When at last the three reached Pemberley, it was no surprise that there was some astonishment in the expressions of his servants.
Darcy was quick to issue orders in order to keep the two girls from feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Yes, they looked thoroughly wretched, but they did not need to be made to feel worse by the improper behavior of his help. Mrs. Reynolds, wife to his butler and longtime housekeeper, was tasked with taking Elizabeth and Maria to the bathing room to freshen up.
"Send a maid to my sister, I am sure she will have something Miss Bennet can wear," he told the lady. "As to Miss Lucas, I am certain you will find her something clean and comfortable for after her bath."
Mrs. Reynolds had nodded firmly, though her smile was gentle and her gaze kind as she prompted the two girls to walk with her. Darcy encouraged them to go along, assuring them in soft words that they would be just fine with Mrs. Reynolds watching over them, and reminded them he would be writing letters to send express to their families.
He then turned to Reynolds and ordered him to dispatch a footman to Lambton for Dr. Jones. "Tell him also to have a groom prepare Hermes for riding. Then find Vincent and tell him to pack a bag for himself with two days' worth of clothing, and tell him to be quick about it. He's to come to my study when he's finished. And Reynolds, have the doctor brought first to my study when he arrives."
Reynolds, who knew of his involvement in the search for the missing women, did not question his ordering his second fastest road horse to be saddled. The butler nodded briskly and walked away at a quick pace. Darcy hurried to his study to see to his own task. He had paper before him and a quill in hand—intending to address the first to Mr. Gardiner, as he was closer to Elizabeth's uncle than he was to either girl's father—before he suddenly paused, utterly unable to fathom how one would even begin such a letter.
Drawing a breath, he exhaled it slowly and started to write.
Pemberley, 1 May 1813
Edward,
I have found them! Or rather, they found me…
Darcy detailed Kline's account of the broken window at the cabin and his going there to investigate. He wrote of his astonishment at finding Elizabeth and Maria, gave what details he had of their escape, and assured him that by the time the letter reached him, they would both be seen by a doctor.
I shall not go into explicit detail as to what they told me of their captivity—which in truth was very little—as such horrors should not be put to paper. You will learn soon enough the full story, I am sure, when you come.
If they should choose to reveal any of it.
Darcy then recalled with sudden clarity that since the girls' disappearance, Gardiner had taken to visiting his sister's family on the weekends, rooming with Charles and Jane at Netherfield so as not to burden the Bennets. His wife and children were often with him. He was relieved to realize he need only write one letter, as Gardiner could deliver the wonderful news to the other gentlemen.
I leave it to you to share the joyous news of the girls' recovery with Mr. Bennet and Sir William. You might all perhaps come to Pemberley together, and though I am certain that Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas wish to see their mothers, given the latter's aptitude for histrionics I beg you will forgive my recommending leaving Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas at home and bringing with you only Mrs. Gardiner. Believe me, sir, calmness and gentle care is what Elizabeth and Maria need most right now.
After signing the letter, he folded and sealed it before adding Mr. Gardiner's name and Netherfield's address to the front. Vincent had quietly entered the study as he was applying the wax seal. Darcy reached into a drawer of his desk for a pouch of money he kept there for emergencies such as this, then stood and crossed the room. Holding out the folded missive and the bag of coins, he said, "A mail coach will be departing the Grey Goose Inn on Hall Street in Matlock at eight o'clock; you and this letter must be on it; Hermes should be waiting to take you there. I know that the coach makes a stop at the posting station in Meryton; when you arrive, hire a horse and make haste to deliver that note to Netherfield. I am sure Gardiner will bring you back with him."
Vincent nodded firmly, placed the letter and money into his pockets, then departed quickly. Georgiana came into his study moments afterward. "Brother, is it true?" she asked. "Your friends Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas were at the cabin?"
Darcy took her by the hand and guided her to the settee before the fireplace. Sitting there with her, he explained his discovery of Elizabeth and Maria, and said only of their experience that it was very traumatic for them both.
"I should like you to be kind to them, sister," he added. "They will need a friend, as it may be some time before they can make the journey back to their families. They were not treated well, and I mean to allow them as much time as they need to recover here."
"Oh, of course you do!" Georgiana cried. "I would expect nothing less from so good and kind a man as you are!"
It was not long before Reynolds knocked on his door and announced that Dr. Jones had arrived, then showed him into the study.
"I understand you have some patients for me, Mr. Darcy?" he said.
Darcy stood. "I do, yes. Mrs. Reynolds is with them in the bathing room. I will take you there and explain on the way. There is a sofa there where you can examine them, if they should allow it."
Dr. Jones was clearly intrigued, but replied with only a silent nod. Turning back to his sister, he said, "Dearest, while Mrs. Reynolds is occupied looking after our guests, please see to it that rooms are readied for them. Tell the maids to prepare a suite with a sitting room."
Georgiana jumped to her feet. "Of course! I shall also be glad to provide gowns for the young ladies to wear during their stay with us."
Darcy took her hands and gave them an affectionate squeeze. "You are a good girl for doing them a kindness. I do not know that Miss Lucas will fit your clothes in her delicate condition, however."
"One of the ladies is with child, sir?" asked Dr. Jones.
A grimace fell over his features before Darcy could control it. "Not by choice," he said, then parted from Georgiana to take the doctor to his patients. He explained the full situation to him, how the girls had been kidnapped and held in captivity, were treated worse than a harlot in a brothel, and that he believed them to have been abused in other ways, given the state of Elizabeth's jaw.
"You should also be made aware, I think, that Miss Bennet is a relation to you by marriage," he added. "Your cousin, Mrs. Edward Gardiner, is her aunt—Mr. Gardiner being Mrs. Bennet's brother."
Jones nodded. "Yes, I thought the name Bennet familiar. My cousin has written to me of her nieces a number of times."
They soon reached the door to the bathing suite. First was a dressing room, in which a person could disrobe before entering the bathing room itself and then dress again afterward. There was a good-sized fireplace, a sofa and chairs for lounging, and even a small Pembroke table for dining. Already there were several covered plates atop the table, waiting for the two girls to finish their baths.
Jones looked to Darcy. "I am sure the question is moot, but I must ask all the same… Have you an ice house, Mr. Darcy?"
Darcy nodded. "We do, yes. Why do you ask?"
"You said Miss Bennet's jaw was dislocated, her face still rather swollen. The ice will help reduce the swelling as well as manage her pain; as you know, setting the mandible back into its proper place is no comfortable task."
Darcy kicked himself mentally for not having remembered; he moved immediately to the bell-pull and tugged it. The butler replied himself, and Darcy ordered him to have a block of ice fetched at once. After Reynolds had gone, he drew a breath and approached the door to the bathing room, knocking lightly.
Mrs. Reynolds answered almost at once, stepping out into the dressing room to speak to them. "Yes, Mr. Darcy?"
"If you would, Mrs. Reynolds, inform our guests that the doctor has arrived," Darcy said.
"I understand that the ladies were abused," added the doctor, "so you may tell them I will wait as long as is necessary for them to be comfortable with being examined."
Mrs. Reynolds' eyes brimmed with tears, and she pulled a handkerchief from the cuff of her sleeve to dab at them. "I think that very good of you, Dr. Jones," she said in a soft voice. "Oh, those poor creatures in there! I cannot begin to imagine all the cruelties they have suffered. I… There are bruises and scars on both of them."
Darcy felt his fury rising again and quickly tamped it down. It would not do at all to blow up where Elizabeth and Maria could hear him; he'd no wish to frighten them as he'd done at the cabin.
Drawing a breath through his nose, he released it slowly. "Mrs. Reynolds, remind our guests that I have dispatched a letter informing their families as to their recovery by express. Also, assure them that my sister is seeing to their rooms, and has offered to supply them both with clothing from her wardrobe."
Mrs. Reynolds nodded. "Such a kind, sweet girl is Miss Darcy. We've already night dresses for the ladies, as well as wool stockings and flannel dressing gowns—I asked for those because they are so very thin, even the girl with child."
Dr. Jones nodded his approval. "Well done, ma'am. Even though the weather is turning warn, if the ladies are malnourished, they will need layers to help them retain body heat."
"I will leave you to your patients, Doctor," Darcy said then. "Please see me in my study when you are finished."
Jones bowed his head. "Of course, sir."
Though he would have liked to remain near, Darcy knew there was, at present, nothing else for him to do but return to his study and wait. With a nod first to Mrs. Reynolds and then the doctor, he took his leave.
-…-
The knock on the bathing room door surprised Elizabeth—not because it was loud, as it was not. It was that anyone had bothered to knock at all. No one at Hell knocked. Even when she and Maria were being used in one of the bedrooms, others would walk in without bothering to knock.
They liked to watch, they said.
As Mrs. Reynolds slipped through the door, Elizabeth reflected on the past quarter hour or so. She and Maria were in the home of the man who had proposed to her a year ago, the man whose offer she had summarily and utterly refused in her anger at his interference with Jane and lack of remorse for those actions. His insults to herself and her family, on further reflection, might well have been based on fact—her family's position in society was indeed lower than his because her father's fortune was not substantial, and her mother and younger sisters were rude and inappropriate in their behavior. She had no wealthy and important connections—one uncle was a country attorney and the other a tradesman. But for him to say such things amidst a proposal of marriage and still expect her to accept him?! What arrogance, what conceit! It wasn't as if she didn't know all these things, but really, what could she do about any of it?
Then she had brought up Wickham, and the injustices Darcy had reputedly committed against him. Not because she truly felt affronted on the former's behalf, though there was some degree of that. No, she'd brought it up because she'd wanted to return the insults, to hurt him like he had hurt her. Like he'd hurt Jane.
Elizabeth knew by the time she'd left Hunsford that her conduct had been no better than his. His letter she'd been in a fair way of knowing by heart—a part of her wondered what had become of it. She was ashamed of how unladylike she'd behaved that day. She was ashamed of having believed Wickham's story, so inappropriately communicated to someone he had only just met, because she was so ready to justify her own dislike of Darcy after her vanity had been wounded by his comment at the assembly. She was ashamed that her family's conduct was such that he had thought them unworthy of his friend.
She had acknowledged, during those last days with Charlotte and on the way to Bromley, the honor of his having taken notice of her. That he had decided the reasons for which her relations were no good for Bingley did not matter in his own case, however hard he had fought to overcome them. He had fought his inclinations and lost, and he was okay with that…until she'd given him reason not to be.
A small part of her wondered why he'd not been angry about the broken window of his cabin. That they had eaten his food. She wondered why he had bothered to aid in the search for herself and Maria. But then, Elizabeth remembered that while he had been proud, arrogant, presumptuous, and haughty in his letter, she had no reason to think him unkind. They were known to him, and they were in need. And he had loved her once—perhaps some vestiges of that love remained. At least enough to see them made well again and reunited with their families.
She'd helped Maria to bathe first, and helped her to don the large nightdress—"Appropriated from the cook, I'm afraid, as she's the largest lady in the house," Mrs. Reynolds had said—a pair of stockings, and a dressing gown so generously provided, before draining the tub and refilling it for herself. What a marvel it was to have such plumbing in one's house that they had only to turn a lever to get water to run on its own—and to be able to mix hot and cold to the desired temperature! The Darcy fortune was vast indeed if they could afford such machinery as was surely required for the convenience.
Darcy's housekeeper had stepped out of the bathing room just as she was about to get into the tub. Elizabeth sank under the water until it covered her head, and though she knew ice would be better for her face to reduce the swelling, the heat of the water helped with the ache. If for no other reason, she was willing to see this doctor just to get her jaw set to rights. It was most vexing to want to speak and not be able to, to have no means of communicating other than her eyes or pointing finger. It was even worse to hardly be able to eat and drink, as with her jaw misaligned, she could not open and close her mouth properly—she could part her lips a little, and that was all.
When her lungs began to protest her lack of breathing, Elizabeth surfaced and began to wash herself. This full, hot bath felt as foreign as hearing a knock had sounded. They'd been allowed very few baths at Hell, and those they had were always with cold water. They had to wash at the same time if they wanted to achieve any semblance of being clean, for they were barely given enough water for one person, let alone two.
Mrs. Reynolds returned as Elizabeth was washing her hair. She relayed the news that the doctor had arrived, that Mr. Darcy had sent a letter express to notify their families, and that his sister had offered to provide gowns from her own wardrobe for them to wear.
"Miss Darcy is very kind," said Maria after a look at Elizabeth. "Though I do not imagine her dresses will fit me."
"Do not you worry, my dear," Mrs. Reynolds said with a small smile. "I am certain we can alter a few to accommodate you. If not, I do not doubt Mr. Darcy will see to it that a modiste comes to measure you so that new gowns can be made."
"Oh no!" cried Maria. "I-I could not accept! Mr. Darcy is already too kind—"
Elizabeth reached out a hand to place it on Maria's; she sat in a chair they'd moved beside tub. She implored her with her eyes to calm herself, as she was becoming very agitated.
"He will want to be paid back, and I have nothing to give him!" Maria continued.
"Miss Lucas," began the housekeeper in a gentle but firm tone, "pray do not distress yourself over any expense related to your care. I can safely assure you that it is Mr. Darcy's pleasure to cover any cost. I've known him since he was four years—he's a very generous man. I can tell you not one of his servants or tenants would give him a bad name, he's so good to us."
Elizabeth marveled at this communication, trying as she rinsed her hair to reconcile the report of a longtime—and clearly faithful—servant with the man she had observed. She then recalled that Darcy himself had admitted to not being at ease in unfamiliar company, and that Bingley had told Jane early in their acquaintance that he was most comfortable among intimate acquaintances. She might not have agreed with his assessment of Jane and his interference there, but he had been acting in the service of a friend.
Oh, how she had misjudged him… Elizabeth could not help but wonder what Darcy would think of her now, if he knew every sordid detail of the last year of her life. No doubt he would be horrified, but then, who wouldn't? What she had seen, what had been done to her, what she had done—no one should ever have to face such cruelty.
Determining herself to be clean at last, she got out of the tub and pulled the cork plug to drain it. Elizabeth pulled on the knee-length nightdress that she was certain must have been Miss Darcy's, as the stockings and dressing gown likely were also. The materials were soft, and it was obvious that even these simple garments were finely made. She then found herself wondering, for the first time in a great while, how it would feel to put on a pretty dress, to actually look and feel like a gentle-born young lady again.
Well, the look she might easily achieve, but the feeling? Only time would tell.
When Elizabeth was fully covered, Mrs. Reynolds encouraged them to follow her into the dressing room. The two girls stopped as they stepped through the door, both of them warily eyeing the young man who stood near the opposite door, which led into the hall.
"This gentleman is Dr. Anthony Jones," said Mrs. Reynolds. "Sir, Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas."
Dr. Jones bowed from the waist, but did not come any closer. "Good evening, ladies. I am sure you will pardon the liberty, but Mr. Darcy has shared with me what you told him this afternoon. I am truly, deeply sorry for all you have endured."
Elizabeth shared a look with Maria, who replied, "It is very kind of you to say, sir. It…it's been a very long, very hard year."
The doctor's eyes flicked between them for a moment. "I have some training in midwifery, Miss Lucas, so I should like to know if your child moves at all? If so, does it move often?"
"I've felt it move nearly every day for…maybe five months? I can't be certain," said Maria. "And I think often. I mean, more than once a day is all I can really be certain of."
Dr. Jones nodded. "That is very good to hear. I can see you're both rather thin, which means you're not eating enough, but it's been enough to nourish the child."
His gaze then returned to Elizabeth. "Mr. Darcy says we are related by marriage, Miss Bennet—my cousin Marjorie is your aunt? Married to a Mr. Gardiner?"
Elizabeth nodded. Oh, how she wished then that she could ask about her aunt! She and Jane had always been close with Mrs. Gardiner, as she was far more sensible and ladylike than her husband's two sisters.
"I imagine you would like to hear of her," said the doctor, and she nodded again. "Why don't you and Miss Lucas sit and eat, and I will tell you a little about how Mrs. Gardiner has been."
Maria went eagerly to the Pembroke table on one wall, where Mrs. Reynolds was uncovering cold meats, fruits, cheeses, bread, and some vegetables. There were two steaming carafes, one of chocolate and one of tea. Dr. Jones advised them to eat as much as they liked, but to go slowly so as not to upset their stomachs.
"It's been some time, I imagine, since you've had good food. So take your time and don't rush," said he.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and pointed at her face, to which the doctor chuckled. "I know you cannot eat well at the moment, Miss Bennet, but do try. When the two of you are satisfied, perhaps I can take a look at you both."
With a nod of her head, Elizabeth filled her plate with a little of everything, and carefully sipped a cup of chocolate. She kept her eye on the doctor as she did her best to eat without dribbling; he might be a distant relation, but he was still a man she did not know. He, in turn, had taken a seat near the door, keeping himself across the room, and talked of their connection, Mrs. Gardiner. Her aunt had been deeply affected by her disappearance, but had remained firm in her belief that Elizabeth would come home. Her four young cousins were all of them doing well, which she was happy to hear, and despite his involvement in the search for herself and Maria, her uncle's business continued to prosper.
At least her family had not suffered too much during her absence. For that she was grateful.
After she and Maria had eaten their fill, Elizabeth was encouraged to hold a palm-sized chunk of ice, wrapped in a towel, to the side of her jaw where the dislocation was. Dr. Jones said that it would help reduce swelling as well as the amount of discomfort she would feel when he put it back into place.
"You shouldn't try to talk immediately afterward—I'd recommend waiting until tomorrow, to give the reset joint time to heal—and you should not open your mouth too wide for a fortnight or more as the joint could be weak for as long as a month," he cautioned her. "Consuming only soft, easy-to-chew foods will best aid you in healing, and because of the weakness, wearing a bandage around your head to help keep your mouth closed and supported may be necessary."
Elizabeth nodded, and it was only then that he stood and came nearer. As he did so, he said that he would look over Maria first to give the ice time to do its work. Maria began to tremble when Dr. Jones stood over where she now sat on the sofa, and her breathing became shallow. Elizabeth reached over with her free hand to hold the younger girl's, which she grasped tightly. Jones, on seeing her anxiety, knelt down and cautiously held out his hand.
"I promise you, madam, that you have nothing to fear," he said softly.
Tears streamed silently down her face as Maria looked to Elizabeth, who gave her an encouraging nod. You can do this, she thought. We were strong enough to survive Hell, you will survive a simple examination.
Jones's examination of Maria—which included looking into her mouth, flexing her joints, listening to her heart and breathing, and gentle prodding of her stomach to feel the baby—was quickly concluded. He'd even smiled and laughed a little when the child kicked, and said, "Don't think he or she likes being bothered. But the movement is good, and the heart sounds good. You've done very well, Miss Lucas, for all that this little one should not even be here."
"No, it should not," Maria agreed. "But it is, and as much as I hate the vile monsters who used me, I cannot blame this baby for their actions. He or she is innocent."
Jones smiled again. "You are remarkably level-headed about your situation, Miss Lucas. Not many would want to keep the child of their abuser, but Mr. Darcy tells me you intend to."
Maria shrugged. "Somebody has to care for it. Nobody will want it if they know how it was created."
Elizabeth found herself reflecting on how Maria had once been called "pretty and good-tempered, but rather empty-headed" by Mrs. Bennet (who really had not room to talk!), and while her mother's assessment might once have been accurate, captivity had forced her to develop a quick understanding and maturity, and a great deal more sense. She knew what she faced now, even after achieving freedom, and though still scared of what was to come, she was willing to stand up to it.
Maria Lucas had grown into a marvel of a young woman.
Dr. Jones then turned his attention to Elizabeth, conducting much the same examination; he listened to her heart and lungs, flexed her joints, and then probed her jaw. His touch was gentle, his expression kind and caring. She also sensed he was disturbed, and she did not blame him.
"An anterior dislocation, the most common form of this injury," he said. "Were you… were you punched? There's signs of bruising on your face."
Elizabeth fought the sting of tears, and nodded her head. She would not cry again. It was over.
Warning her that she would feel some discomfort, and that it may even hurt, Dr. Jones at last took her jaw in hand and worked it back into place—Elizabeth could feel it the moment it was right again, and though there was some small amount of pain, she was, more than anything, relieved.