Page 5 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“Elizabeth, are you well?” Of course she was not well. He pushed Neptune to go faster even as he tightened his grip around Elizabeth, who had not answered his feeble query with her blue lips. “Elizabeth? Please, please, God. Do not let her die.”

He pulled her wet face to his warmer neck, as he could do little else to help her before they reached the house. Had she hit her head when she had fallen? Why was she unconscious? Then it struck him. He had not heard a crack of wood or a splash of water. He had not seen her fall. She may have been in the water far longer than he had thought. But she had managed to pull herself nearly out of the water. He looked over all he could see of her from this position and noted her gown was ripped at the bottom and her leg had a bleeding gash. He wished she could tell him what had happened.

As they neared Netherfield, he called out to a groom to steady his horse as he shifted down to the ground while maintaining his hold on Elizabeth’s still form. He ran to the front door as it opened to a surprised footman.

“Go for the doctor, quickly! Take my horse,” he demanded. “Mrs. Nicholls! Mrs. Nicholls!” He called to the housekeeper even before he passed through the door, and she was in the hall when he entered. “Miss Elizabeth needs a room.”

“Yes, sir, come this way,” she responded with efficiency at the same time another footman rushed out dressed for the cold morning.

As Darcy followed Mrs. Nicholls to the nearest room in the guest wing, he was vaguely aware of her issuing orders for hot water, clean cloths, and maids to attend her.

“Darcy, what is happening? Are you well?” Bingley came around the corner, clearly having just awoken.

“Miss Elizabeth fell in the stream and has lost consciousness.” Darcy was surprised at how calm he sounded when he felt anything but. “I would be obliged if you could send word to Longbourn. Her uncle should be informed.”

“Of course. I will go myself…if you think we can spare a quarter of an hour for me to dress properly.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Bingley.” Darcy entered the guest room and placed Elizabeth on the bed as directed. When he made no move to leave the room but only stared at the woman he loved, Mrs. Nicholls quietly intruded on his thoughts.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Betsy and I will see to Miss Elizabeth now.”

“Of course. Forgive me.” As he caught a last glimpse of Elizabeth before the door was shut in his face, he hurriedly begged, “Alert me if I can be of any assistance at all.” He leaned against the wall and nearly slumped to the floor outside her room to wait, but his valet approached from his bedchamber two doors down across the passageway.

“Sir, let me help you change into dry clothes.”

Darcy had not noticed, but naturally, he was wet and muddy himself. He allowed his man’s ministrations, which included a bath and then hot tea by the fire in his bedchamber, before he returned to Elizabeth’s room, where a chair now sat outside her door. He sank into it gratefully and waited.

Mr. Jones, the local apothecary, arrived before Mr. Bingley had returned with Mr. Bennet and both Miss Bennet and Miss Mary in his carriage. The man was still with Elizabeth when the group ascended the stairs and gathered around Darcy, who stood as they approached.

“How is she?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“Mr. Jones has been with her for some time, but he has not yet reported on her condition. She…she was unconscious when I last saw her.” Darcy struggled to compose himself. “Perhaps Miss Bennet or Miss Mary will be allowed entrance⁠—”

Before any decision could be made, Mr. Jones emerged from Elizabeth’s bedchamber, closing the door securely behind him. The man looked steadily at Mr. Bennet as he gave his assessment.

“She is awake but weak.”

Darcy exhaled deeply in relief.

“We are attempting to warm her, as she is still too cold,” the apothecary continued. “She should not be overly excited, but I will allow visitors briefly. She will need her rest to recover.”

“Thank you, Jones,” Mr. Bennet said. “Jane, Mary, will you join me?”

Darcy had known he would not be allowed to see Elizabeth until she emerged from her chamber, but it was still a blow keenly felt. Bingley excused himself to speak with Mrs. Nicholls about rooms for Miss Bennet and Mr. Bennet. It was a moment too long before Darcy thought to tell him his housekeeper was in the room with Elizabeth, and Bingley had departed. Darcy swallowed and turned to the medical man once the others had disappeared behind the door, once again closed to him.

“I, too, thank you for your prompt attendance, Mr. Jones. If anything at all can be done that is in my power…If my physician in town could be of service, please allow me to send for him.”

“A generous offer, Mr. Darcy, but a physician could do little, in this case, that Mrs. Nicholls and her maids cannot do. They have my instructions and will watch Miss Elizabeth’s progress.”

“Then she will recover fully?” Darcy asked anxiously.

“With proper rest and nourishment, and if the cold does not seep into her lungs or lead to fever, then she should be up again in a few days. She is very weak at present, however,” Mr. Jones said.

“I see. And she has all she needs? As far as her comfort is concerned?” Darcy needed some way to help her.

“She does. She is being well cared for now. Your coming when you did certainly saved her life. Miss Elizabeth was able to tell me the bridge she crossed must have had a loose plank, as she stepped and fell into the freezing water. The young lady did not hit her head, fortunately, but the broken pieces of the bridge caught on her gown and cut her leg superficially, and it took her some time to free herself to escape the water. She said she did not have the strength left by then to climb the bank so called for help. Miss Elizabeth told me when she saw you approach, she knew she would live.”

Darcy realized his breaths had become shallow as he listened to Elizabeth’s tale and worked to steady himself.