Chapter 24

Before the footman, who stood opposite the open door across the entrance hall could react, the vase ascended on Darcy's head with astonishing force, his vision blurred and then he passed out. What happened after that, he could not possibly say, but at least Miss Bingley had been removed from the vicinity when he woke up again. With the headache he now had, that was something to be thankful for, for he doubted she would have the courtesy to hold her tongue and keep quiet, and her voice, at any rate, was irritating enough without him feeling dizzy, in pain and slightly nauseous. The footman and the butler had propped him up on the uncomfortable sofa in the parlour and he had hardly come around, his vision still slightly blurry, when Dr Hamilton stepped into the room, shaking his head in some benign bemusement.

"You seem to have a knack for getting into scrapes of that sort, it seems, Mr Darcy," he greeted, putting down his satchel. "What is it about you getting hurt? Have you taken a fancy to pain?"

Quite honestly, Darcy was immensely thankful for the doctor's jesting instead of being faced with undue concern. He had never liked when people fussed over him and as a child that had been fairly often, for there had not been a single childhood's disease he had not had, be it measles, mumps or chickenpox along with all the runny noses, bruised fingers and twisted ankles that also came with being a lively boy growing up in the country. Being the heir, and for many years the only child, every time he had fallen ill had been met with a dread beyond any reason, which in general had led to an atmosphere around the house that was nothing short of befitting for a funeral. Getting better under such circumstances had been a challenge, to say the least.

No, this was the much better approach and he replied accordingly: "Ah well, Hamilton, the line between pleasure and pain is but a thin one."

The young man's eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise, but then on seeing Darcy's face, he started laughing.

"Seeing that you are able to joke about your injuries, I would say it is not too serious. So, let me have a look then."

Darcy, with little choice, for as soon as he raised his head felt almost overwhelmed by nausea, let him be.

"Just as I have thought, you have suffered a concussion, and that gash needs stitching. I hope your business is not too pressing, for I fear I must insist on your staying in bed for at least a couple of days."

"My business?" Darcy stuttered confused at first, before he remembered that he had planned to go to Hertfordshire that day to warn the Bennets about Mrs Younge – and ask for Mr Bennet's consent to marry his daughter. "It is pressing, I fear. I do not know what dreadful results a delay might bring."

"Then, perhaps, you should send for your solicitor to step in," Dr Hamilton replied determinedly. "You need to keep your head down, preferably in a darkened room, and rest."

"But..."

"No 'but', Mr Darcy. You have only just recovered from a severe fever and a festering wound, so I will not have any opposition in that regard. Think of your sister. She needs you. You have to rest. So, and for now, lean back so I can stitch you up."

Blast that man! He straight away had brought up the one and only point that was able to stop him from getting up and walk out of the door despite his discomfort. But he needed to do something – or at least inform Elizabeth about his mishap and the delay of his plans.

With gritted teeth he let the doctor work, refusing to take anything to numb his pain, and Dr Hamilton was done soon enough anyway.

Rather grudgingly he let his valet bring him upstairs to his chamber, help him out of his clothes and put him into bed.

Had Caroline Bingley been within reach at that very moment, he surely would have throttled her for causing this deferment of his plans. What had that woman been thinking? That knocking him out would entice him to marry her instead of Elizabeth? Well, perhaps he had been a bit insensitive when giving her the news of his betrothal, but then again, he had always made it very clear to her, that he had no interest in her whatsoever. How she could still hold on to such a foolish fancy, made him wonder about her having any sense at all. It was all very vexing!

Despite his anger, he had fallen asleep quite quickly and when he woke up two things he noticed almost imediately: it was getting dark, and he was not alone in his room anymore.

Turning his head slightly his breath caught, and he had to blink twice before he could be sure that he was not dreaming. There, on the small settee in front of the fireplace, the two ladies who held his heart sat comfortably together, one reading, the other drawing, using the still form of the other as a model. As silently as he could he tried to shift to see them even better, but the room, not his own bedroom, he noticed, but one to the back of the house, was so very quiet, where the noise of the traffic was nothing but a muffled rumble, both Elizabeth and Georgiana looked up at the sound of the slight rustle from his sheets.

As both ladies now glanced at him, both sporting a similar expression of relief, he tried to explain the situation as best as he could, but soon found that either of them was already better informed than he was.

"Dr Hamilton gave me instructions for your care as soon as I returned downstairs again. I sent for him immediately as soon as I saw you were injured. The footman already took care of you, and I thought it better to take care of Miss Bingley first, as neither the butler nor any other of the staff knew what to do with her, for she would not stop raging. - Which leads me to the question as to what to do with her now?" Georgiana said softly, though speaking of Miss Bingley clearly made her angry. "I have, of course, sent an express to her brother, and since the morning she has calmed down considerably. But though she currently is safely out of the way, I am greatly tempted to have her brought to Bedlam."

"Where is she?" Darcy inquired, reaching for a glass of water on his nightstand and was promptly aided by Elizabeth.

"Upstairs in the nursery. Locked in. It was the only place I could think of, and it is built to withstand tamper tantrums, is it not?"