Page 2 of Requirements for Love (Love in London with Mr Darcy #3)
“Are we to know the name of my niece’s rescuer?” Mrs Gardiner asked when the housekeeper left.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam.” He bowed.
Elizabeth started as her aunt made the rest of the introductions. Fitzwilliam was Mr Darcy’s given name. It must be a curious coincidence. Surely this pleasant, accommodating man could not be cousin to a selfish man like Mr Darcy.
Mrs Gardiner helped her to remove her walking boot and stocking, and looked at her ankle.
“I think it is sprained, not broken, Lizzy, but it is so swollen that I think our new friend was right in sending for a surgeon.” She turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Would your cousin’s housekeeper bring a basin of cold water?
Country people generally immerse a strained limb in cold water, but I think it a good practice. ”
Elizabeth thought that sounded terrible, but the colonel nodded. “One of the regiment’s surgeons does that. He always said that was proper, provided it was done immediately, and not kept in too long.”
He left to speak to the housekeeper, and they heard the front door open, and two male voices mixed in the hall.
Elizabeth could discern Colonel Fitzwilliam’s tone in long explanations and the shorter replies of another man.
Hopefully, the cousin was an obliging man, perhaps a doddering older gentleman who would be delighted at the idea of aiding a young lady .
The library door opened and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered, followed by, to her lasting surprise, Mr Darcy.
She gasped, but no one heard her because at the same moment Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Ladies, may I present?—”
“Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy cried, looking directly at her. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise; he then noticed Jane and her aunt. “Miss Elizabeth,” he corrected, in a sedate voice, before acknowledging Jane.
This was excruciating. She thought nothing could be worse than falling on the street and being carried by a stranger, and now she was trapped in the house of the worst man in the world.
“You know one another?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, laughing in disbelief. Mr Darcy, however, looked as reserved as he had been in Hertfordshire. He briefly recounted their meeting last autumn and was introduced to Mrs Gardiner.
“I lived in Lambton for many years and knew your late parents by reputation,” her aunt said. “They have passed their benevolence on to you. Thank you for your assistance.”
Mr Darcy only bowed. Of course, he would avoid speaking to a woman who had once lived in a little village and who now lived in Cheapside. He turned from her aunt and approached where Elizabeth sat. She slid her bare foot behind her other one, wincing at the movement.
“Are you in any pain?” he asked.
It surprised her he had managed to project concern into his tone. If she did not know better, she might have believed that he cared.
“Do not be alarmed about my ankle. It gives me no pain while I am quiet.” How much longer would it take for a surgeon to arrive, tell her she was well, and say she could limp her way home? “I am certain that after bringing down the swelling, I can be on my way.”
“You must not think of proceeding till the ankle has been examined, and some refreshment taken.” He civilly pressed them to make use of his house for both purposes.
Soon everyone was eating and drinking while Elizabeth’s foot was submerged in frigid water.
Everyone but Mr Darcy talked pleasantly, and Elizabeth just grimaced at the temperature of the water and the pain in her foot.
Their reluctant host simply paced the room in silence while occasionally observing her.
It was not as though she injured herself near to his home on purpose.
Shortly, the surgeon arrived with his advice and expertise, but rather than feel grateful, Elizabeth resented it as soon as he hinted she ought not to be moved.
“It is not broken, but I am afraid the joint is badly strained. I cannot recommend your being moved for a fortnight.”
“You cannot mean it!” she cried. She locked eyes with Mr Darcy, who now appeared very grave. Clearly, he did not want her here any more than she did. She could not stay in his house for another hour, let alone two weeks. “Surely, with a little support, I can be helped into a carriage.”
“I have often attended sprains with worse consequences than broken bones,” said the surgeon as he wrapped her foot in a tight bandage.
“But why must I not move for two weeks?” she asked.
“The reason is obvious,” said Mr Darcy. “Sprains are generally neglected. When a bone is broken, the patient is obliged to keep easy, because she cannot make use of it. But when a joint is only strained, the person, finding she can still move it, is sorry to lose her time for so trifling an ailment.”
“Precisely, sir,” said the surgeon as he finished.
“In that way, she deceives herself and converts into an incurable malady what might have been removed by only keeping the ankle easy.” He gave her an emphatic look, then turned to Mrs Gardiner.
“She must keep it wrapped and stay off it for no less than two weeks.”
“Not two weeks! I am eager to go about on crutches.”
Still looking at her aunt, the surgeon said, “She must on no account put her foot to the ground. If the swelling has not gone down in a few days, I will need to apply leeches.”
“Surely you do not mean entirely off it? Can I not use a cane after a few days?” she pleaded.
The surgeon gave her a sharp look. “You seem inclined to be more active than is wise, young lady. For the present, you are to be confined with your foot elevated.”
Elizabeth grew alarmed. Not just confined to Mr Darcy’s house, but confined to whatever room she was deposited in. After exchanging a few more words with her aunt, the surgeon left with the promise that in two weeks she could bear weight on her foot and return home.
“Perhaps for a few days I must be immobile,” Elizabeth implored her aunt, “but not for a fortnight.”
Mrs Gardiner gave a helpless shrug. “Lizzy, I know you wish to come home, but I also know what moving you could do to your ankle. We must take the surgeon’s advice.”
“But Mr Darcy is not married; it would give an odd appearance for me to stay here alone. And your children are all sick with colds. They will want their mother, so you cannot stay with me.”
Her aunt smiled sadly. “It cannot be helped, and I can trust Jane to mind them.” She looked at Mr Darcy. “I am afraid we must trespass on your kindness a little longer.”
Elizabeth felt Mr Darcy’s gaze boring into her, but refused to look at him.
“It is only three miles to Gracechurch Street. I could walk that in an hour with two legs, so with a crutch I could be home in three. I cannot stay—” She nearly said she could not stay in the same house as that man who had harmed her friend and her sister.
“I cannot impose on Mr Darcy, especially if Mr Bingley is also staying here.”
Rather than agree with her feeble excuse, Mr Darcy stepped forward and asked, “Who told you Bingley was an inmate of my house?”
“Miss Bingley mentioned it,” Jane answered softly.
A few lines settled into the corners of Mr Darcy’s mouth. “She was mistaken. He is often here, but he is living with his brother-in-law this season.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with her sister, who turned pink from discomfiture.
Another lie Miss Bingley told to dissuade Jane’s hopes.
She was then struck with an idea. If Elizabeth was here at Mr Darcy’s house, Jane would surely visit her, and perhaps she would cross paths with Mr Bingley.
Enduring Mr Darcy’s rudeness was a price she would pay if it helped secure her sister’s happiness.
“Are you certain you wish to leave your children whilst they are ill?” asked Jane. “Surely there is another solution.”
Before her aunt could force herself to say it was agreeable to her, Colonel Fitzwilliam said to Mr Darcy, in a voice that could still be heard by the entire room, “What if Georgiana and her companion come to stay?”
A shade passed over Mr Darcy’s eyes. “I would rather think of a way to help the patient safely remove to her own home.”
Elizabeth wanted to return home too, but to hear Mr Darcy announce he did not want her here either made her gasp.
It was one thing to make an aside to his friend calling her “tolerable”, but now he announced to his cousin and her family that he could not tolerate being confined to the same house as her. What an insufferable man.
Mr Darcy heard her huff of exasperation, and Elizabeth watched his cheeks tint pink. He quickly said, “She is very welcome, of course, but I am sure Miss Elizabeth would be more comfortable in her own home than mine.”
“But she will injure herself more if she moves,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
To her aunt, he said, “My cousin Miss Darcy lives in Upper Wimpole Street in her own establishment with a companion. They can both stay here for a fortnight, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be perfectly safe under their care.”
Mrs Gardiner shook her head. “I could not inconvenience Miss Darcy. In fact, I know she has plans this evening and?—”
“What plans?” Mr Darcy interjected.
After a beat of silence, Jane said, “Miss Bingley said she was expected to dinner.”
Mr Darcy tilted his head ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “I think Miss Bingley must be mistaken.”
An awkward silence fell over the group, and Elizabeth watched Jane turn away to pretend to look at a painting. Jane was so trusting, and here was further proof that Miss Bingley lacked any integrity.
“Well,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “it will be no inconvenience for me to fetch Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley and ask her to move here for a fortnight. Miss Elizabeth will have a chaperon, and Mrs Gardiner can tend to her own children.”