A Father's Sins: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (8 page)

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire

Mr.
Bingley was surprised, to say the least, when the carriage rapidly pulled up to
the front of Netherfield Park. The butler, footmen, and housekeeper all
followed Mr. Bingley outside as something of a dreadful nature must have
occurred to have the Darcys return so soon and at such speed. The two footmen
at the back of the carriage, Gideon and his twin brother Gabriel, hurried to
open the door and help a very pale Mr. Darcy into the house. Mr. Bingley was
stunned to see the always impeccably dressed Mr. Darcy with his clothing askew
and crimson spreading down his arm. Elizabeth and Georgiana followed close
behind, Elizabeth giving directions as they went. The shocked look on Mr.
Bingley’s face precluded him from offering immediate assistance. Mrs. Nicholls,
the housekeeper, was tasked with clearing the dining hall table, getting clean
towels, hot and cool water and rooms prepared. Mr. Burton, the butler, was to
get the strongest spirits available on the premises. After laying Mr. Darcy on
the tabletop, Gabriel ran back to the carriage to get Elizabeth’s apothecary
case.

Elizabeth
knew the value of cleanliness in the care of wounds, so asked that no person be
allowed into the dining hall without washing with soap and water first. She
stationed Georgiana at her brother’s head and handed her the first of the clean
towels dipped in cool water to be used to soothe his brow. It was a simple task
that would have much effect. The cook started to come into the room with some
of the requested supplies when Elizabeth asked her to go back to the kitchen,
wash her hands and the items thoroughly in hot soapy water and then return as
quickly as possible.  When she returned to the dining room, Elizabeth had the
butler pour Scotch whiskey into one of the empty bowls. She then requested Cook
to hold the towels tight around Mr. Darcy’s arm. Pulling bottles from her case,
she inquired of Mr. Darcy, “Are you able to take laudanum for pain?”

“I
am,” he answered in a weak voice. Mixing a few drops of the bitter medicine in
a glass of cool water, she added the same powers she had used for Jane’s fever,
a mixture she had used before coming back to England. It was vile tasting, but
seemed to have a good effect on a strong body. The cook moved to the other side
of Mr. Darcy and the two women helped him sit up enough to drink the
concoction. The expression on his face indicated his agreement with the liquid
being of bitter taste. He laid back down and Georgiana began wiping his brow
with the cool rag.

Elizabeth
called across the Hall to the doorway where she spied the butler. “Mr. Burton,”
she called out.

“Yes,
miss,” he walked closer as he answered.

“Does
Mr. Bingley happen to have a sharp sword or a loaded rifle on the premises?”
Elizabeth felt a pistol being evident on this occasion would not be
appropriate.

“He
does, miss, in the library over the mantel.” He paused, “Are you in need of
something sharp to care for Mr. Darcy’s wound, miss? The cook has several
knives that are much sharper and would be easier to handle.”

“Thank
you for asking and for the suggestion, Mr. Burton, but, no, I do not need a
sword for Mr. Darcy’s arm.” She peered down into Mr. Darcy’s face as he lay on
the hard wooden surface. She could already see that his expression was starting
to relax from the drug. Looking back at the butler, she caught his eye so he
would know she was not in jest. “Please, Mr. Burton, take up the sword and if
any person attempts to enter this room without washing first, you are to run
them through. Am I understood?”

The
butler, having known Miss Elizabeth as long as Mrs. Nicholls, looked again to
see if there was a twinkle in her eye at this suggestion and found nothing but
utter seriousness. She truly meant that he was to use force, if necessary. However,
Mr. Darcy chuckled from the table. Through his haze of pain, he was coming to a
new and clearer understanding of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and he deeply
appreciated that she was an unusual woman. Certainly, she was not one of the
mindless, simpering women of the ton who shunned intellectual pursuits and who
would have diverted attention by swooning at the first drop of his blood. He
looked back at his sister standing behind him and thought that Elizabeth Bennet
would be a positive role model for Georgiana to imitate. His heart ached for
his dear sister. To have witnessed his injury and the killing of a once-beloved
brother must be traumatic for her innocent heart. For one-third of her lifetime
he had been responsible for her protection and he had again failed her. She was
just starting to recover from the events with Wickham at Ramsgate and this
undoubtedly would set her back. His heart ached with the thought.

Elizabeth
pulled the towels and scraps of petticoat away from the wounded arm and
surveyed the damage. Bits of fabric were embedded in the now congealed blood.
They would all have to carefully be removed and the wound cleaned thoroughly or
the dreaded red streaks would appear to signify poison in his bloodstream. Dropping
the tweezers, a needle, and string into the whisky, she instructed Georgiana to
continue to dip the cloth into the cool water and wipe Mr. Darcy’s face, brow,
and neck to soothe him as much as possible before she started. As Georgiana
settled into a rhythmic motion, Elizabeth rolled a cloth into a small cylinder
and, after asking Mr. Darcy to open his mouth, put it firmly between his teeth.
She was afraid to give him more laudanum as she had heard of more than one
injured man succumbing to the drug. Not knowing whether their deaths were from indiscriminate
use of the drug or their injury, she did not want to take that chance with the
man on the table.

Earlier,
she had directed the Darcy footmen, Gideon and Gabriel, and John Coachman to
assist with the surgery. They had proven themselves at the scene of the crime
to be steady of character and sound in thinking and John Coachman had steady
hands. While she continued to cleanse the wound and pick at the threads, she
heard Mr. Burton stop the three gentlemen and inquire if they had washed. Since
they had, he let them come into the dining room. Assigning the footmen, one on
his right side to hold steady his right arm and one at his feet to hold his
legs still, she politely asked the coachman to stand at her side, between
herself and Miss Darcy and hold Mr. Darcy’s shoulder. This would require
immense strength, as the wound would need to be stitched closed on both the
front and back of his arm, causing great pain. Directing her new surgical
assistants, they carefully turned Mr. Darcy onto his right side. The mood was
somber and Elizabeth’s nerves were rising and the last thing she needed was to
have her hands shaking. She could hear Mr. Bingley’s footsteps outside in the
hallway, pacing.

“Gentlemen
and Miss Darcy,” she slowly made eye contact with each one standing around the
table, “due to the fact that my usual employment with a needle and thread is to
embroider my initials on the corner of my ladies handkerchiefs, I am certain
that if Mr. Darcy is not held still, I am afraid I may end up sewing my
initials both on the front and the back of his arm in distraction. I am also
fairly certain that is a scar that he would not like to have.” She heard Mr.
Darcy’s chuckle. She carefully squeezed his arm, just then realizing she still
had a grip at his elbow. “What say you, gentlemen? Can you hold Mr. Darcy firmly?”
At three men speaking “yes, miss” she looked to Georgiana. “Georgiana, are you
prepared to continue your wonderful care of your brother under these
circumstances?” She was pleased at how firmly Miss Darcy spoke her agreement.

“Very
well then, we shall proceed.” By then, Elizabeth knew that the laudanum was
having the fullness of the effect of the dose that had been administered. She
was grateful that Mr. Darcy was situated so that the sun that came through the
window reflected the amount of light she needed to see the wound clearly.
Elizabeth went to work, probing into the wound to get the rest of the debris
left from the shot. It took a steady hand and much patience, but Elizabeth was
determined to leave nothing behind. Parker, Mr. Darcy’s valet, was asked to
come inspect the hole in the greatcoat, the jacket, and the sleeve of the shirt
to determine if he felt there were any remaining threads that might have been
missed. Parker and Miss Darcy’s maid had yet to leave Netherfield Park when
their master and mistress returned. They were just finishing packing the rest
of the Darcy’s belongings when they were notified of the carriage’s sudden
arrival.

Parker
had served his master since he was in Cambridge and he had deep respect for
this young man. It was difficult seeing him struggle with the pain, as it had
been difficult watching him struggle with the tremendous burden his father left
him at his death. Yet, he was extremely proud to be servant to such a good and
honorable man. He observed closely the young lady working on his master’s arm.
As she worked, she spoke soothingly, both to his master and to young Miss
Darcy. Cook routinely brought clean bowls of steaming water for Miss Elizabeth.
Each time she came in the room, she was asked by the butler if she had washed.
Parker watched Miss Elizabeth’s reaction the last time Cook entered. The
exchange between butler and kitchen staff, Cook’s terse reply to his question,
bespoke familiarity overlaid with respect. Miss Elizabeth recognized this with
a small smile as she never once took her eyes off her work. Mr. Darcy’s
servants could not help but be impressed with the care she was giving their
master.

“Mr.
Darcy,” Elizabeth continued digging ever deeper into the wound, looking for
bits of fabric and metal, “you appear to be holding up. Before I rinse the
wound with spirits, would you like a bit more of my bitter tea to sustain you?”
She removed the cloth from his mouth so he could respond.

“I
am well, Miss Elizabeth. Please, continue.” Elizabeth could see the beads of
sweat on his upper lip and hear the pain in his voice. There was much to admire
and respect about this man.

Three
things happened at once. Elizabeth packed towels under Mr. Darcy’s arm and
poured the whisky generously over both bullet holes, Mr. Darcy sucked in his
breath and groaned deeply around the cloth she had wedged back in his mouth,
and Colonel Fitzwilliam tried to enter the room without washing. The uproar
from the doorway was astounding. The battle-hardened officer stood toe-to-toe against
the aged, wheezing, sword-bearing butler.  Gideon and Gabriel, though young in
years, had known the Colonel for a long while. They recognized that he was a
man used to having his way. Both chuckled, as did Georgiana. Colonel
Fitzwilliam towered over Mr. Burton and certainly outweighed him by a large
amount. However, the elderly man won the moment as shockingly, Georgiana spoke
up boldly. “Richard, you had best throw down your weapons and surrender as you
will not win this particular battle.” The Colonel’s eyes moved, looking
severely into the face of the butler to gaze softly at his young cousin.
Elizabeth felt Mr. Darcy’s arm shaking, in fact, his whole body was shaking,
bringing immediate concern to all who held him tight. It only took a moment until
all holding him realized he was shaking in mirth, not pain. Elizabeth removed
the cloth from between his teeth and begged Georgiana to roll a clean one.

“Yes,
Richard,” said Darcy, his speech slurred from the laudanum. However, it was
said with a sarcastic tone that Elizabeth had not heard from him before, “it
would not do for one of England’s finest to escape injury on the Continent to
receive injury at home. Nor would it be wise to tax Miss Elizabeth’s healing
abilities with more than one injured victim at a time.”

Grumbling,
Colonel Fitzwilliam moved back out of the doorway to the table that Mrs.
Nicholls had placed in the hallway. It contained a pitcher and bowl of clean
water, soap, and a towel. The Colonel did as directed and then held his hands
up in front of Mr. Burton’s face for inspection. Once Mr. Burton stepped aside
and allowed him to pass, he strode with confident strides towards the table.

“Well,
Darce, you got yourself in the middle of a muddle this time.” He stopped and
surveyed Mr. Darcy’s arm and the care being given to it. He looked to
Georgiana, “Careful, there, poppet, you would not want to rub those furrows off
that high brow. Might be none of his friends would recognize him.” The Colonel
chuckled to himself, but Elizabeth looked up and saw the serious concern in his
eyes.

“What
has been done about George, Richard?” Mr. Darcy grimaced, but his need for
information outweighed any other concern.

“Darce,
Georgiana, I spoke with the constable and Wickham will be treated like a
highwayman and is already headed to his grave in a field reserved for criminals
and those without means.”

At
this, Mr. Darcy interrupted the Colonel. Surprisingly, with his weakened state,
his voice was firm and strong. “No, Richard, he needs to be taken to Pemberley
and buried there. As much as I detest what he has done, especially to Georgie,
he was my father’s son.”