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The discovery sparked a moment of panic as Darcy imagined himself encased in lead from the waist down, like the Norman effigies in the Fitzwilliam tomb at Wyvern Hall. Other hands descended on him. The doctor gave instructions. As they twisted him around, he felt his knees bend suddenly like a marionette; then the weird feeling when his legs touched the floor as he pushed himself forward with his arms. Hands grasped under his shoulders. He pushed further. There was no control. He collapsed as his knees bent under his weight. After a moment when it seemed they might all end up on the floor, they steadied him. He was lowered back onto the bed, exhausted and dispirited.

When he heard them withdraw, Darcy covered his face and wept silently into his hands. Vaguely he was aware of a whispered conference in his dressing room. Sometime later, Finn returned to offer him some more laudanum. Mercifully, he fell asleep.

The next day, there was a commotion at the door, banging, squeaking, a thump, following which the doctor greeted him. Darcy was in no mood for pleasantries. He had been stewing since waking the previous day and now his frustrations peaked.

“When will I be able to see again? Walk again?” he asked angrily.

The doctor talked in his smooth voice. He could not say. Not many people had survived his illness; each case was slightly different. Darcy was young, fit. Dr Freud had high hopes that he might walk again. Of Darcy’s sight, nothing was said and Darcy noticed the omission, but he did not have the courage to pursue it. The doctor declared he had brought a wheeled chair. It had snowed overnight, he said, but was sunny outside. Perhaps Darcy might like to sit in the sun by the window?

More squeaking and creaking, then they were supporting his shoulders again and slid him sideways out of the bed onto the hard, cold surface of the chair. He stubbed his injured foot and swore. With a squeak, the chair trundled forward until the light of the sun streamed over him. It was a revelation. The light penetrated the murk of his vision, the warmth of the sun’s rays felt so good on the bare skin of his legs. He felt for the hem of his nightshirt to ensure that it covered him decently.

They left him basking in the sun, to whisper again in the dressing room. Darcy sighed. Now he knew what it felt like to be an old man. A tear escaped one eye.

At Longbourn, things continued much as they ever had. The sun rose in the morning and set at night. The London mail went flying through the village four times a day, only occasionally pausing to exchange packages or, more rarely, to pick up or set down a passenger. But to Lizzy, who had suffered the loss of her two closest companions, this continuance had a weird quality, as of a piano out of tune or a dream. Jane’s weekly letters were not enough to sustain her.

Released from the shackles of her husband’s modifying influence, Mrs Bennet’s behaviour seemed to grow daily worse. Lizzy had never approved of the sarcastic tone her father had employed in checking her mother, but she could see the effect of its absence clearly. Mrs Bennet spent her days imagining the extent of the riches Mr Delaney had bestowed on Mr Elliot. She invented beaux for Kitty and Lydia, from passing dukes to officers of the militia, made rich by engagements in India. She filled in her spare time by gossiping with her visiting sister about the latest Meryton news. Mrs Bennet greeted Lizzy’s suggestions of more gainful employment with disdain—a hint that she take up some needlework was met with the excuse that Fanny’s hands had grown stiff in her old age. Lizzy realised that her mother’s only previous employment had been in planning fashions for the next assembly or arranging and presiding over teas and dinners for the constant stream of visitors who had once frequented Longbourn in her father’s lifetime. Most of these callers had not been for Mr Bennet but his daughters, and such social visits were not allowable in the Bennet ladies’ current state of full mourning.

Kitty and Lydia became increasingly restless. The childish hijinks they had resorted to for merriment in the first weeks following their father’s death had palled. They complained constantly of boredom. What was the use of Mr Gardiner allowing Mama to retain the carriage if they were not permitted to use it? Surely, they could attend church in Meryton?

Lizzy’s chief solace was Charlotte’s daily visits. The friends had decided that Charlotte should be present whenever Lizzy met the new bailiff to familiarise her with estate management, for it was not clear what Mr Collins knew of the topic or whether he would take an active part once installed as Longbourn’s master. Certainly, his letters betrayed a woeful ignorance and inaction. Advised of some misfortune of a tenant, he was more likely to respond with a philippic than any suggestion of succour, while the remainder of his letters were filled with inapposite but remarkably detailed advice from his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

However, Charlotte soon found herself a more active role than that of observer at Longbourn. It became painfully apparent after Harry’s first few lessons with Mr Elliot that the clergyman was having trouble coming down to his pupil’s level. He wanted to instruct Harry in Latin and grammar as he did the Lucas boys, but Harry was having trouble reading anything beyond very simple sentences, and Lizzy simply did not have the patience to tutor him in such basic skills. Charlotte stepped into the breach. Every afternoon, whenever Harry’s work allowed it, she spent three hours in Longbourn’s study teaching Harry to read and write at Mr Bennet’s desk while Lizzy sat in her favourite spot in the window embrasure, reading. After these lessons given by the kindest of tutors, Harry walked over to the rectory to join Mr Elliot’s lessons, doing his best not to look too ignorant in front of his younger classmates. Meanwhile Lizzy updated the ledgers and showed Charlotte what needed to be done to keep them in order. Then Charlotte bid her friend farewell and walked home.

Mr Elliot’s gentle courtship of Mary continued. Every Sunday after the service he joined the Bennet ladies for lunch, sitting at the head of the table and carving the roast. Afterwards he and Mary retired to the parlour where Mrs Bennet found various excuses to leave them alone. Occasionally Fanny’s curiosity grew too much for her, and she would burst in on them unawares. Besides discovering them holding hands once or twice, she was disappointed to find she had only interrupted them reading the Bible aloud to each other. Had she stopped to listen, she might have discovered that some of Mr Elliot’s choices tended to be from Song of Solomon, but Fanny was completely unacquainted with the racier parts of the Bible. If Elizabeth happened to intercept one of Mary’s gentle blushes when she called them to tea, she could only be glad that at least one of the Bennet sisters seemed to have secured her future.

During the six weeks that had passed since Mr Bennet’s death, Kitty and Lydia had become increasingly fractious. Numerous applications to Mr Gardiner during his weekly visits eventually wore him down. He gave reluctant approval for reciprocal visits to Aunt Philips on the strict condition that they were not to leave their uncle’s property. Kitty and Lydia soon found a way around that injunction by offering to walk to their uncle’s office in Main Street in place of the servant who normally summoned him to lunch. Surely, they were justified in walking between their uncle’s two properties? And if they should encounter some of the officers of the militia in doing so, surely it would be impolite not to acknowledge their smiles and waves? Soon midday assignations were arranged in the street. The girls took turns finishing the journey to their uncle’s office to summon him before joining the other sister to chat with the officers while they waited for their uncle to emerge and accompany them home.

Elizabeth also began to find her seclusion intolerable. Robbed of intelligent conversation with her father, she began to find reading and annotating her books not enough. Charlotte provided some relief but could not enter into any philosophic discussion. Finally, when an uncharacteristically plaintive letter from Jane arrived, in which she expressed her fear that Miss Fairfax would soon return to the Garths’, requiring her to seek another position, Elizabeth could stand it no longer.

One day after Harry had gone off to the rectory, Elizabeth confronted Charlotte.

“Charlotte, I have been thinking how unfair it is that Jane must be the only breadwinner in the family.”

“You are effectively contributing to your family’s maintenance, Lizzy, by keeping a roof over their heads. Have you forgotten that Mr Collins only agreed to your family’s continuance here, rent free, because of your services to the estate?”

“No, I have not forgotten, Charlotte. But I feel so useless here! I have taught you to use the ledgers and acquainted Harry with the day-to-day business of running the estate. I do not need to be here all the time! Indeed, I feel I could provide any further advice by visiting with my uncle once a week or writing.”

“What are you proposing to do?”

“I hope to convince my uncle to allow me to return with him to London after Christmas in order to search for a job as a governess.”

“Oh, Lizzy. Do you think that is wise? You do not have much patience for dullards. Indeed, you do not suffer fools gladly at all!”

“I must learn to be more patient, Charlotte. Hopefully I can find some older boys to tutor in Latin and Greek, such as Mr Elliot does for the Lucas boys. Will you help me by continuing to visit here in my absence?”

“Oh, Lizzy, you know your mother only admits me to the house on sufferance. She still feels I have snatched the bread from your mouths by becoming engaged to Mr Collins. With you gone, I dare not visit.”

“Be brave, Charlotte. My mother just likes to complain. Mary is the only one of my sisters who would have accepted Mr Collins, and now she is likely to be settled with Mr Elliot, it is a moot point. Mary has occasionally helped me with the ledgers in the past. Can you not imply to Mr Collins that Mary is now assisting you if he should ask? I will also enlist Mary’s aid in managing mother. Will you help me?”

Charlotte sighed. “Of course, Lizzy. You know you can rely on me. If you must go, then do so, but I will miss you terribly.”

“Indeed, Charlotte, I will miss you too,” said Lizzy, squeezing her friend’s hand, “but our lives here together are coming to an end anyway. I would rather seek my future on my own terms than tremble in a corner until fate finds me.”

Chapter 25: The cavalry arrives

In his concern for Darcy, Richard had gotten halfway to Dover before realising it would be madness to go off to the Continent without a pistol. He had grown too used to dashing about London without one. Who knew what lawlessness he might encounter in the vacuum left by Napoleon? But he had been in luck. While he was wondering whether there might be a decent gun shop in Dover or Calais, or if he should backtrack to his own room at the barracks, Richard ran across an acquaintance from the 95th Rifles, Tom Burridge, travelling in the opposite direction. Captain Burridge gladly loaned him one of his pistols.

After reaching Calais, Richard rode ventre à terre during the day and slept, when he could, in the diligence at night. From Calais, he made Bruges by lunch and Ghent and Brussels in the afternoon. Upon securing an inside seat for the overnight diligence to Cologne, he went off to the nearest respectable inn to get some sleep in a horizontal position before he started. The saucy maid who conducted him to his room and removed his boots offered to tell him a bedtime story, but he was too tired. So, he merely smiled at her and slapped her bottom before giving her an extra tip. He was asleep ere his head hit the pillow.