Page 39 of Her Affections and Wishes

“There was a…an accident with the carriage.”

Icy fear settled in his stomach. His hostess was now too agitated to speak, and Darcy stared hard at the others for someone to finish the story, although he was afraid of the answer.

“It seems Miss Bennet was atop the carriage to watch the Gold Cup,” said Sir John. “Something happened and a horse bolted. She fell off the back. A surgeon was called.”

Darcy managed a perfunctory bow, but turned on his heel and left without a word. His hands shook as he charged up the stairs before realising he did not know which room was Elizabeth’s. He darted up and down a few corridors, even opening doors at random. Around a corner he saw a man leave a room, who nodded to him as he passed. Mr Hunter, the surgeon Henry recognised by the stables.

His lungs could draw no air, and his heart beat in a sickening rhythm. He wrenched the door open, rushing in to face the heartrending news about Elizabeth’s condition because that must be better than the agony of not knowing what she suffered.

Elizabeth started, and Julia Metcalfe gave a cry of surprise. The former laid on the bed in her bedgown with a rug over her, a tray to her side. The latter sat by with tea things, teapot in hand, hovering over a cup. They stared at him in wonder, Julia splashing tea onto the tray.

There were no poultices with vinegar, no wrapped limbs, no bloody bandages.

Elizabeth’s eyes softened when she recognised him, and then they searched his face for an instant before crying, “I am well!”

Darcy leant against the doorframe, surely in a pose of insouciant unconcern and not because his relief hit him so hard that he could not stand. “I feared you had broken your neck.”

Julia righted the tea pot and wiped the spilt tea. “There was no reason to come charging into a lady’s room, Mr Darcy.” The way she looked at him made him feel that she would have added the words “unless it is mine” if Elizabeth was not present.

“Mr Darcy’s friend is likely to marry my sister, although it is impolite to speak of such things until they are confirmed,” Elizabeth said hurriedly. “He must have feared he would have to tell Mr Bingley that his beloved’s sister had cracked open her head.”

He could not fall to pieces with Julia staring at him, but what to say when all he wanted was to put his arms around Elizabeth? “I, I heard you had a fall. I—yes, I did not want to explain such a thing to Bingley,” he finished lamely.

“I had the breath knocked from my body, is all.”

“But you must have fallen seven or eight feet or so,” he said shakily, still wishing he could at least take her hand.

“It was an alarming sight,” admitted Julia. “Mrs Tessier and I were talking by another carriage thirty yards away when the horses moved and she tumbled off.”

“I fell to the roof of the carriage first,” she told him. “Then rolled off and landed flat on my back on the downs.”

“She was lucky,” said Julia.

It could have been so much worse. “I am glad you are in good health, all things considered.”

“Would you be this alarmed on any lady’s behalf?” Julia asked leadingly.

He could not betray his affection for Elizabeth, and so he said, “I could not respect any man who did not blink an eye if he heard a lady was injured.”

Julia scowled like she did not believe him. To appease her, he added, “You are kind to sit with the invalid.”

She preened. “Well, I could not leave her after such a fall, nor when the surgeon came to examine her.”

He wondered where Lady Metcalfe was in all of this when the woman herself came up behind him. She threw him a glare that rivalled any sullen look Julia gave him, and he regretted putting Elizabeth in this situation. Even an indifferent chaperon would dislike a single man hovering in her charge’s doorway.

She swept into the room and said to Elizabeth, “How are you faring, Miss Bennet? What did the surgeon say?”

“That nothing is broken and I will be sore tomorrow, but there is no lasting harm.” Elizabeth answered Lady Metcalfe’s question, but watched him whilst she did. He smiled at her, still desperate to do more than exchange surreptitious glances.

“Are you finished tending to the patient?” Lady Metcalfe asked her daughter. “Mrs Tessier does not wish us to be late to our evening at Lady Jerome’s.”

Darcy tilted his head. “You are not staying with the invalid?” Even if she was not seriously injured, Elizabeth had suffered a fall, and this woman was consigned to care for her. For all Lady Catherine’s arrogance and faults, she would not have left a young lady in her charge alone after she was hurt.

“I would not dream of keeping Lady Metcalfe from her amusements,” answered Elizabeth. “I will fall asleep early, and the servants will bring anything I need.”

She must not want to suffer the undivided attention of either rude woman longer than necessary. The kindness and patience Elizabeth showed to such vexing people impressed him.

Julia wished her a flat good evening and Lady Metcalfe said to him, in an insistent tone, “Would you escort us to the carriages, Mr Darcy?”