Mr. Darcy was woken some time later by a rap on the door.
"Master Darcy, a Mr. Gardiner is here to inquire about Miss Bennet. The Doctor is speaking to him now." Mrs. Reynolds' voice came from out in the hall. Mr. Darcy swore and pulled on his robe, sweeping out the door and down the stairs as quickly as he could.
How could he have been so stupid as to not write to Elizabeth's Uncle? Inexcusable!
Darcy blew into the foyer, looking every bit the exhausted preoccupied man he was.
"Mr. Gardiner, there is no excuse for my absense of mind that led me to forget writing to you and your wife. Please forgive me. I thought only of Elizabeth's safety and comfort."
"So i've heard." Mr. Gardiner said amusedly, taking in Mr. Darcy's disheveled appearance. Darcy shifted uncomforably and closed his robe.
An awkward silence settled in, and the grandfather clock in the parlour chimed six. A frown passed over Darcy's face, and he turned to the sound as if sure he heard correctly. Indeed, now that he was still, he could see the faint light comng in the windows.
The doctor cleared his throat.
"As I was telling Mr. Gardiner, Master Darcy, Miss Bennet will make a full recovery, but she will need several days worth of bedrest. I found a good bump to the head and some cuts, but they will not cause lasting damage. She is resting now."
"Good good." Darcy replied, not allowing the relief to show on his face.
"Well. I will be back to my lodgings. My wife is quite concerned for Elizabeth. I expect we shall return later in the day so she may sit with our niece." Mr. Gardiner said, taking a turn at clearing his throat.
"Yes, certainly. If you inquire to my stables, they will procide you with a fresh horse." Darcy said.
With that, the three men bowed and took their leave of each other.
Darcy proceeded up the staircase, then shook his head to organize his thoughts. He couldn't go see Elizabeth until she requested to see him. Both propriety and his personality demanded it. Why then did he feel drawn to her room?
The next clock he passed by read ten minutes after the hour, and Darcy realized that he was entirely too exhausted to think clearly. The events of the night before and the morning were muddled in his mind, clouding his thinking.
His tired feet found their way to his upstairs bedchamber, and Darcy collapsed back into his bed, asleep before he had a chance to think more.
The the dream began...
Elizabeth's playful eyes caught his across the dance floor, inquisitive and alluring. She was laughing at a joke one of the other young ladies had said, perhaps in his expense, but Darcy would never know.
The scene shifted, and Elizabeth was running though a sunlight wheat field. Pemberley was a white monument in the far distance. She paused and looked over her shoulder with the same bewitching glance as before, tempting him after her. He followed, and the landscape changed again.
Elizabeth was now skipping down a forest path, the red ribbons of her dress undone and fluttering like butterflies in the wind. She stopped as she turned round a bend and gave him the look a third time before disappearing.
Darcy turned the corner and the scene of Elizabeth's fall panned out in front of him; the rock path fell sharply away, and Elizabeth lay brokenly at the bottom of a small rise, laying brokenly with the ribbons fanning out like tendrils of blood.
Darcy scrambled down to her side, wanting to pick her up, to hold her tightly to his breast until the life returned to her... but Elizabeth's body dissolved into smoke and ash as soon as he touched it. He recoiled with a cry, feeling himself fall back into the sharp shale, the rocks cutting into his body and blood gushing forth...
Darcy threw himself out of bed in an effort to wake himself up, contact with the cold wood floor bringing him sharply back to reality. The clock over the mantel read past noon.
Trying to get a better grip on his mental state, Darcy went to his washstand and doused his head in cold water, allowing it to clear his senses. As he towelled off his hair, his mind drifted back to the dream.
Surely Elizabeth's death in the dream was purely metaphorical... Constructed from the panicked thoughts he had when under the duress and adrenaline from her rescue. There was no threat to Elizabeth now that she was safe under his roof, surely...
Surely.
Try as he might, Darcy couldn't shake the nervousness his dream presented. He felt a sudden sense of worry for Elizabeth, and despite his best manners, he found himself dressing hurriedly with the intention of going to Elizabeth's room.
Halfway there, Darcy was intercepted by Mrs. Reynolds.
"Master Darcy, I was just going to inquire as to whether you had plans for dining."
"No, thank you. I will eat later in my study." Darcy replied, hiding all traces of emotion and assuming his usual proud facade.
"Yes, Master Darcy." Mrs. Reynolds said, walking in the direction of Elizabeth's room. Darcy froze. It would be most improper were he to follow his housekeeper to Elizabeth's room. Though perhaps she was on an different errand.
Darcy quietly followed Mrs. Reynolds down the hall and stairs, his stomach tightening as she opened the door of Elizabeth's room.
"Master Darcy, my I help you with anything else?" She said as she caught sight of him hovering on the landing.
"...No." Darcy said quickly. "I find myself in need of some air." He swept past and hurried down the other set of stairs and out into the drive. The air was brisk and clear, helping his mind clear slightly.
He strolled out to his flower garden, breathing deeply the scent of lilacs and early roses.
He must take Elizabeth out here when her health retu-
Darcy turned and spartan kicked a stone statue, recoiling as his foot stung.
It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Elizabeth was below him, and a fiery conniving woman to boot.
Darcy plucked a red rose from a nearby bush.
Suddenly, he remembered the red of the ribbons... Red like blood. Elizabeth's blood.
He flung the blossom away and fled the flowers, walking along the drive.
Suddenly, his eyes fell on the far yellow field of grass and wheat left over from an early harvest.
Mischevious brown eyes appeared in his mind's eye, and that was his undoing.