A/N:
I know, I know. I offer no excuses, but instead a peace offering in the form of this chapter. I hope you haven't given up on this story, because as I promised before, I really will finish In Pursuit of Elizabeth Bennet. We are so near!
I'd also like to say thanks to those who sent me encouraging and suppotive messages, you guys are the best! I hope this chapter does not disappoint! Please review and follow. And as I haven't had the chance yet to greet you: Happy New Year, everyone! :D
PS, Baby says hi! ;D
Chapter 22 : Against the Current
"Darcy!"
Colonel Fitzwilliam was too late. With terror in his heart, did he see his cousin and Miss Elizabeth Bennet disappear over the edge of the Meryton bridge. Riding even faster, he aimed his pistol, the fear that turned his blood cold gave him uncommon focus, and fired. He heard his target scream, saw her collapse to the ground. Before his steed had even completely stopped, the colonel dismounted and was running towards the parapet of the bridge. He looked quickly to acertain that Mrs. Younge stayed a motionless, crumpled heap on the floor of the bridge. Satisfied, he quickly leaned out towards the river.
"They missed the boulders, thank God!" He breathed. "Do you see them?" He urgently asked Corwin, who had just as quickly looked at the other side. It was a fifteen-yard drop, with boulders scattered about. Thick foliage from the trees lining the riverbank obscured the view further on.
"No, sir, the current has carried them, `tis very strong." Colonel Fitzwilliam read the silent message in that last line.
"Help us, I beg of you!" Jane cried out. Frantically, she gestured with bloodied hands at Bingley, then turned her head to the river. "My sister, Mr. Darcy!"
"Jane." Bingley raised his hand to touch her tear-stained face.
"Good God! Bingley!" The colonel exclaimed.
"Colonel!" Corwin called out, his gaze directed at the other man who lay unconscious on the floor of the bridge. Blood pooled beneath George Wickham.
They had witnessed what he did. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood, not knowing how to feel towards this man, shaking himself, he called to Corwin. He must not lose anymore time! He spoke to his man even as the colonel hastily climbed onto Caspian again. "Help them, all of them!" He said with great urgency, then rode down towards the riverside.
Corwin hurried to the carriage taking stock of the two injured servants. Bingley's face was ashen, but he was trying to talk to Jane. He looked at her blood soaked skirts, she had gathered her petticoat and used it to cover Bingley's wound, her hand pressing down.
"My name is Corwin, Miss." He tried to keep his voice calm. "I work for that there Colonel Fitzwilliam, he is Mr. Darcy's cousin. Where is the nearest place to ask for help?"
Jane controlled her sobbing. "The rectory is down this road, merely two miles."
Corwin looked up then as he heard the approach of horses, he raised his arms up in the air.
"You there!" Mr. Soames shouted.
"These men need help!" Corwin replied urgently.
"Mr. Adley! Mr. Soames!" Jane cried, her voice appealing for aid as she recognized the party they brought with them.
Colonel Fitzwilliam rode trying to match the current. He had fought wars, fought in conditions he cared not ever recall again. Fought with his men, his comrades, with supreme bravery, and he had lost many of them. But it was at that moment that his nerve almost left him. Perhaps it was truly different when one was threatened with the loss of a loved one. Darcy and he might, in truth, be cousins, but both men knew that they were brothers. Indeed Darcy was more of a brother to him than his own.
"Come, man." He whispered fiercely, "You have so much that awaits you!" He pulled Caspian to a stop and moved closer to the riverbank. "Darcy! Miss Elizabeth!" The colonel called out, but all in vain. He galloped forward, scanning the rough waters for any sign of them. His hands shook, for nowhere could he perceive his cousin, nor his betrothed. Moving down, the river divided into two. He paused, then chose the branch with rougher waters. He could see the current lessen in its force some distance away where rocks and boulders stood in one side of the river, hope shot across his chest.
"They must be there, they must!" Pulling on Caspian's reins, Colonel Fitzwilliam rode hard.
Elizabeth was losing consciousness. It felt as if she was suspended in a void. A darkness slowly wrapped around her, was it comfort it afforded? She was vaguely aware of her hand loosening its hold on Darcy, felt with her fingertips as he slid away from her. Silence. Down here it was so silent. She would just close her eyes and rest for a moment.
No. It did not feel right, no. Her chest tightened. A shock reverberated across her body so violently that it shook her, pulling her back from her state of semi-consciousness. Her eyes flew open, she was half-way to sinking in waters that were surprisingly calmer beneath than when she first involuntarily entered them. Her mind reeled, her lungs ached for air.
William!
Kicking hard, she broke the surface of the river, coughing and gasping for breath. On the surface, the current was rough, pushing her down and forward with it. She fought it with all her might, scanning wildly for any sign of Darcy. Taking a deep breath, she dove underwater again, blinking to clear her eyes. Where was he? Her heart pounded, urgency coursed through her entire being, she must find him! She surfaced again, this time she moved with the current. At the back of her mind, Elizabeth thanked her childhood forays into the river that ran across Longbourn, her mother had been furious when she had learned that she and her sisters had spent almost an entire summer in such an occupation. The currents were not as strong as this, but that experience had given them sufficient skill to swim in rushing waters.
"William!" She cried out, but the roar of the river swallowed her call. "Fitzwilliam!"
Tears stung her eyes, dread was a bitter taste in her mouth. Just as her mind started to picture the worst, a flash of blue caught her eye, Darcy had been wearing a blue coat. Elizabeth saw him some distance away as he was caught between two boulders jutting out from the river. With a burst of adrenaline, Elizabeth tore across the water, angling her strokes to reach her beloved. In this part of the river more boulders rose out from the water, thankfully slowing down the current. As she reached Darcy, she cried out in relief to see his face above water. The manner in which he was caught allowed for Darcy to stay upright. But her relief faded as soon as she realized that he was unconscious, blood flowed from the side of his head.
"William!" Elizabeth cried, she touched his face with one hand, with the other she clung to the boulder. "Wake up, Fitzwilliam!" Darcy remained unmoving, she pulled at him, forcing him free from where he was caught. When Darcy came away, his weight instantly pulled him down, Elizabeth gasped and sank down to grab him. Wrapping her arm around his chest, she kicked at the water with all her might, struggling to stay afloat. She searched the riverbank and saw that in one area was a shallow incline which sloped up to a grassy plain. It was indeed fortunate that the same scattering of boulders that caught Darcy also calmed the waters somewhat. With flagging strength, did Elizabeth swim towards the riverbank, vigilantly trying to keep Darcy's head above water. Numerous times had his much bigger frame threatened to drag them both down. Elizabeth's grip on her beloved would not falter, would never falter, she vowed that if he went under so would she. Just as she felt she could swim no further, fight the current no longer, did her feet touch the bottom of the river. Relief so great gave her the last burst of strength she needed to drag Darcy up to the bank. Gasping for breath, she turned to him.
Elizabeth shook him hard. "Fitzwilliam! Wake up!" When Darcy remained still, she shook him again, harder this time. "You must wake up!" Elizabeth cried, fear clawing at her, making her blind to everything save for her beloved's form, unmoving and white even under the glare of the sun. Blood still flowed from the wound in his head, her fingers moved urgently over his face. She looked about wildly, half standing, arms flailing helplessly. A great sob escaped her, she kneeled beside her beloved, took his limp hand in hers. "William, listen to me, listen to your Elizabeth!" The words she uttered were barely comprehensible.
"Miss Elizabeth!"
Whirling around, Elizabeth saw Colonel Fitzwilliam across the river. He tried looking for a way to get across. But in vain did he direct his mount, for the current in that side of the river was the strongest, its white water broken by no boulders.
"Colonel!" Elizabeth cried out. "Help, please!"
When the colonel first saw Darcy and Elizabeth from afar, a great relief had settled on his shoulders. They had made it. But just as soon as that, he realized that something was very wrong. Elizabeth's movements were frantic, and his cousin was very still. Nearing them, he had called out to Elizabeth. As she turned, Darcy's prone form came into view, dread filled Colonel Fitzwilliam rendering him frozen.
"Colonel, please!"
Elizabeth's desperate tone shook him to his senses. He called out from where he stood. "Is he breathing?"
"No!"
"Damnation." The colonel closed his eyes. "Miss Elizabeth, I can not get across here, I will ride further on and look for a crossing. But you must listen, you must do precisely as I say!"
It was as if she were in a terrible dream. Elizabeth's whole body trembled, she lifted her chin and nodded at the Colonel, fighting her deepest fears.
"You must blow air into his mouth, breathe in air into him using your mouth. Pinch his nose closed, then blow! Quickly now!" Elizabeth dropped to Darcy's side, and did as the Colonel said. "Do it repeatedly, I will find a way there!"
Elizabeth's heart pounded, she replayed the Colonel's instructions in her mind even as she did what he instructed. Her mouth covered her beloved's, giving breath to his still form, again and again she blew. She could feel his chest rise with the air she supplied, but Darcy remained unconscious. Desparation made her cry out. If I could breathe life into you, my love, I would gladly give you my own. She prayed when her efforts yielded nothing. Remembering that night which seemed so long ago now, that night when she had nearly given him up thinking it was for his own protection, Elizabeth's heart recalled how Darcy had forced his way back to her room, back to her. It is you, or a life alone. Darcy had said with every emotion in his eyes, every feeling in his voice. Do not leave me now, my love. Her mind brought visions of the future that was promised them, a family, a vow of forever. Of visions that now tore her into shreds.
"I do not want it, I do not want any of it, not without you." Elizabeth sobbed, her face pressed to Darcy's chest. "William." She whispered. "You can not leave me."
An anger so great suddenly entered Elizabeth. Anger at Darcy, at life, at her ineptitude to control her own fate. She pulled at her hair.. Elizabeth felt the inequity of the hand that life was dealing her now.
"No!" Elizabeth raged. Her hands, balled into fists, went down hard on his chest. "You can not leave me, William!" With eyes blinded by grief, she beat at his chest. "I love you." She whispered, weakening.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, heaved himself up into the bank, he moved quickly. Leaving his horse behind, he had swum across a part of the river that had shown a weakening of the current. The crossing, however, was still one that taxed even a strong man. Now on the ground, he ran. The colonel prayed that Miss Elizabeth was able to revive his cousin.
The Royal Humane Society had published medically-approved instructions for the revival of drowned people, being an army officer, the colonel had been one amongst those who had received these instructions. And indeed, had this knowledge helped save the life of more than one in his regiment.
He saw them then, Elizabeth crouched over Darcy, beating at his chest. The colonel grew cold. He could see the despair in the way her shoulders finally slumped, then in the way one arm raised, her fist landing on his cousin's chest for one last time. "No." He whispered.
It was as if the world went still, as if the river stopped flowing and Elizabeth's heart stopped beating. What now? Nothing. Her mind echoed, nothing. She wanted to melt into the earth until she scattered into miniscule pieces that felt nothing, left nothing behind. For without Darcy what was there to live for? She looked to the river, would that the river had claimed her instead for she could not go on after this.
Elizabeth was lost to everything, her eyes and ears blind and deaf to the world that she did not feel the abrupt movement beside her.
Darcy heard his name. It seemed from far away, but he heard it.
Elizabeth!
She needed him! He must go to her. His body willed itself to wake up, but it was as if he pulled himself from a very deep sleep, as if he had been gone for a hundred years. Now! his body commanded, Now!
He jolted awake, his lungs expelling water, it was pain and relief all at once. Repeatedly did the spasms shake him until he could finally take deep breaths. With his eyes closed, he rolled weakly to his side, instinctively clenching at his neck. "Elizabeth." Darcy tried to say.
"Darcy!"
He opened his eyes and saw his cousin rushing to him with pure relief on his countenance.
It was the colonel's exclamation that pulled Elizabeth from her stupor. She turned away from the river and saw Darcy. Saw him with eyes that changed from dark pools of despair to the brightest of sunrises. She leaped at him, nearly covering his weakened body with hers. She cried with all her heart, joy and relief etched on every feature of her face. "Fitzwilliam! Fitzwilliam, William." She repeated his name like a chant, as if to stop would mean to go back to that terrible dream.
Darcy tried to talk, tried to tell her how much he loved her, but his voice came out in hoarse whispers. Elizabeth nodded, weeping, completely understanding what he wanted to express. He cupped her face with his hands, searching to see if she was hurt in anyway.
"I am alright, William." She smiled at him tearily.
When Colonel Fitzwilliam reached them, he gently pulled a sobbing Elizabeth away from Darcy, speaking to her softly to let him check Darcy for any other injuries. Aside from the wound on the side of his head, there were no other obvious ones.
"You must have hit your head on a boulder upon your fall, and that blow rendered you unconscious." Darcy gingerly touched the side of his head, pain exploded where his fingers landed, making him wince in pain.
Elizabeth gently pushed his hands away. She inspected the wound, glad to note that the bleeding was starting to subside.
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head, finally smiling at Darcy. "You have always been a lucky bastard." He said, still smiling despite feeling shaken from the ordeal that had just passed.
Darcy smiled weakly back at him, then indicated for the colonel to help him sit up. Suddenly alarmed, he tried to stand up. "Bingley, my men, Mrs. Younge?" His voice cracked.
"Calm yourself, cousin." The colonel assured Darcy. "She was taken down. And Corwin has attended to Bingley and the others. I have yet to know how they are faring, but Bingley was conscious before I left them."
A cloud passed over Darcy's eyes. "And George?" He whispered, more to himself.
"I can not be sure, it looked grave when I left him."
Darcy nodded, emotions warred in his heart. Wickham took the bullet for him, the George Wickham of his childhood.
"I will go back on foot and ask for assistance. Caspian is on the other side, I dare not cross this part of the river." Colonel Fitzwilliam addressed Elizabeth then. "Very well done, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth who had moved back to Darcy, looked at the colonel with gratitude. "Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam." She could not help the tremor in her voice. "I do not know what I would have done if—if—" her voice trailed of.
"It was you who saved Darcy." With a grin the colonel added, "Never allow him forget that!"
Darcy's hands sought Elizabeth's. His body ached, but his eyes shone, and they told her what his voice could not; that there was no end to what they had together, that there was no forsaking their love for each other.
She cradled him in her arms, ran her hands down his body, as if assuring herself that Darcy was indeed there with her. The rising of his chest, the beating of his heart, the grip of his hands on hers, weak as they were, were the assurance, the promise, that Elizabeth was desperate for. She whispered her love in his ears, whispered that she would never let him go.
Somehow they knew that all would be well. Fate was on their side. They hardly heard the colonel leave.
A/N:
The Royal Humane Society was founded in England in 1774 as the Society for the Recovery of Persons Apparently Drowned, for the purpose of rendering first aid in cases of near drowning. The British Regiment may or may not have had training in this, but for this story at least, they did.