17th December

Elizabeth caught her breath when Mr Darcy broke away from the small group by the carriage and run toward the house. She knew instantly he was coming to her.

He ignored the queries of those stood by the front door and disappeared inside the house and her head turned to the door as it flew open.

He stood in the doorway, taking in the scene for an instant before dashing to her side. His eyes absorbing her face, then running the length of her body to check she was still in one piece, she could only assume.

'I am well,' she gasped, as he pulled her into a gentle embrace and buried his face in her hair, whispering his concern and affection. 'I am well,' she reiterated, 'Lydia saved me.'

Slowly her words, and a gentle cough from Hill, penetrated his agitated mind, and he relaxed, releasing her and laying her back on the day bed, but he remained on his knees, holding her hand, rubbing his thumb across the back and knuckles and gazing into her eyes.

Elizabeth was aware of Hill leaving the room, but her eyes were locked with Mr Darcy's as they gave each other silent reassurance.

Some minutes passed before he spoke again. 'Can you… do you feel able to tell me what happened?'

'Lydia was a star.' Elizabeth pointed to the broken porcelain on the floor. 'She hit him with that.' She explained how she had woken to find someone in the room, unsure who it was. When she reached the part where Mr Collins pulled away the blanket and spoke, he shuddered and kissed her hand.

'My poor darling. How can you ever forgive us… me for leaving you?'

'There is nothing to forgive. Mr Wickham had to be dealt with and Lydia has faced her demon and prevailed. I am as well as I can be, given my injuries, and will have no lingering effects from this day. Do not cast guilt on yourself for this unforeseeable circumstance.'

'We should have escorted him to the stage ourselves.'

'And give him more reason to think himself superior? Escorted by two of his patroness's family, no less… Sending him to Meryton in a farm cart was more than he deserved.'

'He should never have been able to come here and disturb you-'

'Fitzwilliam.' She struggled to sit up, 'Stop now. I will not have you berate yourself for something that is not your fault. Now, look out of the window and tell me what is happening. I cannot believe Lydia chased him off like that, I have never been more amused.'

Mr Darcy described the scene with Mr Collins flat on his back.

'He's been knocked out again?' she chuckled. 'It really is not his day, is it?'

'I should go and speak with your father,' he said, his reluctance to leave her obvious.

'Go, I will be fine. Send Lydia to me if you can pry her away, and sort that awful man out, once and for all.'

He nodded, hesitated and kissed her hand once more before leaning in and gently brushing his lips over hers. She gasped, then wrapped her good arm around his neck and pulled his head down, opening her lips to his eager exploration.

She was quivering and limp-limbed when he finally released her and left the room, promising to return as soon as he could.

A few minutes had passed, allowing her to regain her composure, before Lydia came in.

'Lizzy!' she cried, entering the room like a hurricane.

Elizabeth held out her good arm, 'Come to this side of me, I want to hug you.'

Lydia dropped down beside her sister and laid her head on her shoulder. 'You are well?' she asked.

'I am. Are you?'

'Do you know something, Lizzy? Beating the real Mr Collins is so much more satisfying than beating a tree.'

Elizabeth chuckled. 'I am very proud of you, Lydia. You succeeded where I did not. Thank you for your timely arrival.'

'I could not let that horrible man hurt you, Lizzy. You looked after me so well when I was ill. It was my turn to look after you.'

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. 'You fill me with guilt, I did not protect you from him.'

'From what you have told me, you were not able to. You came as soon as you could, but he had…' Lydia gulped, and her body convulsed. 'He had already—' The words broke on a sob, her body heaved, and Elizabeth pulled her youngest sister into a tight embrace as she sobbed her hurt out.

Cursing her broken arm, she did the best she could to comfort the weeping girl in her arms, pressing her cheek onto the side of Lydia's head and whispering comfort and nonsense words until the storm passed.

Jane and Kitty found them huddled together when they arrived. Jane realised immediately why Lydia was in such distress and hustled Kitty away to take off her outerwear, only returning once Kitty was ensconced with their mother.

Jane came in, followed by Hill bearing the tea tray. 'I thought we could all do with a cup of tea,' she said, as she directed where the tray should be placed and readied the cups. 'Do you not think?'

Lydia sniffed and lifted her head. 'I would like that,' she said, her voice rough from crying.

Jane simply smiled and poured her a cup. Pouring another for Elizabeth she carried them over to her sisters.

'Will you not tell me what has happened?' she asked, moving back to the tray to collect a cup for herself, then settling on a chair close to the day bed.

Between the pair of then, Elizabeth and Lydia told them what had occurred leading up to the chase down the drive. Jane was alternately horrified and amused, but her final emotion was pride.

'You have my admiration, Lydia. I am not sure I could have done what you did today. Brava, my dear.'

Lydia gave her a hesitant smile. 'But I was not that brave, more terrified and furious.'

'Bravery is about doing what must be done, despite being afraid,' said Elizabeth. 'You could have run away, or cowered from him, but you hit him and chased him from the house.'

'I overheard something Colonel Fitzwilliam said,' Jane offered. 'He called you a wonderful warrior and that he would have been proud to have you in his regiment, had you been born male.'

Lydia blushed. 'Oh, I expect he was just being kind.'

'He is a man used to battle, I do not think he would give false praise.'

'Men who go to war do not cry after a battle,' Lydia said.

'I would be willing to wager that they do,' Elizabeth replied.

'They do indeed,' a voice from the doorway added. 'I have it in his own words in a letter he wrote me from France.'

Elizabeth knew the voice and glanced over to the doorway with a smile, her eyes thanking Mr Darcy for his timely words. Her father was at his shoulder, gazing at her with a worried frown.

'Papa!' Elizabeth exclaimed. 'Now I can find out how went the interview with Mr Wickham. I have been desperate for news.'

'My Lizzy is well,' Mr Bennet's frown disappeared and he chuckled. 'Jane, my dear, a cup of tea would be most welcome, if you would.' He moved further into the room and took a chair. 'I will explain all once I have… er… wet my whistle, as they say. I am parched.'