said to Elizabeth. “Why… is everybody… in my room?”
“Rest for a little longer. I promise you will know everything,” the colonel answered.
Parker adjusted the pillows behind Darcy’s back, helping him into a sitting position. He drank some tea, then a few mouthfuls of coffee, whilst the colonel related the whole story in a calm voice, as though recounting nothing more extraordinary than the events of an ordinary day.
Throughout it all, Darcy never released Elizabeth’s hand. As his cousin spoke, disbelief gave way to anger, and anger to profound disgust.
“Lady Catherine brought me here?” Darcy finally asked, utterly bewildered, pressing a hand to his aching head. His thoughts were still too confused to fit together, yet he longed to understand everything.
“Yes,” the colonel answered.
“I remember nothing.”
“Do you remember me?” Elizabeth asked gently, attempting another jest, unwilling for him to distress himself.
“Mostly,” he replied in the same spirit. He kissed her hand, meeting the mock reproach in her narrowed eyes before turning once more to the others. “When did I leave Meryton?”
“It was a week ago, sir,” Parker answered.
Darcy still found it impossible to believe. “I remember being in London, but how did I come to Rosings?”
The others remained silent, instinctively leaving Parker to answer. It was his place to do so.
“The day after we arrived in London, sir, you paid a visit to Lady Catherine.”
“The letter! I received a letter from her,” Darcy said, making a visible effort to remember. For an instant, understanding lit his face before fading again. Some memories would no doubt return with time, though certainly not all of them.
“Yes. It appears she devised this monstrous scheme to accuse you of compromising Anne and force you to marry her.” The colonel rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“She put laudanum into your tea or your brandy. Then, with the help of Mr Collins and her servants, whilst you were insensible, she brought you here.”
“Anne?” Darcy stared across the room towards his cousin.
Unable to bear his gaze, Anne quietly left the chamber, Mrs Jenkinson following at once.
“My God,” Darcy whispered, trembling. “I thought it had been a dream. Lady Catherine…standing beside the bed…telling me…I was to marry Anne.”
“It was no dream,” the colonel replied, the anger still unmistakable in his voice. “Only a vile scheme carried out in broad daylight.”
“Where is Lady Catherine now?” Darcy asked sharply, attempting to rise.
“Do not get up yet, Darcy. You are still very weak. She is in her apartment for the present, and Mr Collins is with her. Measures must be taken against her. She has lost her reason. We shall speak to my father and decide together what is to be done. For now, you must return home and recover.”
“Yes,” Darcy answered quietly. Then he kissed Elizabeth’s hand once more, her smile doing more than any words to restore him to himself.
She nodded as she met his eyes.
“I want us to leave as soon as you are strong enough,” she said softly. “I do not wish to remain another moment in this dreadful place. You must see a physician, then rest until you are completely well. Nothing matters to me more than your health, my love.”
Now that the first terror had passed, Elizabeth became aware that she had gathered Darcy into her arms without a thought, driven only by the need to protect him. She made a slight movement as if to withdraw, but Darcy protested at once, already sinking again towards sleep.
Elizabeth looked instinctively towards her father, only to find him smiling at them. After a week of anguish and confusion, seeing them together was the most comforting sight he could imagine.
“Do not be foolish, my precious daughter,” he said quietly. “He is your future husband, and you have every right to remain beside him. Do not surrender that place, whatever the foolish world may say.”