First and foremost, my deepest apologies to everyone for the unplanned hiatus!
I would love to be able to say that more regular updates are guaranteed, however to my frustration I cannot. Over the past several months my health has taken some very large hits leaving me entirely at its mercy. In 6 months I have gone from about in control of ones life as you can get with 4 wee ones, to careening wildly out of control and barely managing to care for my families basic needs. Due to severely low iron and hemoglobin my speech is often difficult to put together much less writing. Thus this chapter represents a depressing number of hours! (to be fair I get enough of them stuck in bed!)
It won't be forever, and I hope to get on top of things, but as I am now struggling with a very poorly timed pregnancy to boot, (I am actually getting excited... finally!) I am not sure if that will mean more chapters or less. With near constant internal bleeding I am forever stuck in a chair or a bed, so as my head slowly clears hopefully that's more! Once again, I am sorry, this might just be the slowest story ever!
I had hoped to get the night of the fire out in one hit, but trying to put all the events into one chapter was just far too much, so here is part one. Enjoy!
PS, A huge thank you to all those who have stuck with me, and especially those such as LotsOfLaundry who always have such encouraging words. As per typos etc, I hope at some point to do a huge revision, but till then, please be forgiving!
CHAPTER 14
Time passed by unheeded for Darcy as he stood in the small glade, absorbed in the tranquil serenity afforded by the trickling stream and the whisper of the trees. He remained in place for hours mutely watching the ribbon in his hand flutter this way and that in the gentle breeze, not so very unalike his own thoughts.
The moment of Darcy's revelation everything seemed simple and clear. For once, Darcy could see a clear path through the confused mess that generally shrouded his emotions. His heart was not weighed down by his families expectations, nor his mind encumbered by the practicalities of such a match. His feelings for Miss Elizabeth were simple and beautiful, tangible, even. He could list a string of qualities he admired about her, and could clearly envisage a life with her by his side.
Standing there in what he had come to think of as Elizabeth's glade, Darcy indulged himself- imagining blissful images from a perfect future. He imagined bringing her home to Pemberly, the look in her fine eyes as she saw the gardens, and gaily strolled through the wooded trails. He imagined coming upon her sat embroidering in the drawing room with Georgiana, her tinkling laughter filling every corner of the room, a warm fire blazing even as the snow pelted against the window panes. A picnic in the late summer sun, both of them stretched out on the grass feeding one another sweet strawberries, a tiny baby girl cooing softly nearby.
But as the shadows grew longer, reality slowly began to ooze into Darcy's mind. His engagement to Anne. His fathers cruel disregard for his feelings. Georgiana.
Slowly, the happy images were replaced in his minds eye with harsher, more realistic images.
Introducing his new bride to his father, the old mans lips curling into a sneer as he reminded him once more how disappointed his mother would have been had she lived to see this day. His first foray into society with Elizabeth by his side, as one by one all the paramount ladies of the ton lifted their fans and outright snubbed her, the only acknowledgment of her existence a trail of vicious gossip and sniggering in her wake. The image of gentle Georgiana, her tiny delicate hand engulfed in the much larger, callused one of Richards, as together they pledge their lives even as rivulets of tears run down her face hidden only by her veil. But worst of all, Elizabeth's beautiful fine eyes, as day by day they lose their fire, until finally, all spirit and joy stripped bare by the endless hostility from his family, they dance no more, but look into his own with listless misery and regret.
Aunt Catherine's words from what seemed to Darcy a lifetime ago repeated in his ears, "Are you a peasant that you might marry the first pretty thing to catch your eye?"
No, Fitzwilliam Darcy was not a peasant. Fitzwilliam Darcy was the heir to The Pemberly estate. Fitzwilliam Darcy had responsibilities to uphold, and people to care for. Son of one of the wealthiest men in England, heir to one of the grandest estates in the kingdom, and nephew to the Earl of Matlock as well as his sister Lady DeBourgh, two of the most influential personages of the ton.
But what is more, Fitzwilliam Darcy was responsible for the happiness of his only sister, the only pure memory, only true legacy, of his mother- the late Anne Darcy. The daughter for whom she had given her life, yet never had the chance to watch grow. The child he had sworn to protect at any cost. The child whom he would give his life and future for in a heartbeat.
As Darcy stood thinking about this, he attempted to rationalize his emotions. After all, it was easy for William Smith, a simple working man, to fall in love and allow his heart to rule his mind. He had nobody but himself to please. But Darcy was not William Smith, and he knew he must remember that fact.
He was Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir of Pemberly and soon to be engaged to Miss Anne DeBough. He could not afford to give his heart to a mere country gentleman's daughter, with little to offer in dowry or connections.
Darcy closed his eyes against the searing pain in his heart as he realized that in coming here to Hertfordshire, he had gained much more than he had hoped, but that in returning to take his place he would have to give up so much more than he had started out with.
Before leaving Pemberly he had told Harvey, his valet and friend since childhood, that he wished to know if he had a soul to surrender to his father. Now he knew for a certainty he did, but that he would surrender it not to his father, but rather to Elizabeth, for surely it would be torn from him as he left her.
Attempting to shut out the pain in his heart and rouse himself from his melancholy, Darcy recalled that Elizabeth had mentioned a small hill not far from here where one could see a great distance. So reverently placing the now crushed strip of ribbon inside his breast pocket, Darcy turned and walked through the trees until he stood atop a large hill. Seating himself on a nearby rock, Darcy simply observed the landscape as dusk gently set in around him.
Darcy could make out two sizable estates from his vantage point, as well as a number of small farms. He identified the smaller house, a red brick house in the Tudor style, as Lucas Lodge, whilst several miles east of that lay a much larger, finer house. The picturesque multi-story Georgian manor shone a brilliant golden hue as the light sand stone walls caught the last rays of sun, the well kept gardens laid out immaculately before an expanse of green fields that had the appearance of a giant emerald patchwork quilt. It could only be Netherfield, thought Darcy, and he smiled at the boyish wonder he could just imagine on his dear friends face as Bingley first beheld the place.
So involved was he in his thoughts, that for some time he did not notice the thin line of black smoke ascending from the larger of the farms before him. But as the smoke steadily grew thicker and darker, Darcy began to take considerable note. The smoke seemed to be coming from a large barn, but he could not see evidence of anyone in attendance. Darcy realized that with the assembly in Merryton tonight, it was hardly unlikely that the farmer and his family were not around ,and therefore decided to go see what help, if any, he could offer.
Rising from his seat, he ran as fast as he could back to Longbourne, where he called Stephen to join him. Quickly, the two men saddled their horses and set out in the direction of the fire, the smoke now a thick black column in the evening sky.
As they neared the farm however, it became clear that the barn was already heavily ablaze. Panicked horses bolted up and down fencelines, a dog tied to the house barked madly as it strained against it's bindings, sheep in nearby fields huddled in the furthest corners, their frenzied eyes wide and bloodshot as they bayed in a wild chorus.
Appraising the situation quickly, Darcy leapt from his mount even as he yelled directions to Stephen to go back to Longbourne and get as much help as he could muster. The barn could not be saved, but if they hurried, perhaps they could prevent any further losses. Stephen hurriedly spurred his horse back and galloped off at speed.
Darcy attempted to see what his first move should be, and settled on freeing what animals he could so they might get clear of the smoke before they could harm themselves or anyone else. Most of the animals quickly put as much distance as they could between themselves and the blazing flames, but when Darcy freed the dog, a gorgeous long haired collie, he got a surprise. The dog ran straight for the burning barn, and leaping in through the flames, began to bark loudly from within.
Perplexed as he was, Darcy had long ago learned to trust canines, and warily followed the dog.
Shielding his eyes from the stinging smoke that choked his lungs, Darcy pulled his shirt over his mouth. As Darcy's sight slowly acclimatized to the smoke, he followed the direction of the dogs profuse barking, at last sighting the animal who was now vigorously tugging at a lump trapped under a fallen beam. Darcy peered into the swirling smoke, and with a sickening lurch in his stomach, realized the lump was in fact a young girl, her face pressed down into the straw, her lower half pinned to the ground by a huge wooden beam.
Darcy immediately rushed to the girls side and felt for a pulse, but as he did so, the girl began to stir, so instead he shook her shoulder gently.
"Miss, Miss! We need to get you out of here, can you help me?"
The girl blinked several times,seeming confused, but after a moment she quietly whispered a response.
"I... I tried,... But my legs,... I can't move them."
Darcy surveyed the damage, and noticed that one of the girls legs protruded at an odd angle, whilst the other had severe burning from the girls ankle to her knee, perhaps even further, but it was hidden by her thick skirts. Bracing himself against the heavy wood that pinned her down, Darcy attempted to move the beam from off her, but as he took the weight she was still unable to move herself out. Again and again Darcy attempted to heave the beam aside, but whilst he could lift it slightly for a short time, any serious movement was impossible. Finally, Darcy returned to the girl.
"Miss, I am going to have to try to drag you out, if we loose much more time we will not be able to get out of here at all. I am so sorry, it is going to hurt a great deal I fear." Darcy muttered to the girl, but she was drifting in and out of consciousness now, and he wondered if she even heard him.
Hooking his arms beneath her own dainty limbs, Darcy braced himself and heaved with all his might. It took several heavy pulls, but finally he managed to get her free, just as the roof began to give way to the back of the building. The girls leg was bleeding profusely now, as large areas of burnt skin had peeled away as it grated against the rough wooden beam. Exhausted and struggling for breath, Darcy hefted her into his arms awkwardly, and stumbled back the way he had come.
The collie that had earlier alerted him to the young girls plight was barking furiously once more, and Darcy wondered if someone else were trapped also. But there was no time now, as he would be fortunate to save just himself and the girl as it was. Peering desperately into the smoke to where the dog barked, he could just make out a bundled up blanket with a litter of mewing pups, but the mother could not reach them for the blaze that had by now engulfed the barn.
"I am so sorry." Darcy whispered with feeling, before turning his back, and hurrying out of the inferno.
Darcy carried the girl up to the farmhouse veranda, and lowered her to the floor, collapsing down beside her moments later, heaving great gulps of air into his starved lungs. He looked back toward the barn, now a blazing ruin, and saw that the flames had already spread to the other outbuildings also. If something were not done soon, the blaze would quickly spread to encompass the house as well. But Darcy could not afford to see to both the fire and the girl, so he returned his attention to her, knowing as he did that one mans efforts alone would be futile in the face of such a blaze. He could only hope that help would arrive soon.
Darcy swiftly tore off his shirt and cravat, his waistcoat long since gone, and quickly fashioned the cravat into a temporary tourniquet around her leg to stem the blood-flow. Then, soaking his shirt in cool water from a nearby trough, he gently wrapped it around the burnt limb in an effort to stop it from burning further.
Slowly, the girl began to come around.
"Where,... Am I?" she croaked out.
"You are at the house. I just pulled you from the barn, it is burning as we speak. How is your leg, is the pain very bad?" Darcy responded, his own voice scratchy also, but wanting her to stay awake.
"My leg? It is fine." The girl replied tiredly before her eyes snapped open, "The pups!.. Where... Where...are they alright?"
Darcy swallowed, the dog was no longer barking, but nor had he seen it emerge from the barn.
"Your leg does not pain you?" He asked rather than tell her the truth.
"No. No,... I went to feed the pups, they must have,..." The girl became unresponsive once more then, and Darcy got some more cold water to run across her burns.
That she could not move her legs did not surprise him. They were both severely mangled, but he was far more concerned that she could not even feel them. He had heard of such injuries from Richard. Men on the battlefield, their bodies flung like little rag dolls across the field by cannon blasts, who lost movement and sensation in their limbs. Often loss of sensation is merely a symptom of shock, but sometimes, often even, the feeling never returns.
Darcy looked the girl over. She was pretty for her age, with long golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, she was scarce more than a child ,and already her future was destroyed, if she even survived the night.
At last, several horses clattered into the yard. Stephen had managed to round up six men from surrounding farms in addition to George and himself. Stephen dismounted quickly and hurried over to Darcy.
"There are eight of us together Mister, nine including yourself. Bernard wanted to come as well, but with his lungs as they are I thought it better he remained to see to the Family when they returned."
" Very good, Stephen, you have done well." Replied Darcy.
"Where should we begin Mister?" Stephen prompted, the other men also clearly awaiting for Darcy to direct them.
Darcy floundered a moment, overwhelmed by the enormity of the task ahead and feeling utterly unprepared for the responsibility laid upon him. Darcy closed his eyes a moment and imagined it were his own home set ablaze, Pemberly itself at risk, and his own precious Georgiana lain halfway between life and death on his very doorstep. He would be the master, and all would look to him for directions as they did now, and suddenly Darcy felt at peace, knowing precisely what to do.
" The priority is the house, barns can be replaced in time but the home is paramount. We cannot save what is already lost, so we aim to salvage what we can.
You three," He bellowed, pointing to three strong young lads, "bucket water and douse the house and ground where the fire approaches.
The rest of you attempt to block the fire spreading along the fences and buildings. Use the blankets on the line over there, soak them in the barrel and use them to stamp out the fires progress.
Stephen, you ride to town as fast as you can. Fetch as many able-bodied men as you can gather, and try to alert the owner if you know who he is. Then fetch the doctor and the surgeon. Tell them it is most urgent. Hurry boy!"
At once the group of men hurried to their assigned tasks, Stephens horse thundering along the road that headed toward town.
Darcy decided his first interest lay in the girl, and so continued his ministrations. Now and then she regained consciousness, though only momentarily, but her speech became increasingly more incomprehensible with each attempt, and Darcy began to wonder if the blanket of unconsciousness were not a blessing.
It was not overly long before the sounds of horse hooves once more clattered into the yard, this time bearing a good twenty men, each dressed in their Sunday best. Almost immediately, a robust man in his forties began to bark out orders to the other men who followed them at once. A
swarm of men seemed to engulf the area, and it was not long before the flames began to recceed.
The man himself walked swiftly up to Darcy on the porch, and bending his knee, dropped down to peer at the girl in concern.
" Mr Smith, I assume?" The man asked, turning his focus on Darcy, to which Darcy replied in the affirmative as he changed the makeshift dressings on the girls leg. "I am told you have things well in hand here, but could appreciate some more hands. I hope you don't mind my directing them to assist in helping carry out your directions?" The man seemed almost nervous beneath his intense gaze.
"Not at all Sir, we were barely holding the flames at bay. I am afraid I cannot leave this girl until the doctor arrives, so it was expedient. I thank you." Darcy responded distractedly, his concern for the girl increasing as she no longer had moments of lucidity.
"Carry,... How does she fare?" The man inquired, his voice softening, and his face crumpling in worry.
"Not well," Darcy whispered in defeat, "She has not regained consciousness for some time now, and when she did she became increasingly confused. She can neither move nor feel her lower limbs, and she has suffered severe burning. I am no Doctor Sir, but I fear her chances are not good."
The older man sighed heavily in response, pulling his cap from his head and scrunching it between his large hands.
"Doctor Jones is not far behind us, along with Mr Bennet and her brother, poor George, in a bit of shock I think. Had a time of it they have... Mr Warren, anyhow." He said, suddenly realizing he had forgotten to introduce himself. "Is there anything I can help with here, or best I go help the men?"
Darcy looked up at the man feeling suddenly helpless once more.
"I do not think there is much more can be done for her until the Doctor arrives. As soon as I am no longer needed I will join you."
The older man stood once more, stuffing his cap back over his greying hair.
"Just you see to our Carry, I'll mind the fire."
They nodded once more, and Mr Warren set off to join the others even as two carriages clattered into the yard.
Darcy watched as an older man carrying a heavy leather case, and a younger man stepped out of one carriage, and were guided quickly up to the porch by Stephen. Behind them, a young man with sandy blonde hair rushed out of the second carriage, and ran up the steps to collapse beside the girl Carry, a gasping sob wracking his form as he took in her condition.
Ignoring who else stepped forth from the carriages, Darcy quickly stepped in to remove the man. Gently grasping his upper arms in his hands, Darcy lightly pulled the man away,
"Come out of the Doctors way now, the doctor needs to see to her so we can all know how to be of assistance to her. You'll be no good to her in this state, come."
The man complied as though in a trance, putting up no effort to stop Darcy removing him, though his eyes never once wavered from the fragile form on the porch floor. At last, he whispered brokenly,
"I should never have left her alone, my dear sweet Carry. Oh what have I done?!" The man began to breathe heavily, and Darcy worried if he did not get a control of himself soon the Doctor would have to split his attentions, which the girl could scarce afford just now.
Setting his jaw, Darcy smacked the man hard across his left cheek, bringing the mans eyes suddenly into focus on him.
"You need to pull yourself together, Carry needs you now, you need to be strong for her. She is not in good shape, it is true, but what is done is done. You must get control of yourself now if you are to be of any use to her!" Darcy's voice was tinged with sympathy, but his face was strong and would brook no argument, and slowly the mans face began to clear.
"Your right, I apologize. Carry needs me now." He whispered, resolve setting a strength in his face that chased away all traces of his former panic.
Together, they returned to the girls side, just as the Doctor finished his examination and turned toward them. Warily eyeing the young man, he seemed to accept that the man's shock had passed and began to relay his findings.
"She's in a bad way, George, a very bad way. She has severe burning on her legs, and is missing a great deal of her skin tissue on one. She has a broken leg, three broken ribs and I daresay a broken spine as well. I do not think I need to tell you her chances are not good. For now she remains unconscious, and I think it is a blessing for the pain will be unbearable on one so young."
"Actually Sir, she did not seem to be in pain earlier, but rather she had no feeling at all in her lower limbs." Darcy interrupted, causing the man to run his hand over his chin and his frown to deepen yet further.
"Hmm... I wonder..."
"What? What do you wonder?" George asked impatiently.
"Well, you see under normal circumstances, I would advise the amputation of the right leg, as the blood loss and tissue damage will almost certainly prove fatal, the body simply cannot recover from such a wound. But as she is already in so much pain, I had worried she would not survive the additional shock from the procedure. On the other hand, if it is as this man says, and she has lost sensation with her spinal damage,... It might just be possible..." The older man stared hard at George for several moments before finally finishing.
"If we leave her be, the leg will most certainly claim her life, which, all things considered, may be a kindness. If however, we were to remove the leg, there is a chance, a very small chance mind you, if she does not get the fever, she might survive."
"Do it." Georges voice ordered steadily.
"Now George, you need to think this through. Consider her life if she does survive..."
"Do it." George repeated, but the doctor continued on.
"She will never be able to walk again, she will not be able to work, or to marry, never be able to hold a child of her own. She will be confined to her bed or a chair for the rest of her life, and that life will almost certainly be fraught with illness,..."
"Do it." Georges voice had dropped to a warning note, but still the Doctor continued,
"Think George! How will you care for her? Your farm lies in ruins, who will give her the care she will most certainly need? She will not thank you, I assure you! Can you commit her to such a life? Can you commit yourself to such a life? Just think of the burden you place upon yourself, be reasonable!"
George suddenly lunged at the man gripping his collar in his fist and bringing the mans face into his own.
"She is my sister! My baby sister! Not some beast to toss aside when inconvenient!" He snarled into the doctors face.
Darcy took one arm even as Mr Bennet seemed to come out of nowhere and took the other, and between them they pulled the man away, though the fire in his eyes still blazed in anger.
"Dr Jones, I believe you have your answer. I am aware the circumstances are not ideal, however I am sure such operations have been performed in much worse conditions. I have brought with me my daughter, and also Miss Charlotte Lucas, in case they might assist you as required."
Mr Bennets words were spoken in his usual unperturbed manner, yet there there was something in his face that indicated the subject was now closed.
Darcy's face snapped up immediately, as though wishing to assure himself the gentleman's words were untrue. But alas, stood just out of hearing were the two young ladies Mr Bennet had spoken of.
"Mr Bennet! You cannot be serious! The surgeons table is no place for a young lady! Surely you would not subject them to such a thing! It is completely unacceptable!"
The old man seemed unaware however, of the impropriety of the position he placed his daughter in, and simply smiled lightly in amusement.
"My Lizzy is no wilting flower I assure you, Mr Smith. Nor Miss Lucas either."
"But Sir! You cannot mean to..."
Any further comment Darcy may have made however, was cut off as the smile disappeared from Mr Bennets face, and he drew a hand up before Darcy sharply to silence him.
"My Daughter is quite capable of dealing with the situation, Mr Smith," He said sharply, stressing Darcys taken name strongly in reminder, "and I am quite sure that it is my place, not that of my estate manager, to make that decision."
The two men stared coldly into one another's eyes for several long moments before Darcy forced himself to look away. Whilst still angry at the position in which Mr Bennet would willingly place Elizabeth, he could not deny that it was not his place as the lowly Mr Smith to argue the point.
Darcy turned away angrily, attempting to smother his emotions so at least they were not apparent to all. As his anger cooled, so too did his body, as the chilly evening breeze reminded him sharply he had stripped his shirt for bandages, never once thinking to be encountered by a lady under such circumstances. Abruptly, he turned to the young man and enquired as to where he might find a shirt.
Having pulled on a rough linen shirt, Darcy made his way back toward the injured girl, only to find her cradled gently in her brothers arms as he bore her upstairs. Dr Jones spotted him, and requested that he assist the women in preparing pails of hot water and other items that would be required.
Having agreed, Darcy made his way toward the kitchen where he found Miss Elizabeth heaping coals to boil water, whilst Miss Lucas tore sheets into strips.
"Miss Lucas, Miss Elizabeth." Darcy acknowledged, tipping his head in the direction of each. "Dr Jones sent me to assist, where can I be of best assistance?"
Elizabeth pushed several errant strands of hair out of her face with the back of one coal darkened hand before pointing toward two large pots alongside the fire.
"Thank you Mr Smith, if you would be able to find some water to fill these pots here, we can boil the water for Dr Jones. I think we can get a good two pails from each."
Darcy nodded, then lifting the two pots, went in search of clean water.
It seemed to take forever to get the water boiled, but all too soon, Darcy found himself ascending the stairs carrying two pails of steaming water, while Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas followed behind with trays of new bandages and assorted other items the Doctor and Surgeon had requested.
At the door Darcy quietly knocked twice, before turning to Miss Elizabeth.
"I will take in the water then return for the other items also." Darcy stated, eager to ensure that neither young woman be faced with the grizzly scene no doubt unfolding within.
"It will be quicker to follow straight in after you Sir!" Elizabeth exclaimed, indignation tinting her cheeks a delicate rosy hue.
Darcy's lips drew into a thin line of irritation. "I would prefer you two ladies not to enter Ma'am, it is no place for a lady such as yourself."
Elizabeth drew herself to her full height, her eyes ablaze with fury. "Neither Miss Lucas nor myself are some sort of delicate debutante Sir, and as we were requested to be present I do not think that is your call to make!"
"Miss Elizabeth please! Consider your position!" Darcy seethed through clenched teeth, his anger resurfacing hotly in his exhaustion, but Elizabeth made no attempt to stand down.
Miss Lucas reached out to touch Lizzy's arm in a quieting gesture, "Lizzy,of course we will assist if required, but Mr Smith is right, it is not an appropriate place for a lady of our position to..."
"Appropriate! Appropriate to who Charlotte? We are hardly in vast company, yet our childhood friend lays at deaths door! Forgive me if I do not think the standard rules of society apply!" Elizabeth exclaimed fervently.
Anything further that might have been said on the matter however, was instantly forgotten, as almost at once the door behind them was wrenched open, and a cacophony of noise erupted suddenly from the room within.
Dr Jones hastened Darcy in with the hot water, where he placed it down as directed. On a table in the middle of the room lay the prone form of the young girl Darcy had earlier pulled from the fire. Now stripped down to a thin white chemise, her skin was as white as the sheet she lay on, her lips forming a thin blue line, as dark black lashes fanned out in stark contrast against pallid skin. Barely several feet away Mr Bennet was scarcely managing to restrain the girls brother, who having watched the surgeon lay out his tools had apparently reverted back to his earlier panic and was crying out repeatedly, attempting to wrench himself free of Mr Bennets grasp. At the foot of the table, the surgeon stood alongside an array of instruments, knives and saws each more disturbing than the last laid out in a perfect row, his face awash in concern at the brothers state.
Dr Jones ordered the two women into the room, instructing them where to place their loads before barking harshly at Darcy,
"Get that blasted man out of here! If she comes around with him in such a state... Just get him out!"
Instantly Darcy headed across to George, and taking one arm whilst Mr Bennet took the other they hauled him from the room.
Once downstairs, they maneuvered him to the front door, where Mr Bennet, released him, instructed Darcy,
"Get the boy away from here, goodness knows he'll be of no use in this condition!"
With one arm free, George wrestled against Darcy furiously, managing to rain down several blows in his attempt to free himself, still uttering nonsense constantly. Finally, the days emotions and exhaustion getting the better of him, Darcy pulled his arm back and delivered one powerful blow to the mans Jaw, sending him careening backwards off the porch to land squirming on his back in the dirt.
"About time someone did that, wait here a minute." Muttered Mr Bennet, before ambling off inside the house.
After several moments, George stopped kicking about and instead curled onto his side, giving in to stomach wrenching sobs that whilst silent, shook his entire body violently.
Finally, Mr Bennet returned with a glass bottle in hand. His face was awash in pity as he handed the bottle to Darcy.
"Not the best I'm afraid but it will have to do. Get him far enough away that should Carry awaken during the procedure he won't be able to hear."
"Yes Sir." Darcy replied, as the old man turned and ambled unsteadily on tired legs back up the stairs.