Page 38

Anne

My arm hurt abominably. It was as if every charlatan who attended Rosings attacked at the same time with bleeding tools and salt, but I could not care in the least. I was not to be bothered by annoyances. I SAVED SOMEONE’S LIFE! ME! Anne de Bourgh! Pale, sickly Anne, ignored by most, who rarely left Rosings, and was widely considered too weak to bear a child, or even survive another dozen years! I saved Georgianna Darcy’s life, and while the rest of my days might be many or few in number, for however many I had, everyone would know that when the critical moment arrived, when less than a second was available to make a decision, I did the right thing and did it well. Somebody would live who would otherwise have died, all because of me. For the first time in my life, I could truly consider myself worthy, and I was insufferably proud of myself. Not a person alive could fault my actions that night, from the moment I started dressing until the moment I shoved my cousin out of the path of destruction.

As you can see, the pain filled me with great joy, great pride, and a certain amount of ineffable strength and dignity. It also filled me with an abundant supply of words to the point where I was worse than the colonel. I do not imagine even a fully recovered, fully healthy person could actually read this journal without falling asleep from the tedium. I think what I wrote above would be entirely appropriate for the dullest sermon ever delivered by the worst parson, but perhaps it is just the laudanum. Yes, that is it… the laudanum. I will write much more clearly when I wake up after a nice little nap.

~~~~~

Much better! Perhaps you are curious what happened in the few seconds after I had my little altercation with Mr Collins’ fire iron. It would be some time before I ever learnt the supreme irony of his choice of weapons, but at the time, all I knew was pure terror.

After I shoved Georgianna out of the way right on top of poor Mary, I felt a dragon tear my arm apart limb from limb, crunch my bones, and swallow them not quite whole because then they would have just been gone; but more like a small piece at a time so he could enjoy my agony. It was the most painful experience of my life—and this from a person exposed to English physicians! Need I say more!

I landed on the floor and started bleeding profusely, but my head was clear, and I suspected we would have to worry about the wound becoming septic, but other than that, it seemed like something survivable. There would be a long collection of stitches used to tie up the wound; it would have to be cleaned using techniques best not mentioned involving a lot of laudanum and gin, and it would take months to clear, if I even survived, which was far from certain. I also knew I could abandon any idea of short sleeves for the rest of my life. A short-sleeved dress would be enough for me to clear out Hyde Park in a moment, at least of the children without gruesome personalities. Pray ignore my rambling, and we shall blame it all on the laudanum—of which, I think I might have just a touch more.

~~~~~

The second I heard my head hit the floor, I also heard two carafes shattering, which meant Darcy had already dropped what he was carrying—good man. He was unfortunately on the wrong side of the table to do any of us any good any time soon, as it would take many precious seconds for him to work his way around—or so I thought.

The very next sound was boots on the table; then I saw the terrible… awful… magnificent bout of violence right in front of my eyes. Mr Collins must either be tough as a stone gargoyle or just so simple with nothing in his brain that could be damaged, because I was absolutely certain Fitzwilliam would kill him. I am still not certain he will restrain himself when he gets around to it, and that one punch should really have done the job, but Collins was still rolling around on the ground reaching for the lost fire iron after he went down.

Fitzwilliam looked at me, and having been injured before, I believed I was perfectly well for at least a few minutes. I gave him a stern nod towards his real duty, pretending for a moment I was Elizabeth, and much to my relief, he obeyed me with the same alacrity he applied to her. What a besotted fool he was, but at that moment, for the first time, I believed I might love him as a cousin.

I had no need of his assistance. Richard and Mother would take care of me, and I was most worried about Elizabeth. I kept my eyes locked on her prostrate form, fearing the worst, and I was happy it did not take very much convincing to drop Darcy to the ground, whereupon he started caring for her with a look of tenderness and sadness that could not be mistaken by anyone for anything but love. Perhaps he might have worried about Georgianna, but without her having actually taken the fire iron in the head, I could not think of anything that would dissuade him from tending to Elizabeth once he saw to my safety.

The next voice I heard was most surprising. I would have imagined it to be either my cousin the colonel, since he received extensive training and was likely to be soon promoted to general, or possibly Sergeant McDonald when he got really, really angry, and now seemed a good time for that.

In reality, it was Miss Jane Bennet, but she carried the voice of authority that was not to be gainsaid and was thunderous in its intensity.

“LYDIA, PUT THAT IRON DOWN THIS INSTANT!”

I looked over and took as much amusement as I possibly could from the fact that the colonel was holding Miss Lydia around a foot off the ground with his arm around her waist, while he attempted to retrieve the fire iron from her hands to prevent her from killing Mr Collins. I assumed having her kill the parson might be inconvenient, so I wished him luck, but he was certainly having trouble before Miss Bennet the eldest put her foot down. Looking somewhat contrite, the youngest Miss Bennet put down the iron, asked the colonel to put her down on the floor, then walked away from the man with only two or three kicks to the side. Her sister was quite something to be able to engender that level of restraint.

I relate this as if it took a leisurely half hour, but Miss Bennet—Jane, as I now know her—merely took one breath, and the interval was a very short moment.

“Lydia! Go downstairs to the kitchen and bring back all the clean towels. The ones on the upper right corner of the pantry shelf are the cleanest, so bring them first. Bring all the tea water that is made, and put more on to boil, and bring a little bit of water to cool it off in case it is too hot. Bring half to Lizzy’s room and half to mine. When you have that, go upstairs to my room and bring all the clean linen you can. Tear up my shifts we cleaned last week.”

The sister caught up her skirts and ran for the stairs.

“Kitty, help Miss Darcy take care of Miss de Bourgh. That wound will need to be cleaned, dressed, and taken care of. She needs a bed but should not be in the same room with Lizzy. The colonel can take her up to my room, with your permission, Lady Catherine!”

“Of course.”

Jane was not actually asking permission, she was just being polite. Nobody in that room was going to argue with Jane Bennet.

“Mr Darcy, I need you to get Lizzy into her room and into bed. I will be with you shortly that I might undress her and examine her wounds.”

That one seemed pointless since Darcy had already carried Miss Elizabeth halfway across the room, and was going slow and steady because he was clearly worried about injuring her more.

I had watched him as he picked her up careful as a newborn babe, and noticed he placed her bleeding head very carefully against his waistcoat, using it as a bandage, and he ripped his cravat off like a madman and wrapped it around her arm before he picked her up. I had to admire it, and that made me think about what was happening in my own wounds, which were certainly bleeding all over the floor as I indulged my distractions—or really—anything to keep me from the pain.

I looked and was astonished to see my arm was no longer bleeding profusely, primarily because it was entirely covered in yellow! Covered in yellow! For that matter, I was not lying directly on the floor any more, and seemed to be in a more comfortable position, even though I was certain it was far less than a minute since the whole thing began.

It was easy enough to follow what other people were doing, but harder with my own position. I eventually discovered that I was sitting with my head on Georgianna’s lap, and she apparently yanked off her petticoat and wrapped it around my arm, followed by her skirt when the blood seeped through. She could not get up at the moment because I was lying in her lap, and she was still wearing the dress wrapped around my arm.

I would have laughed in amusement if I was capable of it, because it was the silliest thing I had ever seen. I admired her ingenuity, and her industry, as she was obviously already taking care of me well before Miss Bennet started shouting orders.

Speaking of Miss Bennet, she was not finished, and continued bellowing like a sergeant.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam! Either subdue that man or kill him! You choose! Then I need you to carry your cousin upstairs. Miss Darcy has done an admirable job of a quick bandage, so take the scissors from that secretary over there and cut her dress off. She will survive the embarrassment.”