Chapter 8
As soon as the carriage stopped in front of the manor, Elizabeth and Jane jumped out and ran into the house. Neither of them waited for Mr Darcy to step out and walk carefully, still limping.
The servant informed them the master was in the drawing-room, but they asked about their father.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, please come in,” Mr Bingley said, stretching out his arm to invite them.
“Mr Bingley, we are deeply grateful for everything you have done, but we must see Papa! Please!” Elizabeth insisted.
“Mr Bennet is with two servants and Mr Jones. He has been placed in a warm room, and he is carefully attended. Please, let us enter and wait together. I can imagine your torment, but there is nothing else we can do now.”
He offered one arm to each; Jane took one first, then Elizabeth, reluctantly. Mr Bingley guided them into the drawing-room, where his sisters and Mr Hurst were waiting. They all look dressed for dinner, and their expressions conveyed impatience.
The sisters sat together on a sofa; Jane greeted everyone, and Elizabeth only nodded.
“Would you like some tea?” Mr Bingley offered.
“No, thank you,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her hands together nervously. Jane accepted, and Mr Bingley poured her a cup himself.
“Perhaps we should all have some dinner. The food must already be cold,” Miss Bingley said with obvious annoyance.
“We apologise for troubling you. We have probably ruined your dinner and your entire evening,” Jane said in a low voice.
“You have no reason to apologise, Miss Bennet, when it comes to such a tragic situation,” Mr Bingley replied.
By that time, Mr Darcy had appeared too, and he fell into an armchair with a sigh. Only then did Elizabeth realise that he must still be in pain, and yet he had involved himself in the search for her father. Her eyes met his and locked for several moments, and she hoped he could see her gratitude.
“So, are we going to eat, since we have to wait regardless?” Mr Hurst asked.
“Please do,” Mr Bingley responded. “All three of you.”
“Mr Darcy, will you join us?” Miss Bingley offered.
“No, thank you,” he answered coldly.
As the party of three stood up, Mr Collins entered. He looked joyful enough, shaved and clean, wearing clothes that were obviously borrowed.
“Oh, my dear cousins, you are here! What do you say to this unfortunate situation? Mr Bingley was kind enough to offer me—”
“Mr Collins,” Elizabeth interrupted him harshly, “I am glad to see you are unharmed. Can you tell us what happened to my father?”
“Dear cousin Elizabeth, it was a real misfortune! After riding for a couple of hours, we neared Netherfield — which, I must say, is an excellent property, even your father agreed on that — and Mr Bennet said he knew a shorter path back to Longbourn House, as it was already cold and raining, and—”
“Mr Collins!” Elizabeth cried, unable to hide her frustration. “For heaven’s sake! Can you speak clearly and succinctly, for once? We only want to know about the accident and about my father!”
The others immediately gazed at her with equal amounts of amazement and reproach; Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, on their way to the dining-room, exchanged appalled glances.
Jane turned pale, and she gently touched Elizabeth’s hand in an attempt to calm her.
Mr Collins seemed to be struggling for air, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Mr Bennet’s horse slipped and fell. Then the horse stood up, but Mr Bennet rolled down… I called him but he did not answer. I could see nothing, so I went for help. Thank God I finally found Netherfield and I was welcomed with…”
His mumbling drew another cutting look from Elizabeth, so he stopped.
“How long was Papa out there in the cold?” she asked.
“I cannot say. I kept riding, looking for a house or someone to ask for help, but there was nobody. I am a stranger to these parts, so it was hard for me to—”
“I understand. Thank you for explaining it to me. I apologise if I sounded impolite or ungrateful. We are very worried…”
“That is understandable, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy interjected. “Everyone who knows what family love means can understand you.”
“Thank you, sir. If only…” Tears threatened to fall, and she struggled to hold them back. She felt Jane’s hand grasping hers, as though sharing the grief to make it less painful.
Mr Collins took a few steps, then he suddenly stopped in front of Mr Darcy.
With horror, Elizabeth saw the clergyman bow and say, “Mr Darcy, despite the dreadful circumstances, I must be allowed to declare my rapture and gratitude for the chance to meet you! You do not know me, but I have been given many details about your exceptional character, as I am blessed with your aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s protection, and—”
“Mr Collins, forgive me, but I cannot follow you,” Mr Darcy interrupted him after a few moments of bewilderment. “I must add my polite request to that of Miss Elizabeth. Please speak plainly and clearly. We are all too tired and too worried for such long phrases.”
The reproach — coming from Mr Darcy — clearly disconcerted Mr Collins, and his face coloured. Elizabeth’s eyes met Mr Darcy’s again, wondering whether they had been too harsh with Mr Collins, after all. Mr Darcy seemed to guess her concern, as he continued, his tone slightly friendlier.
“I understand you serve in the parish of Hunsford and you are Mr Bennet’s cousin, are you not?”
“Yes… Yes I am, sir.”
“Very well, Mr Collins. Now that we have clarified that, I would advise you to join Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst and enjoy a good dinner. It would certainly help you overcome the distress.”
The success of his words was immediate; Mr Collins could not possibly disregard Mr Darcy’s suggestion, so he went immediately to the dining-room. Elizabeth did not miss Caroline Bingley’s eyes rolling in vexation.
Therefore, only Elizabeth and Jane remained in the drawing-room with Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy. The silence was heavy, and each of them glanced at the door repeatedly, in eager expectation of news.
“May I offer you something to eat or drink?” Mr Bingley asked the ladies again.
Both shook their heads in refusal.
“Mr Darcy, is your ankle still hurting?” Elizabeth enquired. He seemed surprised by the question.
“Not so much as to worry you or to be mentioned, but I thank you for your concern.”
“I truly appreciate you coming to fetch us, sir,” Elizabeth continued. “As much as we appreciate Mr Bingley’s prompt actions that helped find Papa so quickly.”
“Bingley deserves all the praise,” Mr Darcy replied. “He was the one who organised everything within minutes. Any merit is his alone.”
“Thank you, Mr Bingley,” Jane whispered.
“Let us not speak of praise and merit,” Mr Bingley said, just as they were interrupted by the appearance of Mr Jones, which made Elizabeth and Jane gasp and hurry to him.
The apothecary sat in a chair, obviously delaying his report.
“Mr Jones, how is Papa?” Elizabeth begged.
“Miss Lizzy, I cannot tell…I simply cannot…” the man began apologetically.
“What…what do you mean?”
“I found no obvious wounds on Mr Bennet. There were some bruises, some scratches. He hurt himself while falling and rolling down through the trees, but nothing so dangerous as to threaten his life. Still, he has not woken up. He has not moved. He did not respond to anything I tried.”
“So…what do you mean?” Elizabeth repeated, struggling to understand while her head spun and hurt.
“Mr Bennet is breathing but not moving. He might have hurt his head — there seem to be some bruises there too. I cannot be sure of anything except that he is unconscious.”
“But will he be well soon?” Jane asked in a shy, fearful voice, grasping Elizabeth’s hand.
“I do not know, Miss Bennet.”
“Then what should we do?” Elizabeth asked again. Tears were burning her eyes and choking her voice.
“I took some blood… We shall watch his fever…and someone should supervise him all the time. Other than that, I simply do not know. Since he cannot eat or drink anything, he can take no medicine. I am truly sorry,” the apothecary declared, shaking his head despondently.
“Then who could know? What should we do? We cannot wait and watch him die!” Elizabeth raised her voice to match her growing turmoil.
“Mr Jones,” Mr Darcy interjected, “I hope you do not mind, but I shall send for my doctor. Dr Crawford is a physician. He possesses great experience with all sorts of cases. He might have an idea, a suggestion. He might have encountered such cases before.”
“Of course I do not mind,” Mr Jones replied. “In fact, I am quite relieved. I would have advised you to seek a second opinion, but there are no other apothecaries or doctors in the neighbourhood.”
“Then it is settled. Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, do you have any objections?”
“Objections? Not at all, sir,” Elizabeth answered, a glimmer of hope allowing her to speak. “But will Dr Crawford come?”
“He will, unless something extremely important keeps him in London. He has been our family’s doctor since before I was born.”
“Then please send for him, sir! We shall find a way to pay him, no matter how much it costs!”
“Miss Elizabeth, let us not speak of payment until we are certain Mr Bennet is recovered. I shall send a man to London immediately. Let us hope the doctor will be here by tomorrow night.”
“Thank you, sir…I have no words…”
“No words are needed, Miss Elizabeth. I believe you two may go to your father. Can they not, Mr Jones?”
“Yes, they can. Come, my dears, I shall take you there. I shall stay with him overnight; in case I am needed.”
Elizabeth followed Mr Jones, holding Jane’s hand tightly. They were both shaking, and her heart stopped when they entered the room.
Mr Bennet was asleep on the bed, covered in sheets, a strong fire warming the chamber. A servant and a maid were watching him from across the room.
Elizabeth walked up to the bed, shaking, gazing at her father.
He looked pale, and his breathing was barely perceptible.
On one of his hands was a red trace, revealing the bleeding.
She sat next to him, touching his bandaged hand.
It was warm but still. She then touched his face and placed a kiss on his forehead. Still no movement.
“I shall stay with him,” Elizabeth said.
“There is no need, miss. We shall all be here. There is nothing more you can do,” Mr Jones replied.
“I shall stay with him,” Elizabeth repeated. She turned to Jane, who was so pale and trembling so hard that Elizabeth feared she would faint.
“Dearest, you should return to Longbourn. There is no need for both of us to stay here. Mama must be worried sick. She needs comfort and needs your strength.”
“I know, Lizzy…but will you not need me?”
“I do need you, dearest, but we cannot afford to be together. We need to separate so we can support our entire family. Lydia and Kitty will return tomorrow. It is likely Aunt Phillips will come too, as soon as she hears the reports. You must be there to temper the chaos that will surely erupt.”
“You are right, Lizzy. We shall separate,” Jane agreed, embracing her tightly.
“Ask Mr Bingley for a carriage. I am sure he will oblige.”
“But Lizzy, what should we do with Mr Collins?”
“Dear Lord, I forgot about him. If you take him home, he will only add to the trouble. Perhaps Mr Bingley can keep him here till tomorrow. There are enough rooms, I believe. Mr Bingley will surely agree to anything you ask of him.”
“I do not want to ask him anything else, Lizzy. He has already done so much.”
“But you must, dearest. Please. There is nothing more important than Papa. If only Dr Crawford would arrive soon,” she whispered, then, seeing Mr Jones, she apologised.
“Do not worry, Miss Lizzy, I am not offended,” the apothecary replied. “I pray for Dr Crawford to arrive soon too.”
Tearfully, sharing the same despair and deepest fears, the sisters separated. Jane left the room, while Elizabeth returned to her father and sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in hers.
“I am here, Papa. Do not worry. I shall not leave you.”