Chapter Eleven
When Fitzwilliam opened his eyes, a searing pain engulfed his side.
He let out a moan when a hand rested on his shoulder as a feminine voice soothed.
"Don't worry, Mr. Darcy. The doctor will be here to examine you for after he's finished with your butler."
What? Fitzwilliam's brain asked.
He tried to remember what happened as he settled down. The feminine voice was warm and he felt as if his mother were beside him. Or even better: he imagined Our Blessed Mother was there and he always basked in her presence. Closing his eyes, he thought he heard more voices.
"The two took that car impact badly. He's been injured and the butler can't seem to steady himself either. Will he be finished so Mr. Darcy can be seen?"
"Yes. He's in the other room but I have good news."
"Yes?"
"He's recovering but I'm afraid it's Mr. Darcy who is needs more of attention than the butler. Do you know his name?"
"Albert General. I know him because one of my sisters' is a maid for the Darcys."
"Emma?" The voice of the other woman spoke.
Fitzwilliam figured these were feminine voices and he could smell the fragrance of what seemed to be that of a hospital. Then he remembered and his eyes shot open.
"We were in a car crash!" he exclaimed aloud and he tried to sit up but felt the same pain sear across his forehead. He groaned and a pair of soft hands touched his shoulders, easing him down as the voice spoke.
"Again, Mr. Darcy… do your best not to be too excited. You took a very bad blow to the head when the men pulled you out of the car."
As he settled back on the bed, which Fitzwilliam felt, he heard the woman ask.
"Are you well enough to try some water, sir?"
Shaking his head, Fitzwilliam replied no as he closed his eyes. His memory slowly returned when he recalled the driver from behind, hitting their car from the back, and then how those two other cars appeared and slammed both sides of their car. He found it hard to believe he remembered all of that but he also experienced a little blur to his vision. When he opened his eyes, he blinked to clear it away. When he swallowed, Fitzwilliam remembered his two boys' at Transfiguration School and he tried to speak.
"Excuse me?" He asked as he turned and blinked.
One of the nurses, who probably was the one who helped him, was reading some of the notes from the accident when she glanced and walked over to him.
"Yes, sir?" she asked and her voice was so soothing.
Fitzwilliam answered to his surprise.
"I am a father of two sons' and they're at Transfiguration School and they don't know I'm here. I also have a fiancé who's back at the Darcy manor and she was supposed to be examined by the doctor who's the finest. But I don't have any means to inform them what's happened to me and I told her I would be back by 9 or close to 10. What time is it now?"
"Eleven, sir."
Fitzwilliam blinked and he slowly exhaled. What would Lizzy say about his absence when he knew he'd told her he would back? It was here the pain in his head decreased when he felt strength return to him as he asked.
"When will it be possible for me to leave? I need tell my staff as well as my sons' and fiancé what happened and where I am."
"We'll do that as soon as the doctor enters and examines you, Mr. Darcy. He's almost finished with your butler."
"Thank you." Fitzwilliam replied and he turned and stared at the ceiling.
The nurse soon left and Fitzwilliam found himself alone. He started to pray that all would be well as he waited for the doctor to appear. Felt more to him that he was taking eternity because as the time progressed, all Fitzwilliam could think about was the unsettling idea Lizzy was worried about him; wondering where he was and what might have happened. But he knew that if didn't keep a calm composure, events would never play out or even he wouldn't get out of there if he didn't pray and keep his peace. The hospital he was in was familiar and he knew it finely. Fitzwilliam remembered Rachel wishing to have her children there but Fitzwilliam expressed his desire they be born at home and Rachel, though reluctantly, agreed and both his sons' were born at the Darcy Mansion. He could hear the footsteps of the staff moving to and fro from the door as they busied themselves with their duties for the patients. Fitzwilliam folded his arms across his chest when he thought.
"And to think I'm one of them but they don't bother to really take notice of one who's been in a car crash and is remembering what happened."
Was he pouting? Well… one couldn't blame him. Instead, Fitzwilliam thought about the blow to the head he'd received during the crash. Raising his hand, he touched the bandage and he flinched a bit. He didn't have a mirror or something to stare at so he waited for the doctor to enter and speak to him about what the injury was and how it would be mended and such. Lowering his hand, he was about to call if someone would hear him when the door opened and a voice spoke.
"Well… here's the famous Mr. Darcy of the Darcy manor of New York."
Turning, Fitzwilliam blinked when a tall gentleman, with silver-gray hair, or perhaps he was wearing a wig, wearing a doctor's uniform, entered and behind him was the kindly nurse who'd spoken with him earlier. The doctor was one he knew and as the nurse made her way to the side, Fitzwilliam greeted.
"Hello, Doctor Drosselmier. Seems we meet again."
"You don't sound very energetic about seeing me, son." Doctor Drosselmier replied as he rolled his sleeves up. Fitzwilliam settled back into the cushions and he felt more like a boy with his elderly father as he replied.
"No. Not since Rachel's passing."
"That was a condition which we didn't detect sooner, Mr. Darcy." Drosselmier answered and Fitzwilliam felt the man prepare to examine the wound on his head. Fitzwilliam kept his eyes focused forward when the nurse held something out for the doctor to use to cut the bandage. A pair of scissors and Fitzwilliam only prepared himself for the cut.
It came sooner than he could count to three.
Fitzwilliam could hear the clipping sound as Doctor Drosselmier cut away at the bandage which held the wound on his head. Remembering how he'd slammed against the dashboard, Fitzwilliam kept his mouth shut when the man spoke.
"Well, Mr. Darcy, on a separate subject, based on the injury you received, this one won't take a few days to heal. Thank goodness you were able to walk out of it fine but when the men brought you in, you were unconscious and when we tried to ask you some questions, you mumbled a few sentences which we only figured was a result of a concussion. Your butler, Albert, suffered some broken ribs and since we can't fix them through surgery, he's going to have to take it easy until he's recovered. Ribs can heal by themselves but not without proper mobility."
"He's what?" Fitzwilliam asked as the last of the covering was removed. He felt the pain decrease a little as the nurse placed something warm but when this happened, Fitzwilliam flinched again and made a hissing sound.
"Indeed, Mr. Darcy. That wound sure did its job." Doctor Drosselmier answered.
As the nurse pressed a little harder on the wound, Fitzwilliam kept his pain in when Drosselmier continued.
"And he's suffering from a concussion. Normally, patients would need to recover from 14 days to three months. In your case, Mr. Darcy, we're going to have to send you home and like Albert: both of you will need to take things slow to fully recover. Otherwise: the only option left is to stay here where we can keep you observed to maintain a fully recovery."
"And what about the blow to the jaw, sir?" the nurse asked as she took the cloth from Fitzwilliam's head. For once: he was thankful that wicked cloth wasn't on his wound. But a concussion?
He felt more like a toy being mended or at least like a wooden doll when Doctor Drosselmier answered.
"The jaw isn't that bad but Mr. Darcy needs to have some ice on it."
"And plenty of time to recover. Concussions aren't grand but Mr. Darcy?" the nurse asked and Fitzwilliam turned and eyed the woman. He wasn't enjoying hearing of his circumstance and the way Doctor Drosselmier was speaking, sounded more as if he were to be bedridden for the majority of the time until he was well enough to resume his duties. Fitzwilliam looked into the woman's eyes, which were kindly and gentle, as he asked.
"Yes?"
"I did as you asked and word is being sent to your sons' that their father is here. Albert is in the other room and he's healing finely. But some of the hospital staff members went immediately and contacted the school via telegraph. Transfiguration School informed us they would send word to your boys' as soon as possible."
"And what of my fiancé?" Fitzwilliam asked as he struggled to sit up.
The nurse gently shook her head and Doctor Drosselmier nodded as he walked over and stared at his notes about Fitzwilliam. As he mumbled to himself, Fitzwilliam heard the nurse reply.
"And the same applied for your fiancé, Mr. Darcy. She received the same message and it arrived not too long ago."
"Blessings of telegraphs rather than those Roman runners." Doctor Drosselmier replied and both Fitzwilliam and the nurse turned his way. The silver gray haired gentleman held the clipboard eye level and narrowed his eyes. Fitzwilliam thought he appeared more like a toymaker rather than a doctor as he spoke on.
"And Mr. Darcy is blessed to be one of those men who can afford such a device for messages. I should know because I helped his first wife deliver her last son."
"Well… that's a reminder I don't wish to reflect upon." Fitzwilliam spoke aloud and instantly, the nurse beside him stiffened. Fitzwilliam was a bit protective over his late wife but he also found it agreeable about her. Mentioned above Fitzwilliam was challenged enough by the fact he'd made a mistake marrying Rachael but worse when she resented the Catholic Faith and didn't attend Mass with him. Only on his insistence would she go but most of the time: Rachel never went. And grievously – Fitzwilliam watched as William followed in her footsteps.
"And that was a mistake I regretted for the majority of my marriage." Fitzwilliam thought as Doctor Drosselmier cleared his throat and waited for a moment for his audience to listen to him. When both of them had his attention, Doctor Drosselmier explained.
"Mr. Darcy? Seeing you've suffered a head injury, along with a concussion and a jaw fracture, which I will look into later, I'm going to send your butler home while you remain here at the hospital so I can further examine the jaw. One of the surgeons for this kind of fracture is not here so I'm the one the hospital needs to be on call if something should take place. We're thankful Transfiguration School as well as your household staff received your message but we're also informed them about your condition. The jaw needs to be either held in place until May because that's when the surgeon will be here to decide on surgery or leaving it permanently."
Fitzwilliam blinked and he couldn't believe his ears! He was supposed to stay at the hospital (overnight) until Doctor Drosselmier would further examine him? Wasn't it bad enough hearing he was suffering from a concussion and head injury? But a fractured jaw?
"Is that the reason why I sound… a little… peculiar?" Fitzwilliam asked and when Doctor Drosselmier nodded, Fitzwilliam felt the side of his mouth sear with some pain. He let out a slight moan and the nurse walked over and when she returned, she spoke.
"Mr. Darcy? You're going to have to have some anesthesia to numb the pain a bit. The fractured jaw isn't gorgeous and we need to take you to another room where the doctor will place a pad to hold the jaw until the surgeon arrives."
The pain in his head increased suddenly and Fitzwilliam fell against the covers. Or pillow. He couldn't remember when the door to the room opened and voices were heard.
"Alright, Doctor. The room's ready and this won't take but a moment."
"Yes, sir. The butler's fine and already prepared to return. But Mr. Darcy?"
"I'm afraid not. He's going to have to have that pad wrapped around that jaw because of how the impact of the accident. I've already sent word to his sons' and fiancé about what happened and how long he's going to be staying here."
"For how long?"
As he felt the bed move, Fitzwilliam's last sentence he heard from Doctor Drosselmier was.
"Two nights."