Though the horde of undead had been delayed to a remarkable slow pace, Darcy and Bingley found that their presence at the bridge was needed for some time. THough both gentlmen would have like nothing more than to travel to Rosing's Park, it was just under a fortnight before they were able to plan their departure. Prior to that, their time was spent on patrol of the canal, ensuring that the undead could not escape the thirty fathome break between the land. Training new patroling regiments, and ending those roaming undead that emerged from the earth. Once their time slowly became their own, the idea of traveling to Kent entered their discussion. Darcy was needed to give his report of the canal's progress to Lady Catheirne, as she was a depended line of defence for the kingdom.
Several days prior to their depature, an express rider rode inot the camp, searching for Darcy. At the time of his arrival, Darcy anf Bingley had gathered several other Captains, those that would oversee the canal for the next few weeks, traiing them in the patrol locations and known troubled spots of their posts. A new leftanant quickly entered through the open canvas with the espress rider following him.
"Pardon the interuption, Colonel Darcy, but an express' just come for you from Kent." said the leftentant.
Darcy's attention drew form the map to the express rider. He recognized the attire of a Black Gaurd rider. The rider quickly dispatched his missive and departed. Darcy eyed the letter and discovered his sisters writing. Darcy made quick work of the ground routine and canal patrol, beofre making his excuses and departed the tent not long after, seeking solitude.
He moved swiftly through the camp, avoiding the working soldiers, until he found a partially secluded grove not unseen by scouts. He tore the seel with much more force than neccessary. He unfolded the missive and foudn that his sisters writing only adressed the misiive, but its contents were written by another hand entirely.
Mister Darcy,
I am aware this breaks all laws of propriety in writing this missive to you, and I beg your forgiveness in the matter, but I ask that you do not cast this aside for you may be the last hope of my family.
You will recall, nearly a fortnight ago, the destruction of Hingham Bridge, in which my sister Elizabeth fell into the canal after the bridge collapsed beneath her. You retrieved her from the water and brought her to safety, where the regiment physician tended to her wounds. Upon our departure to Kent, I had believed that Lizzy would heal and be as she was before. It grieves me more than words can say that Lizzy has not recovered from her wounds, nor does it appear that she will.
Above five days ago, Lizzy contracted a most unyielding fever. Though it was not high to cause great concern, I watched over her most dutifully and made every attempt to break her fever. However, it only seemed to grow worse. Lizzy's nights became fitful and little sleep was to be had. Often her nights were spent in fevered fight higher than in the daylight hours. This morning, I was awaken to find that Lizzy had fallen asleep, only to soon learn that could not be roused. I have found her fever to be higher than ever and unable to break it by all means that I have. I now have ample means to believe that her wounds caused during the fall of Hingham Bridge have caused this fever, but I do not have the means of treating such a fever.
We have sent for the physician several times, but of yet he has not returned to tend to Lizzy. There is speculation that he has fallen pray to the undead.
I am aware of the conflict between yourself and my sister, though of the nature of the conflict I am ignorant, and if it had been in my power I would have spared you the discomfort this missive will undoubtedly have caused her. Indeed had it not been for your sister, Miss Darcy, I would not have written at all. If there is anything that can be done to save my dear sister, I beg of you to help us. I fear the loss of my sister will cause a wound that will be the death of my entire family.
Signed,
Jane Bennet
Darcy read and reread the missive again and again until the words and ink blended together and he new its contents word for word. Yet his mind was confused. By all accounts, Elizabeth should have recovered. A slight fever was easily dealt with, especially when under the care of her elder sister. There was no reason why her condition should worsen. Darcy had no skills at healing, indeed he was more accustomed to ending the existence of the undead than preserving the injured. At most, the aid he could ensure was that Elizabeth did not rise to serve the devil. but even the thought was one which Darcy could not contemplate. Could he be of any aid to the Bennet family?
"Darcy!" called Bingley, approaching him the camp. He quickly took in the state of his friends countenance. "You look like you' ve just received some devastating news."
"indeed I have." Darcy folded the missive and met his friends eyes. "Have you packed for our journey?"
Bingley appeared rather confused. "I have."
Darcy nodded. "Then we depart today. We must ride for Rosing's immediately." He moved swiftly toward the encampment.
Bingley followed behind him. "Darcy, you're not make much sense. HAs something happened?"
Darcy paused in his steps. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He needed to think rationally, and that included allowing Bingley in on what had happened. "Yes. Something has happened." He extended the letter to Bingley ,who cautiously took it from his friend.
Bingley's quick examination returned his attention to Darcy. "Miss Bennet?"
Darcy nodded. "She's asked for my help."
Bingley took that moment to read over the missive for himself. For a moment, they stood in silence as Bingley learned for himself what had occurred at Rosing's. He lifted his eyes to Darcy. "What do you intend to do?"
"Provide whatever aid that I can." replied Darcy. He continued on his march through the camp toward his horse.
Darcy was soon reminded of Bingley's hidden strength. Though he had not forgotten the blow that was dealt him by his friend, he was soon halted by Bingley's hand upon his arm. He looked back toward Bingley and saw an expression that Darcy could not decipher for himself. Bingley spoke calmly, thought Darcy could not understand how the man felt as such. "I was under the impression that you did not care for Miss Elizabeth. Now you plan to ride for Rosing's two days prior to our departure to help. How long ago did your feeling toward Miss Elizabeth change?"
Darcy was silenced by Bingley's question. In truth, he could not fix the time nor place where he fell under her influence. Regardless of her rejection, his feelings for her had not changed. He knew his feelings had spurred him into risking his life on the bridge without a second thought. "They changed long before I realized them, Bingley. I do not know what aid I can give, but I feel I must try."
"And if God forbid, Miss Elizabeth is too far gone?" inquired Bingley.
"Then I will ensure she passes with the dignity a warrior lady of gentle birth deserved." stated Darcy. He ripped his arm free from Bingley's grasp. He could not fault his friends logic. Indeed, he was indebted to Bingley for voicing the concerns which Darcy himself could not bring himself to dwell on.
The gentlemen strode toward the stables, where their horses awaited them. Without a thought for their belongings, the men mounted their horses and broke out of the encampment at a wild pace. Darcy led the way. Though his horse was a fine gelding of great speed, Darcy felt as though he were mounted on an elder mare. The trip to Kent could not pass quick enough for his liking. As Bingley rode several paces behind his friend, he said a silent prayer that Miss Elizabeth had the strength to remain amongst the living until they arrived at Rosing's. He feared greatly for Darcy if she could not.
