Mr. Darcy My Saviour
Last Time:Her mother walked to the door and, with one last look behind her, she left her daughter to her dreamless sleep which was the first in a while.
Darcy's departure was the most eye opening experience for Elizabeth. The Bennet's had returned to their abode and they had begun to settle back in when it started. Her dreams began haunting her reality with images of her attacker outside her window. Watching. Just watching; lying in wait for the next moment to attack. This scared Elizabeth to no end.
In the days to follow, her mother often discovered Elizabeth in a ball in the corner of the room; too afraid to lift her head. Other times, Elizabeth would scream Darcy's name wishing he would hear her and come back to her. He was the only thing that made sense to Elizabeth at this time. He was the one beacon of light in a world of darkness. She should not have pushed him away like she had; if she had not he would be with her right at this very second. He would comfort her and tell her that the man could no longer harm her. However, she had denied Mr. Darcy forgiveness hence his fast departure to Pemberley.
Although, she had forgiven him before he went and she knew that Darcy had left to help his sister run his household. So, surely… she knew he was coming back. She decided she would make it up to him and beg him to never leave her side again. She would accept his marriage proposal if only it meant that he would hold her in his arms and tell her that she was his; no-one else's.
But then, in the future, would she come to regret giving him her body and her will? Will he take advantage of her like her attacker had? Would she just be surrendering herself to future beatings, vileness and possessiveness that she had encountered already?
No, Elizabeth thought, decisively. Mr. Darcy was a man of morals and pride. He would never act in such an abominable way towards a woman. No matter how low of a woman she was. That was why she trusted him and why she trusted her mother's judgement. They would never allow her to be hurt again. Not for as long as they both breathed the air of the Earth and walked the ground of God. This meant that Elizabeth was safe; for now.
With this thought, she fell into a fitful slumber.
A slight tapping noise woke her a few hours later. It was coming from the window. Elizabeth sat up, quickly, in bed and reached for a candle that was no longer there. Elizabeth tore her eyes from the bedside when a crash sounded across the room.
A rock had been thrown through the glass pane. It had a note tied around it which meant only one thing. Elizabeth rose from her bed and quickly grabbed the river pebble. She sat back on her bed, resting against the headboard and untied the string. When the note fell away, Elizabeth's blood ran cold. It said: 'I am coming for you my pretty little thing'.
A shadow began to crawl over her covers, gradually closing the distance between her and it. The smell of Mr. Herald's stale breath attacked her senses and she felt her body being dragged down the bed. She tried kicking and screaming to no avail. The thing surrounded her in its foulness and began pounding like a rabid dog. When her screams began getting louder and the feeling started getting rougher, she noticed a soft voice calling to her. 'Lizzie, Wake up. Lizzie!'
Elizabeth's eyes snapped open and the pounding ceased. She bolted up right in bed and the room began to spin causing her stomach to lurch. She was quick enough to reach for her bed pan, which recently sat on her bedside table, and place it under her chin before the contents of her stomach managed to paint the white bed linens in all sorts of ugly colours. Her mother's hand rubbed her back and Jane held her tresses away from her face as she remained doubled over; retching. Her vision began to swim with black spots and her head was thumping continuously.
This was what Lizzie woke to pretty much all the time; her stomach protesting and her head swimming with dizziness. Her mother wanted to send for a doctor but Elizabeth would not have it. She was adamant that nothing was wrong with her. "It is simply the shock," Elizabeth would say to her mother on many occasions. But how could she ignore this any longer? This was not right. These feelings do not encroach on a healthy person. They only begin when someone is sick. Or…
No, Elizabeth would not go down that route. She could not bear the idea… Not alone. Not like this.
"I need Mr. Darcy. Mama, please send for him, it has been weeks." Elizabeth whimpered and reached over into her mother's arms. "I cannot stand this feeling any longer. I feel like I am suffocating. I am drowning in a world that does not understand." She sobbed into her mother's shoulder and felt her elder sister press against her back, embracing her. "There is so much pain and I cannot endure it any longer. I need him. Here. With me. Please?" She pleaded in a broken whisper.
Her mother stroked her hair continuously throughout her confession, all the while uttering a simple "Shh". When Elizabeth's tears abated somewhat, her mother began to speak. "I received word from Mr. Bingley, who has been in correspondence with Mr. Darcy, that Mr. Darcy has already begun his journey back." Mrs. Bennet assured her daughter and she slowly began to rock her daughter in her arms. "It seems that something in Mr. Bingley's letters disturbed Mr. Darcy enough to start travelling ahead of time. You won't be alone anymore. He is coming home." Elizabeth let out a soft breath of air and felt her entire being relax.
When the images of Elizabeth's dream returned to her, she began to cower. "I am so sorry, Mama. I have let you down; you too, Jane. I have ruined everything." Elizabeth cried in anguish and felt her resolve vanish into thin air.
"None of this is your fault, Mo muirnín. You are just a victim," Jane whispered. Elizabeth was so glad that she decided to confide in her sister. Sometimes, there are reassurances that you cannot get from your mother. Ones that you know cannot always be easily bought. Jane and Elizabeth were as close as anything and Elizabeth would never doubt that. But, she must admit that she was surprised, to say the least, that her sister was so… caring. But then again, that is Jane all over. She was as nice as summer blossoms.
Elizabeth attempted to smile at her older sister but could not find the strength. "I see your Gaelic lessons are paying off. What does 'Mo muirnín' mean?"
Jane smiled at her younger sister, "It means 'my darling'." Elizabeth had felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The endearment, normally, was incredibly sweet but with the rough sounds of the Scottish tongue it was made to sound almost… mystical. At least, that was what it sounded like to Elizabeth.
"It is very sweet," Elizabeth voiced her opinion. "Make sure you use it more often. It becomes you." Elizabeth had meant the comment as a joke but as soon as the words were in the air, Elizabeth knew them to be true. Jane would have made a grand Scottish lady. Jane smiled faintly and nodded her head in aquisance whilst mumbling a soft, "as you wish, Mo muirnín." This was enough to bring a smile to Lizzie's face.
She then turned to her mother and made one of the hardest decisions. She decided that she could no longer go on feeling ill. She needed help and she needed it fast. If that meant bringing in a doctor, then so be it. "Mother, I have decided to take up your advice. I believe it has long gone past the time for us to find out what is ailing me. So would you be so kind as to send for the doctor?"
The look of pure delight and relief fought across her mother's features; dissipating the look of concern and confusion. However, when Mrs. Bennet answered, she made sure none of her feelings, which were on her face, bled through into her words; "As you wish, my child."
Mrs. Bennet began to walk towards Elizabeth's door. However, just before she laid a hand on the oak, she turned and looked to her second and eldest daughters. Love blossomed on her features as she watched the two siblings embrace. "Elizabeth," her mother called to her. Elizabeth nodded towards her mother asking her to continue. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."
In that moment, Elizabeth knew that with the support of her family and friends she would make it through. She just wished that Mr. Darcy would return post haste so that she could begin to patch up their relationship.
With Mr. Darcy on the road to Netherfield,
The words of Bingley's last letter kept rattling around in Darcy's head. The letter had bid for his hasty return and it wasn't something he was about to ignore. With that resolve in mind, he had sent a letter ahead to Netherfield and started to pack a few belongings. It was too late to leave that evening, thus, Darcy decided to leave the next day. It was a restless night and had left Darcy feeling unnerved.
Dear Darcy,
The news in which this letter brings is not of good fortune. The matter is most delicate here that I fear I could not wait for you to return in three weeks.
Miss Elizabeth's condition is worsening. I have visited her every day, like you requested, and saw no improvement. She seems to be pulling further and further away from reality. Mrs. Bennet fears for her daughter; not that she ever goes into great detail. The fear is in her eyes and the way that she holds herself. It seems that Miss Elizabeth has begun to stop eating and that she can no longer sleep through the evenings. Her face grows more and more gaunt and her cries become more and more frequent.
I have never seen the Bennet family look so haggard. They no longer come into town and no longer speak to their friends. The youngest Bennet's have been sent away to their Aunt's home in London because Mr. and Mrs. Bennet fear for their mental state. Lydia and Kitty had begun to withdraw themselves from the family, all except for Miss Elizabeth. They would spend their days sitting by her bedside just holding her hands as she slept. I had never seen them that quiet and it unnerved me. The third eldest, Mary, used to sit by the window in the living room and just stare out of it, waiting for something. When Jane asked, Mary's reply was that she 'was waiting for the inevitable day of Elizabeth's demise'. This frightened Jane and me, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.
The family has changed so drastically that I can scarce believe that it has been a mere four weeks since your departure. I fear what might happen if Miss Elizabeth carries on down this path of destruction. I just know that it might mean the demise of something good, honest and strong.
I am sorry to drop this on you, Darcy, but I cannot hold back any longer. Miss Elizabeth and the Bennet's have come to mean so much to me in the last two months. I know it is the same for you too. Please, Darcy, I beg of you to return. Miss Elizabeth needs you. Mrs. Bennet says that you are the only person Miss Elizabeth asks for. She does not ask for the doctor, her father or her sisters. She asks for you. She wants you home and quite frankly so do I.
Your dearest friend,
Bingley,
Master of Netherfield
When the morning light broke through, Darcy had fled to his stables and grabbed a hold of his saddled horse and begun a hasty retreat; only barely remembering to leave a message with his steward for his sister.
The letter had left Darcy in a state of fear and desperation. He should have known not to leave Elizabeth. He may have thought that she was getting better but that didn't mean that she was. He was such a fool. He saw how she was when he found her and he knew how she asked him to stay. He should have listened. Maybe then she wouldn't have deteriorated so quickly. Either way, none of that negative thinking was helping him reach Elizabeth any quicker. He just needed to stay calm and keep a level head otherwise he could have an accident. Then where would he be?
The journey was long and tedious and that did not help to sooth Darcy in any way. He was so far away. What was he thinking, travelling so far away? Obviously he wasn't thinking. Elizabeth needed him and he left her. But then again, his sister needed him as well. What was he meant to do? His family estate had gone on long enough without its master and he knew his steward could not handle to books by himself for much longer. Therefore, he had to return home.
He must admit that it was nice seeing his young sister again. She was growing more and more beautiful by the day and Darcy hated that he was away from her for so long. He hated the way that it had been left two months ago when he had left to help Bingley into Netherfield. He should have tried to put it right before he had left but he had been so angry that he hadn't wanted to sort it. He could barely look at Georgiana without remembering that monster's touch upon her. It wasn't her that he was angry with but he had taken it out on her. He could not be any better than Wickham or the man that attacked Elizabeth. Darcy had hurt both his sister and the woman he loved all because he was an arrogant, self-important, pompous arse.
Aznavour jostled, roughly, almost throwing Darcy out of his seat. This broke through Darcy's self-shame and made him aware of where he was going. Aznavour seemed to have been teetering on the edge of a ravine which made him come to a sharp stop. Darcy knew this ravine; it was one that was on the grounds of Netherfield. He was almost there. Darcy would finally be able to see Elizabeth again. He looked to the sky and noticed that it was already nightfall. He hadn't realised the hours of the day passing by. Darcy had left Pemberley at first light which meant that he had completed a day and a half of slow horseback riding in a matter of a few hours.
That meant that Darcy would not be able to see Elizabeth until tomorrow. Disappointment and agitation begun to unfold within Darcy's chest and he decided to take a moment to breathe and calm down. Getting agitated would not help his situation and would not get him to Elizabeth any sooner.
Once he was calm, Darcy made his way around the ravine.
It took a good twenty minutes to reach the small bridge that passed over the ravine. But once he found it, Darcy made sure that Aznavour took his time to reach Netherfield. The poor horse was worn out and deserved a moment's respite. There was no reason for Darcy to rush and he was too early for tea anyway, so why not take his time.
Thoughts of Elizabeth filled the time it took to get to Netherfield. Darcy thought about her smile, her eyes, her sharp wit and her razor sharp humour. She was captivating and Darcy could not wait until the time when he would call her, his.