Chapter 3
Meryton
Elizabeth heaved a sigh of heartfelt relief as she and Mr. Collins attained the pavement which ran across the shops lining the main street. Her cousin's conversation had grown only more tedious with time, and she was thoroughly tired of listening to him babble on and on about Lady Catherine, Rosings, and his future role as master of Longbourn.
A quick glance behind her showed that her three sisters were many yards behind her, and Elizabeth stopped in front of the bookshop window in order to allow them to catch up.
"Are you intending to visit the bookshop, cousin?" Mr. Collins asked.
"No, not today," Elizabeth answered, and then added provokingly, "though I am very fond of this place which, along with selling books, is also the local circulating library. I greatly enjoy a good novel."
She knew that Mr. Collins considered novels a base form of entertainment, and thus was not surprised when he cried out, "Oh, but Miss Elizabeth, I fear that will not do at all! You must know that a clergyman's wife must read only the most religious of tomes, such as Fordyce's sermons and the like."
"Ah, but I am not, nor do I think I ever will be, a clergyman's wife," Elizabeth answered archly. "I fear that I do not have the temperament for such an exalted position."
Mr. Collins looked thoroughly bewildered at this remark, which was no surprise. Elizabeth had not known her cousin for long, but she knew he thought well of himself and his situation in life, and therefore it was beyond his capacity to imagine that she might not wish to become Mrs. Collins.
"But..." he began, only to be interrupted by Jane, who had by this time reached their side.
"Robinson Crusoe!" Miss Bennet exclaimed, gesturing at the book sitting front and center in the shop window. "Oh, how I love that book!"
"So do I," Elizabeth agreed smugly. "It is so interesting with the descriptions of the shipwreck, followed by Crusoe's many years on a deserted island!"
Mr. Collins looked even more scandalized and protested, "Oh, my dear cousins, I fear that such reading ... oh, my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh..."
"Look over there!" Lydia shrieked from behind the small group, which turned everyone's attention toward a red coated officer across the street who was standing next to an unknown gentleman with remarkably good looks.
"I wonder who that could be?" Kitty exclaimed, rather too loudly for Elizabeth's tastes.
"Hush!" Elizabeth ordered in a low voice. "It is not courteous to..."
Her remonstrance fell on deaf ears as Lydia waved an eager hand at the two gentlemen, one of whom was Captain Denny, a popular officer in the militia regiment settled in Meryton for the winter.
To the younger girls' delight, both gentlemen crossed the street, and Lydia exclaimed, "Oh, good morning, Captain Denny! We were not certain if you were back from Town yet!"
"I have indeed returned," the man responded with a good humored smile, "and I brought a friend with me. Please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Wickham, who has taken a commission in the regiment."
Lydia and Kitty squealed softly and even Elizabeth found herself smiling in approval. The young man was handsome and his expression winning, and he needed only a military uniform to be quite perfect.
"Mr. Wickham, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia," Denny said, and Wickham bowed charmingly toward them as the ladies curtsied. Jane turned toward Mr. Collins and said, "May I please introduce Mr. Collins, our cousin from Kent? Mr. Collins, Captain Denny and Mr. Wickham."
Lydia waited impatiently for these courtesies to end and then cried out, "Mr. Wickham, I do hope you will come to our Uncle and Aunt Phillips' house tomorrow night for dinner and cards! They live just down the street from here!"
"Well, as to that, Miss Lydia," Wickham said with gleam of his white teeth, "I have not been invited, though I do hope to meet your estimable relations in the near future. It was the hope of charming society which brought me here to Hertfordshire..."
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Jane suddenly straighten with anticipation. Elizabeth turned away from Mr. Wickham to observe two horsemen approaching from the north. Both were familiar, and one in particular, was most welcome – Mr. Bingley, the current leasee of Netherfield Park, and her sister Jane's suitor.
Bingley swung off his horse and said enthusiastically, "Miss Bennet! This is wonderful. We were just riding to Longbourn to see how you are feeling today!"
"I am very well, Mr. Bingley," Jane said, breaking into Elizabeth's thoughts. "Thank you. I hope you are well?"
"We are indeed, Miss Bennet. It is a fine day for November, is it not?"
Elizabeth was distracted once again. Mr. Wickham, who had been chatting genially with Lydia and Kitty, turned around at this juncture and stiffened, his skin suddenly pale. Elizabeth followed his gaze and noted that Mr. Darcy, atop his great black stallion, was staring back at Wickham, his own face rigid with some strong emotion. Anger? Fear?
Wickham lifted his hand to tip his hat just slightly, and Darcy returned the gesture, though his expression remained icy. At that moment, as Elizabeth's mind whirled with curiosity and confusion at this odd exchange, the sound of galloping hooves drew the attention of the entire party. Elizabeth took an urgent step forward as a familiar bay horse pounded into town, with Peter, one of the stable boys from Longbourn, on the gelding's back.
"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth!" the boy cried, pulling the horse to a halt and vaulting to the ground with little concern for his own limbs. "Oh, Misses, Longbourn is on fire! The master sent me for help!"
Jane whitened and swayed, which caused Mr. Bingley to reach out with a sustaining, reassuring arm while Kitty shrieked in horror and Lydia's eyes widened in distress.
Darcy, who had turned his horse as if to leave the group, now turned back and snapped, "Captain Denny, run to the barracks and tell Colonel Forster that there is a fire at Longbourn and that every available man must rush there immediately. Bingley, ride to Lucas Lodge and inform Sir William of this situation. I will ride to Longbourn immediately to see how I can assist."
Bingley, who was still supporting Jane, said, "Miss Bennet is very ill, Darcy..."
"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty, help your sister," Darcy ordered. "Bingley, you must go for help as quickly as possible! Ladies, I beg you to stay here where you are safe!"
Mr. Collins, who had been standing with his mouth hanging open loosely, now cried out, "Longbourn in flames? Oh dear! What a terrible occurrence! I must go to see what has happened! My inheritance!"
Elizabeth watched in disbelief as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley galloped off on their own horses with Mr. Collins shambling in pursuit on foot after them. Now that she was looking for it, she could see, in the distance, smoke rising from Longbourn.
Lydia took a few steps after their male cousin, only to halt when Elizabeth grasped her by the arm.
"Lyddy, no!" Elizabeth said sternly. "We would only be in the way at home. The best thing we can do is to stay safe so that Mamma and Father do not have to worry about us! We should go to our uncle's house and wait for news!"
Wickham took a step forward and said, "Perhaps you ladies will allow me to escort you there?"
Elizabeth frowned a little at this. The gentleman was young and healthy – why was he not hurrying to assist with the fire? On the other hand, he was but newly arrived and would not know the way to her home.
"Peter, ride to the blacksmith and ask him for his assistance," she ordered, though her voice was trembling. "But before you go, are Mamma and Papa and Mary safe?"
"I believe so, Miss Elizabeth," the boy said, vaulting back onto his horse and rushing off toward the other end of town, where the blacksmith and his five strong sons dwelled.
Elizabeth swallowed, nearly overwhelmed by the urge to rush home, to see what was happening, but with Jane nearly fainting from terror, with Kitty crying and Lydia gibbering, she knew she had to take care of her sisters and leave the men to deal with the chaos at Longbourn.
"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Wickham," she said, and was pleased that her voice was mostly steady. "My aunt and uncle live just this way."
/
Darcy's heart pounded in time with Phoenix's thundering hoofbeats as they galloped towards Longbourn. His gaze kept flicking between the road ahead and the film of smoke rising visible above the leafless trees and beginning to taint the air he was breathing. Every so often, brown grass and dead leaves crunched beneath Phoenix's hooves. It had been dry lately, Darcy thought grimly as he watched the puffs of dust rise, so there was no lingering damp of rain to deter a fire from taking hold.
He saw the gravel drive of Longbourn coming up and tugged the reins, directing his stallion towards the crushed rock. Phoenix responded easily, falling into a trot as they came up the drive. Ahead, Darcy could see stable hands leading spooked, shying horses from the stables, perilously close to the blazing east wing of the house. The horses were tossing their heads and tugging at the leads, frightened by the smoke and the rain of sparks falling about them.
Servants and tenants from nearby dashed about, some carrying sloshing buckets to fling the contents haphazardly at the fire, others wringing their hands and wailing. Darcy eyed the chaos and then the house – as far as he could see, through the thick haze of smoke, the fire was mainly in the east wing, with the front and the west appearing untouched as yet. He swung down to seize a stable boy by the shoulder as the lad dashed past.
"Where is Bennet?" Darcy demanded.
The lad looked up at him wide-eyed, freckles standing out sharply on a face pale with fear and excitement and smudged with smoke and grime. "He's over yonder, sir!" the boy cried, waving his arm in the direction of the east wing. "With Miss Mary and Mrs. Bennet, sir! They fell out the window, sir!"
"See to my horse, and be certain you keep him safely away from the fire," Darcy ordered the boy, and strode off around the house. He found Bennet crouched over the still form of Miss Mary Bennet, who was laid out carefully on a horse blanket, with her right arm distinctly crooked halfway down her forearm. Nearby, Bennet's wife was shrieking and wailing and clutching her right ankle.
"Oh, my daughter! My home! My leg! Oh it hurts! My beautiful home! My poor Mary!"
"Calm yourself, madam," Darcy said firmly to her, and she gulped, looking up at him with eyes full of tears. He turned away towards Bennet. "What is going on, man?"
Bennet looked up. Gone was the sardonic calm always visible in company – his face was frenzied, panic clouding his mind and eyes. "Darcy," he said blankly. "What are you doing here? Oh, someone help Mary, please!"
Darcy turned away again, surveying the frenetic activity around the yard. He saw another boy and gestured to catch the lad's attention. "You, there, what's your name?" he asked briskly.
The boy ran up. "Ben, sir!" he piped.
"Good. Ben, find a horse and rush to town. Fetch the apothecary and tell him Miss Mary and Mrs. Bennet are injured," Darcy ordered. "Go as quickly as you can."
"Yes sir!" the lad said, tugged his blond forelock, and dashed off. Darcy turned to see where he could next bring order, reaching out to catch the arm of a manservant.
"What is your name?" he asked sharply.
The man turned to jerk a hasty little bow. "Clem, sir!"
"Clem," Darcy repeated, and beckoned a maid over. "And you?"
She dipped a quick curtsey, looking in fright up at the house, where the windows in the stricken wing were glowing from the fire. "Belinda, sir!"
"Clem, Belinda, take some of the others and go into the west wing where there is no fire." Darcy commanded. "Fetch blankets and wrap Miss Mary up well. Is there a summer kitchen?
"Yes sir," Belinda answered hastily, plainly relieved by the simple orders.
"Excellent. Mrs. Bennet and Miss Mary need to be taken in there to keep warm. I have sent Ben to fetch the apothecary," Darcy informed them. They rushed to do his bidding and he bent down beside Bennet again. "The servants will bring blankets for Miss Mary," he informed the distraught father. "I have ordered that she be taken to the summer kitchen."
Bennet looked up. "I – yes – thank you," he mumbled, plainly distracted.
"See to your wife," Darcy suggested, sending a glance at the sobbing Mrs. Bennet before striding back to the yard. He glanced around and arrested another rushing servant. "The water in your bucket – where are you getting it?"
The man turned hastily. "The summer house, sir, there's a spigot there!"
"Are there any other spigots?" the master of Pemberley demanded.
"Yes, sir! There is another one near the west wing."
"We need to use both spigots," Darcy ordered, "and throw your water into the..." Darcy glanced back briefly, assessing which room was most gripped by the fire, "the library."
"Yessir!" The man ran off and Darcy continued purposefully for the summer house, the dirt of the yard puffing up to cover the gloss of his boots. There he found only more panic and confusion, as servants jostled to fill their buckets before running off again and flinging the water feebly towards the devouring flames.
Darcy inserted himself into the midst of the mess. "Men, form a bucket brigade!" he roared. "Line up! Pass them hand to hand! Douse the east wing! Wet the walls to try and prevent the spread!"
He watched as the dithering servants, under clear instruction, formed a ragged line, filled and half-filled buckets traveling towards the house, empty ones moving back to the spigots at the summer house and the yard next to the west wing. Footmen and stable hands and a few tenants stood shoulder to shoulder, a handful of doughty older women – one wearing a housekeeper's uniform, another a cook's garb, a farmwife with rough gnarled hands– mixed in among them. A cluster of maids huddled at the spigot, filling buckets to pass to the men.
Darcy turned for the house, setting his shoulders and slipping in through a set of French doors in the west wing. He moved through the hallway, checking carefully for fire in each room until he reached the main part of the house. So far, he had found nothing but smoke, until he reached the dining room. There, the heat was greater, and he could hear a faint crackling on the other side of the wall.
He turned away, eyeing the window, and finally picked up an unlit candelabra to smash the glass clear and shimmy out of the opening. "Here!" he called, and heads turned towards him. "Some half a dozen of you, bring buckets in here and start drenching these walls! One of you must go upstairs through the west wing and see if the fire is encroaching on the upper floor! We must prevent it spreading! Maids, follow me – we have a chance now to remove valuables and necessities!"
Several of the men and the young women sprang to obey, the bucket chain closing the gaps and the group at the spigots redoubling their efforts. Darcy accepted a bucket to soak the inside wall of the dining room before handing the empty pail back to a stable boy to be taken and refilled. He slithered back in the window, sweeping up the silver to hand out to a maid. "Go in the west wing," he ordered, "and start there. If necessary, break the windows on your way to clear out escape routes."
Darcy climbed back out and surveyed the yard just as a cart rattled swiftly up and a spare man with spectacles adorning a kind face leapt down, carrying a black bag. Beside him, the excitable stable boy darted towards the summer kitchen with urgent gestures. Relief that Miss Mary would soon be attended by the apothecary added hope and strength to Darcy's limbs, and he turned with his bucket to toss the contents with renewed vigor.
/
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Author Note: Thanks for reading and commenting! FYI, if you didn't go back and re-read Chapter 1, I did add some extra content there and made some tweaks, including moving a section to Chapter 2. I noticed that FF took a long time to make the new Chapter 1 available; must have been some glitch. Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying my new story. :-)