Mr Darcy's Torment Chapter 10, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Dear readers, I am so sorry for the delay! Real life has reared its ugly head in the form of a stroke for my FIL and other minor issues for our family. Thanks for hanging in there with me! I plan to return to a more frequent posting schedule as soon as possible.

There was too much going on in this chapter when I first wrote it so I decided to split it up. This means it's a bit shorter than I wanted but on the other hand, Chapter 11 is almost finished and soon to be posted. :)

Chapter 10

He was staggering through the morass again. Swirling across its surface was a white fog so thick it felt like it would choke him if he were to breathe it in. He struggled with every step, fought assiduously for each one, consciously putting one foot in front of the other, the exertion depleting his strength. A foul stench assaulted him with every laboured step. Feelings of dread and anxiety, almost palpable in their ferocity, roiled through him as he sluggishly crossed the quagmire. There was something important waiting for him on the other side, something precious to him. This thought hammered repeatedly in his head as he tried to capture and focus on the vague impressions flashing through his mind. His inability to manifest any concrete details was exceedingly troublesome.

After what felt like hours, he saw solid land at the farthest front perimeter of his vision and suddenly he understood. There stood Georgiana, her golden hair unbound and whipping around her face, her skirts fluttering in the brisk wind, wrapping around her legs. Curiously he observed that he could not feel any wind upon his own person. The feelings of dread and anxiety increased exponentially the closer he came to his sister. Attempting to increase his rate of speed, he struggled against the heavy and mysterious weight that restricted his movement.

When he looked up again, he was elated to find that he was almost upon his sister. The strange wind continued to blow around her but did not touch him. He called out to her frantically, but she remained unseeing. Taking steps to mount the bank and ascend to higher ground, he shuddered violently when he walked into a cold spot. He froze in place for a fraction of a second, fear flooding him, and then he scrambled up the bank to his sister's side with a profound feeling of urgency to get her to safety.

The wind picked up violently and he finally felt it hit his body, the cold penetrating his clothes and numbing his skin. He reached out for his sister but he could not grasp her nor touch her. Frustrated, he ran at her in an attempt to move her from her frozen position, but he was shocked when he saw that he could not close the gap between them. No matter how hard he tried, Georgiana remained at a fixed and constant distance from him.

White puffs of warm air burst out rapidly from his lips as he felt the temperature drop even lower. Standing stock-still, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up and a frisson of utter terror slide down his spine. A crackle of electricity flowed through the atmosphere and he waited for the apparition to appear. He was not disappointed as the old hag materialised in front of him, her blood-red eyes set deep in the black void of the sockets in her bony skull.

The banshee hovered eerily and then raised her skeletal hand accusingly in the air, pointing straight at him. Turning her attention towards Georgiana, he felt an intense terror envelop him and he opened his mouth to protest. He watched, horrified, as the banshee floated towards his sister and embraced her in her grisly arms, the bones bare of flesh. Georgiana's eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp. The banshee began to recede into the shadows dragging Georgiana slowly with her. He could not make himself move, could not hasten after his sister to save her, he cried out in sheer terror, his arms outstretched to stop her abduction.

At the last possible moment, just before Georgiana disappeared into the darkness, he saw her body stiffen and her limbs flail, struggling to escape. Hope flared in his heart and then she was gone. He held his breath, his blood rushing loudly in his ears, waiting and hoping for her return. Without warning, he saw a slim, white arm emerge from the shadows and he watched as his sister's fingers curled into the ground in an attempt to find purchase, to escape the hag. He stood rooted in fear, the last vestiges of hope obliterated, as her nails left deep furrows in the dirt whilst her arm was slowly dragged backwards and once again swallowed by the darkness.

Swifter than he could have imagined, the fog disappeared and he was standing under a calm night sky, the countless stars twinkling brightly in a background of black velvet. He cried out to the heavens in frustration and pain for the loss of his sister.

Darcy awoke suddenly, his own voice echoing in his ears. He was clammy and breathing heavily, his nightshirt stuck to his body. Sitting up, he rubbed his hand across his face and then leaned against the headboard of the bed. As his heartbeat calmed and slowed to a more normal pace, he wondered at the strange dream he had just had. Recalling the details in perfect clarity, Darcy was apprehensive about what it might foretell and said a quiet prayer for his sister and her safety.

Colonel Fitzwilliam awoke with a start as the carriage hit a particularly bumpy portion of the road, knocking his head against the side of the wall. As he rubbed his head ruefully, he wished for the hundredth time this morning that he had ridden his horse. Although the Darcy carriage was well-sprung and the squabs well-padded, he would have preferred to ride horseback, even in the chilly weather. He could not forsake Georgiana, however, as he had promised to make most of the trip inside the coach with her.

The rut had also awakened Georgiana and her companion and they both sat up and stretched as best they could in the confined space. His cousin yawned daintily covering her mouth with her gloved hand.

"Fitz, do you have any idea of where we are now?" she asked craning her neck to look out the window.

Retrieving his pocket watch from his waistcoat, the Colonel replied, "We are almost to Market Harborough, I'm sure. We're scheduled to stop in Kettering for the evening."

"And none too soon," stated Georgiana somewhat irritably. "I am weary of being inside this coach."

Her cousin silently echoed her sentiments in his own thoughts and wondered how he could politely extricate himself from the coach's interior and mount his horse to ride the last leg of the trip. He sat staring out the window, his fingers absent-mindedly tapping on the bench seat. He sighed loudly, drawing Georgiana's attention.

The colonel was a gentleman in every sense of the word, having been raised as the son of an Earl, but he preferred to be active rather than indolent and served by others. Well aware that her cousin's military training and lifestyle had taken some of the ton shine and polish off of him, Georgiana knew him as a man of action and that riding in the coach all day was a sacrifice for him. A small one but still a sacrifice. She knew he would rather be outside and in control of his actions by riding his horse instead of restricted to the cramped confines of the coach.

"Fitz, if you want to get out and ride, please do not remain in here for my sake. I know you do not like being constrained in here and that you are dearly wishing to be riding Luna." She smiled kindly at him.

Fitzwilliam sighed in relief. "Thank you, Poppet. You are the best." He blew her a kiss. Rapping on the roof, the coach stopped long enough for the colonel to settle himself on his horse and then they were off again.

The day was cool but full of sunshine and Colonel Fitzwilliam took advantage of the fine weather. Loosening his horse's reins, the pair galloped ahead to have a good run and work off some energy. A quarter of an hour later, the colonel stopped at a particularly pretty copse of trees at the side of the road and found a small stream not too far away. Allowing Luna to rest and drink some water, he sat on the river bank and waited for the carriage to catch up.

Taking out his pocket watch for the fifth time in a half an hour, the colonel stood at the side of the road and wondered where his cousin was. The coach had not passed by yet and he was beginning to worry. Deciding it would be best to head back the way he had come and see what was the matter, he mounted Luna and urged her to hurry.

A feeling of dread curled in the pit of his belly as the colonel saw a coach lying on its side in a ditch. He skidded to a halt and jumped down from his horse while simultaneously assessing the extent of the damage. The coachman had tumbled off the carriage and was sitting in the grass rubbing his shoulder.

"Georgiana!" Fitzwilliam yelled frantically. There was no sound from the interior and Fitzwilliam's heart stalled in his chest. Climbing on the side of the carriage that was pointing toward the sky, the colonel yanked open the door and peered inside at the darkness. "Georgiana? Mrs Annesley?" He saw two figures crumpled at the bottom, their skirts a tangle of fabric, and his breath caught in his throat.

Lowering himself through the carriage door, he landed carefully and found his cousin and her companion sprawled on the bottom of the carriage. Moving to Georgiana first, he felt her pulse and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He turned his attention to Mrs Annesley and found that she, too, was alive.

"Georgiana . . ." The colonel gently lifted and turned his cousin's head. Feeling something warm and sticky on his hand, he pulled it out from underneath and saw it was covered with blood. The feeling of dread returned full force and he sat back on his haunches looking around the interior for anything he could use to staunch the flow.

His eyes finally landed on the skirt at his feet and he reached down to his cousin's hem to separate the layers of material, ripping a strip of muslin from her petticoat. Gingerly lifting Georgiana's head again, he managed to wrap the muslin strip around her head and over the wound. Tying it off, he heard Mrs Annesley moan and he turned to tend to her. Fortunately, Mrs Annesley was not hurt aside from some bruising and a small bump on the side of her head. Regrettably, she was not able to relay to the colonel what had occurred to Georgiana during the accident but Mrs Annesley was able to tell him that she had struck her head against the wall of the carriage as it overturned and Georgiana had landed on her leaving Mrs Annesley winded from the blow.

Georgiana remained insensible while the colonel assisted Mrs Annesley out the coach door. He boosted her up with his hands under one boot, as if she were mounting a horse, and the coachman pulled from the top. In order to extricate his cousin from the interior of the coach, a sling was fashioned from a length of rope and she was gently pulled up and out of the coach door with the colonel supporting her from the bottom.

Once the ladies were freed from the carriage, the two men, with the timely assistance of a local farmer who was passing by, were able to right the carriage. The farmer's mule and the three available horses were used to turn the coach over. There were some exterior scratches and visible dirt, but overall, the carriage was in good shape.

The coachman explained that a small animal had darted out directly in the path of the horses who had then startled at the sudden and unexpected movement. The reaction of the horses scared the poor animal who then could not decide whether to run the rest of the way across or to return from whence it came and this was the main cause of the accident. The horses had pushed and pulled to the side of the road in order to get away from the creature but in their fright, they were not taking commands and they ran too close to the side of the road. The carriage had not tumbled violently over as the colonel had feared but instead slid down the incline of the ditch landing awkwardly

Unluckily, Georgiana had hit her head on something sharp which rendered her insensible. Her cousin was worried and from his military experience knew that a blow to the head, even a simple one, could result in permanent damage or death. They travelled the few miles to Market Harborough with Georgiana's head resting on Colonel Fitzwilliam's thigh to help absorb the shock of the bouncing carriage.

At the inn, the colonel helped Mrs Annesley to settle Georgiana in her room and after requesting that a physician be sent for, he arranged for their supper trays to be delivered. Receiving a tray in his own room, the colonel quickly ate his fill and made haste to return to check on his cousin. Knocking on the door, he was bade to enter by Mrs Annesley. He saw Georgiana lying in the bed with the bandage still wrapped around her head and the physician at her side.

"How is she?" he asked the physician.

The older man gave him a suspicious look. The colonel quickly introduced himself and asked for a prognosis.

"Colonel, Miss Darcy has sustained a head concussion. I have cleaned the cut and it did not require stitching."

"Has she awakened yet?" the colonel enquired hopefully.

"Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Mrs Annsley replied, "She awoke briefly but cast up her accounts —." She stopped abruptly at the dark look on the colonel's countenance.

"An expected side effect of the concussion, sir," the physician hurriedly stated in an attempt to calm him. "You must attempt to awaken her every couple of hours throughout the night. If she does not awaken, then we must expect a dire outcome. If she is easily awakened, then we will be assured of her recovery."

Frowning slightly, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked when they might expect Georgiana to be recovered and if they could travel.

"If her condition does not worsen, she should be feeling more like herself in the morning, although I would expect her to complain of having a mild headache for the next day or so. You should be able to resume your travels as soon as tomorrow if the young lady is feeling up to it." After a few more follow-up questions and making arrangements for the physician's return early in the morning, the colonel bade him goodbye and then goodnight to Mrs Annesley.

Returning to his room, the colonel sat heavily in the chair at the small table. Sighing deeply, he ran his hand over his face and then propped his chin in his hand. He stared at nothing for a few moments until his eyes focussed on the wine bottle. Pouring himself a glass, he briefly wished it was brandy. After a few fortifying swallows, he sat back and pondered what to write to Darcy.

The Three Swans Hotel, Market Harborough, Leicestershire

November 18th

Darcy,

There has been a carriage accident and Georgiana has received a head injury. We have stopped here for the evening instead of in Kettering as previously planned. The local physician has examined her and has declared that she is suffering from a concussion and some bruising. He expects a full recovery although we are to awaken her every couple of hours to assess her faculties and will know better in the morning if all is well. Presently, Georgiana is comfortable and being diligently cared for by Mrs Annesley. As soon as she is recovered and it is determined that she is fit for travel, we will make our way to Hertfordshire. I will send word again in the morning.

Col. Fitzwilliam

The overland road coach with its yellow-painted body swayed with the uneven road as it traversed the countryside. Within, sat a young man with good manners and a handsome and open countenance. He pulled a letter from his pocket and read it again before the daylight faded, for he could hardly believe his good fortune. Just when he thought his debts would finally catch up with him and land him in debtor's prison or the workhouse, he had received this timely letter.

November 15th

Wickham,

It has come to my attention that you are floundering under a mountain of debt you have managed to accrue in an amazingly short period of time. Knowing that you have no other choice, I have taken the liberty of purchasing an officer's commission for you in the —shire militia and have enclosed £100 as a show of good faith. The —shire militia is now encamped in Hertfordshire and I need a reliable man in that county in order to ensure that my plans will prevail.

Fitzwilliam Darcy is currently in Hertfordshire visiting an acquaintance. It has come to my attention that he may have formed an attachment to a local young lady with the initial "E". I am charging you with finding this chit and turning her prospects away from Darcy. This connection must not be allowed to develop. Do what you must to end their relationship. Seduction is your speciality, is it not?

If you are successful, and I am sufficiently pleased with the outcome, we can discuss permanent arrangements for a living for you and there will be another £100 made available. I will contact you at regular intervals to assess your progress and success.

A Friend

Wickham did not care who this 'friend' might actually be as their intervention came just in the nick of time. Using some of the enclosed money, he invested in a new suit of clothes and bought passage to Hertfordshire from London. As to his debts, he paid only those that were detrimental to his well-being, hoping that his escape to Hertfordshire would circumvent the rest.

He wondered at the identity of the letter-writer. Whoever they were, they knew quite a bit of his history and also knew of his relationship with Darcy. He scowled as he thought about his adversary. Losing Georgiana's dowry was an unfortunate setback and Darcy was to blame for that defeat. Wickham had always been in Darcy's shadow growing up. He had always lost out to the richer, more handsome, and more gentlemanly Fitzwilliam Darcy, but now he had an opportunity to even the score and bring that gentleman down a notch, or three or four.

Looking forward to meeting Darcy's lady-love, Wickham carefully pocketed the letter and then closed his eyes, imagining what he would do to her, all with her consent of course. He was legendary for his incontrovertible appeal to the fairer sex; he was irresistible. He had no doubt that his charm and good looks would overcome her maidenly sensibilities; they always did. He smiled lewdly at the thought.