13th April 1816
The warm sunlight and smell of clean linen reached Darcy’s senses before he opened his eyes. He struggled with his eyelids until he could keep them open. Looking around at the blur of light, the silhouette of a woman sitting beside him brought a lazy smile to his lips.
“Elizabeth?”
“Oh, William. No, it is me, Georgiana,” she said, running to the door. “Uncle Alfred, he is awake.”
He blinked a few more times, but his eyes closed again. He stretched out his hand to his sister.
“Oh, brother. I am so happy you are back to us. I almost died worrying about you,” Georgiana said, squeezing his hand. Then she began to ask hundreds of questions about how he was feeling, if he was hungry, what had happened, if his scratches were hurting.
Darcy opened his eyes again and smiled at his sister’s enthusiasm. Before he had the chance to answer any of her questions, his uncle and aunt entered the room and greeted him with equal agitation. Lord Matlock did not spare words to express his relief, while Lady Madeleine kissed him on the head.
“Where is Richard?” Darcy asked.
And where is Elizabeth ?
The room felt silent. Everyone looked down or at each other, but nobody answered him.
Darcy frowned. “Uncle, where is Richard?” he asked again, his voice clipped. He sat up, grimacing with pain despite all the protests for him to keep to his bed.
Perhaps it was the laudanum or the long hours he had been sedated — after all, he was back home and did not remember anything about their return; or yet, perhaps because they were not answering his deuced question, but Darcy could not control the dread squeezing his chest.
Lord Matlock tried to remain calm, remembering the words the tired doctor had said as they arrived early that morning.
“ Mr Darcy has plenty of reasons to behave badly when he wakes up. And recovering from the prolonged use of laudanum will not help him. ”
With those words in mind, Lord Matlock addressed his favourite nephew with caution. “William, calm down, I beg you. I shall explain everything, but do not be agitated, my boy.” He asked his wife and niece to leave. When the room was quiet again, Lord Matlock began, “Unfortunately, your rescue was not completely successful; Richard was forced to go after the last member of the group responsible for your kidnap.”
“You mean Wickham, do you not, Uncle?” he said, trembling with rage.
“William, I understand your anger. But please, my boy, do not let that scoundrel take away your health. Dr Alden told us you would have a difficult recovery. And for more than one reason.”
With his entire body aching and shaking uncontrollably, Darcy closed his eyes, inhaling deeply a couple of times, calming himself enough to speak again. “You are right, Uncle. That miserable man does not deserve anything from me.”
At last, when Darcy was more relaxed, he asked his uncle to help him to stand. “My back aches and I am tired of being kept on a bed. I need to walk.”
Lord Matlock was glad to help his nephew get to his feet.
“And what about Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy finally asked, disappointed that she was not at his side as she had promised. “Is she still resting?”
“That is why Richard went in pursuit of Wickham. The reprobate managed to put his hands on her again and took her away with him. The scoundrel is taking her to Portsmouth to sell her to pirates.”
Darcy stopped walking; everything became dark. His breath was stuck in his throat and a sharp pain pierced his heart. He could not hold his weight anymore and collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
“Wilfred!” Lord Matlock cried out.
Immediately, Wilfred was in the bedroom, but even the two old men could not lift Darcy back to his feet. Lord Matlock shouted again, and two other footmen entered the bedroom and helped to put Darcy back on the bed. They untied his shirt, opened the window and tried everything they could to ease his breathing.
Darcy was beyond what any rational word could explain. The lacerating pain from hearing the news about Elizabeth, his rage towards Wickham, and his body’s reaction to hours of sedation by the laudanum, took away all his dignity and when he was able to breathe again, he wailed like a wounded beast.
~ ? ~
After the arrival of Darcy and Dr Alden that early morning, nobody could return to bed, and Georgiana had barely left her brother’s side.
The other occupants of the house remained in the drawing room in vigil, with the exception of Mr Bennet. Darcy’s sore face and precarious condition, added to the news that neither Richard nor his Lizzy were with them, had proved too much for poor Mr Bennet. He had been assisted to his room by Dr Alden, who decided to give him something to sleep, preventing the old man from completely succumbing to his sorrow.
Jane remained quiet on a sofa in the corner of the room. There were no more tears now, just an empty feeling of despair. Lady Madeleine, sensing her misery, took Jane in her arms, comforting her in the best way she could, also suspecting Jane had another cause to worry beyond her sister’s welfare. She had seen the way Richard and Jane looked and supported each other and was secretly happy for her younger son.
If only he could come back to them.
When Lady Madeleine had heard Georgiana’s voice, she excused herself from Jane and went to see how Darcy was faring.
Some minutes later, both ladies returned with divided hearts. On the one hand, Darcy being strong enough to raise his voice and express his anger was a good sign; on the other, they were all very sorry to have him informed that the rescue attempt did not end as planned. A moment later, his cries were heard throughout the entire house. Nobody knew what to do. Even the servants were working with their gazes down.
Lord Matlock entered the drawing room and shook his head. “I am sure you all heard… I believe it is better to give Darcy a couple of hours to recover. Remember, Dr Alden said he would probably react badly once awakened.”
He pulled a bell and instructed his butler to take a pot of very strong coffee, together with toasts and jam, to his nephew and not to disturb him after that. Perhaps one of his favourite repasts could bring him some comfort.
About an hour later, a very embarrassed Darcy dragged himself into the drawing room and was immediately helped to take a seat. His puffed eyes were still focused on the floor when he addressed those in the room. “First of all, I want to apologise for my…” — he took a deep breath, still trying to control his rage against Wickham — “…shameful behaviour. If Dr Alden informed you about what took place in these last few days as my uncle has told me, you must know I was expecting to find not just Richard, but also Miss Elizabeth by my side when I woke up.”
Jane and Georgiana exchanged glances.
Lady Madeleine sat beside Darcy and took his hand. “Oh, my darling. He warned us about the difficult recovery from the laudanum but did not offer any further detail. What happened between you and Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy raised his sad eyes to his aunt. “I love her, Aunt, and I have asked her to marry me… And I have failed her.”
The compassion he found in his aunt’s eyes gave him courage to tell them what had happened between him and Elizabeth in that last week. Then he turned to Jane, needing to justify his feelings for Elizabeth. “We clarified our misunderstandings. I have begged her to forgive me. She did the same while confessing her bitterness towards me. It is all clear now. The days of sadness are behind us — if only I can find her again. Your sister is the most kind and courageous person I have ever known. She looked after me when I was wounded and feverish in bed. She comforted me when I had lost all hope of seeing Georgiana…” — he paused, looking at his sister, then to his aunt and uncle — “…or my family ever again.”
Darcy’s words brought fresh tears to Jane’s eyes.
Silence filled the room.
“Miss Bennet, would you mind getting me a cup of coffee?” Darcy asked.
Confused by his request, Jane stood up and went to the side cabinet where a tray with coffee and tea was set. She almost dropped the cup, when she turned and found Mr Darcy just behind her.
“I am sorry, Miss Bennet, but what I have to say is not for the ears of my family.”
He took the cup from her hands and after sipping it, he gave her a weak smile.
“Elizabeth told me how you like your coffee, sir,” Jane explained, noticing his surprise. “As you can see, she had noticed you much before you have imagined.”
“Yes, she did,” he said frowning and looking at his cup.
Oh, my sweet Elizabeth .
Darcy felt a pang of regret for having judged her and her family so harshly. “Miss Bennet, do you think you can forgive me? I have behaved in a most shameful way towards you and your family. Elizabeth told me of your… disappointment with Bingley’s departure. I am sorry I did not try—”
“Mr Darcy, please.” Jane interrupted him, her cheeks turning into a deep hue of pink for discussing such personal matters. “I cannot allow you to take the blame. I believe Mr Bingley is his own man and there was no point in pressing him into a situation that… was not in his heart.” She paused, then smiled shyly. “But I forgive you. I cannot keep anything against someone who has saved my sister’s life.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet, but Elizabeth is far from safe,” Darcy said quietly.
For some time, they were lost in sad thoughts.
“Your cousin will bring her back. He promised me that.”
Darcy was surprised by her sudden change. “Do you trust my cousin’s words to that extent, Miss Bennet? Do you really believe he can bring Elizabeth back?”
“Yes, I do. He promised he would return, and he cannot do that without her. So, you see, he needs to find her and bring her back with him,” she said full of hope.
Darcy looked at Miss Bennet with a renewed interest. For the first time, he noticed her eyes were as green as the hills in Derbyshire in spring and had the same liveliness as those of Elizabeth…
He scowled, feeling his chest tighten. What if he were never to see those sparkling eyes again?
Returning the cup to Jane, he excused himself from the room, walking out to the gardens at the back of the house.
The fresh breeze welcomed him, and he breathed more easily. He walked further into the garden and rested his forehead against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes. What in heaven’s name was he to do? His wound was still throbbing, but the pain in his heart was the one consuming him.
A small ivy leaf tickled his nose. He opened his eyes and with another irrational wave of anger, he pulled it from the wall with all his strength, unburdening his frustration on the poor plant. But it did not matter how much he pulled it, there was always a root attached to the wall. He silently cursed the tenacious weed as his actions only caused his injury to hurt more. He groaned.
He should not be there. He should be with Richard searching for Elizabeth.
Panting and huffing, he looked down at his hand still clutched to the stem of the ivy, tightening his grip, and pulling it again. “Let go you damned plant!” he shouted.
The ivy did not comply.
He stopped, turning the plant on his hand.
And a small smile grew on his lips.
He had been shot, punched in the face, tortured with a needle, and only God knew what else while he was unconscious, but he would never give up searching for her, even if it cost him his life. He looked back at the stone wall and the ivy. He would be like this miserable ivy and never let go!
With this fresh resolution, Darcy hurried back to the house and sat down beside Jane. “Miss Bennet, where is your father? I need to talk to him.”
“He was not feeling very well this morning after receiving the news about Lizzy. He must be still in bed. What is it, Mr Darcy?”
“I need to talk to him as soon as possible. Would you please inform me when he is awake? Or perhaps send him to see me. I will be in the library.”
About half an hour later, a still half-sedated Mr Bennet entered the library, where Darcy was writing some papers.
“Ah, Mr Bennet, please, sit down,” Darcy said. With no preamble, he informed Mr Bennet of the details of his and Elizabeth’s kidnap. Mr Bennet was making a great effort to follow his fast and anxious words, some of which did not make any sense to him at all.
“I love your daughter,” Darcy finally said, “and I need your consent to act as an interested party, as her betrothed, and do whatever is necessary to recover her. I need your blessing for our marriage.”
Mr Bennet blinked a couple of times. “You want to marry my Lizzy?”
“Yes, sir. With your blessing, I will be able to do more to find her.” Seeing the incredulity in Mr Bennet’s eyes, Darcy continued, “I love your daughter more than my own life. I cannot live without her. Please, sir. ”
A hundred and one questions were on the tip of Mr Bennet’s tongue, but despite the fog still present in his mind, he noticed Mr Darcy’s determination. But above all, he saw the eyes of a man in agonising pain, and desperately in love. In a way, this realisation brought Mr Bennet more comfort than the draught Dr Alden had given him earlier.
Mr Bennet finally nodded. “I assume you have already asked her the same question.”
“Indeed, I have, sir. And she has accepted me.”
“Well, in this case, I have nothing else to say. I will entrust you with my daughter’s life, Mr Darcy. Not just because I cannot even dream about how to save her, but because as a man in love you will do whatever you can to bring her back.” As he spoke, he placed his hand on Mr Darcy’s good shoulder. “You have my blessing, son. Do what you need to find our Lizzy.”
“Thank you, Mr Bennet,” Darcy said, shaking hands with his future father-in-law. “I shall. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go.”
Darcy turned and bumped into his uncle’s large frame at the library door, almost sending them both to the floor.
“What you mean you need to go, Darcy?” his uncle asked, regaining his balance.
Darcy’s wince took time to dissipate, and when he spoke, his voice was pained. “I need to send word for my men to prepare my carriage. I am going to Portsmouth.”
~ ? ~
The uproar in the Matlock residence was like nothing else before. Protestation and raised voices formed a loud cacophony that only stopped when Mr Duncan and Mr Lynch — now sober, clean and shaven — entered the house. Mr Darcy was introduced to the men and thanked them both for all they had done so far.
“Your arrival is well timed, Mr Duncan,” Darcy continued, “for I would like you to accompany me on this trip. I believe your services will be highly appreciated.”
“Mr Darcy, please take me with you as well,” Mr Lynch asked, surprising everyone in the room. “I might be an old sea dog, but I am better than a bloodhound. Portsmouth is a place I know well. I know I can help.”
Darcy promptly accepted it; he would need all the help he could get.
Once more, Lord Matlock tried to dissuade Darcy from this mad idea of travelling so soon. His reply was the same old stubbornness he saw perfected through the years in the boys of his family. “Would you at least take Dr Alden with you? It would give us peace of mind,” he said trying a compromise.
Darcy finally agreed and the doctor was immediately summoned.
It was a quarter past ten when the great carriage with the Darcy crest left Lord Matlock’s house for its long and painful journey to Portsmouth.
And Darcy would not have it any other way.