Chapter 1
"She was in London? And you concealed it from me?" Bingley quickened his pace to match that of his friend's. It was not easy to keep with Darcy's long strides when he was in haste.
"My apologies for that, Bingley," Darcy stopped by the coach. "I made a mistake. My advice regarding Miss Bennet's sentiments for you was based on a wrong assumption about her true feelings for you. I am sorry for my interference."
"But now you are certain that she cares for me, that she will have me."
Darcy smiled. "I am."
A smile formed on Bingley's lips. "Does that mean that I have your blessing?"
For once Darcy would wish that his friend would follow his own heart and do not seek his approval on an important and private matter such as the companion of his future life. "Do you need my blessing?" Darcy could not keep the teasing tone from his voice.
"No, but I would like to have it all the same."
Darcy patted his friend's shoulder. "Then waste no more time on my account, Charles. A certain Miss Bennet is waiting for you."
In blunt disregard of every rule established for morning calls, Bingley asked his horse to be saddled and departed for Longbourn, post-haste.
As the carriage rolled out of Netherfield on its way to London, Darcy's eyes travelled the landscape in search of a familiar figure. He knew it would be unlikely to find Elizabeth walking the countryside so early in the morning, the roads were still muddy from the previous night's rain and the chilliness of the morning air would keep the most adventurous spirit at home a little longer.
Subtle changes were announcing the end of the summer. Yellow patches appearing amongst the greenery and a cold breeze that preceded the autumn to come. Was it already September?
Darcy was not completely satisfied with the results obtained during this visit to Hertfordshire. Though one of the reasons to come hither had been resolved -Bingley was already on the road to connubial felicity- his own expectations on similar matters were as uncertain as they had been upon his arrival. Even worse, if he came to think on it, for he had arrived in the country with the hopeful expectation for a possible reconciliation with Elizabeth, yet was returning home hopelessly empty handed and doubtful. His last meetings with Elizabeth had been awkward and anything but encouraging. Whenever they had been together in the same room, she had chosen to sit as far away from him as the room allowed and their few attempts at conversation, though in perfect terms of civility, had been always scarce or untimely interrupted.
At least his friend's infelicity would not be a burden that he would carry over his shoulders any more. He had rectified the wrong he had inflicted on him and given him the final push towards happiness. He only hoped that Bingley would not miss this chance he was given and would secure Miss Bennet's consent to become his wife.
The carriage entered Meryton and Darcy's thoughts turned to his sister, who was now at Matlock, visiting the Fitzwilliams. Poor Georgiana. He had merely arrived at Pemberley and was off to London to search for Elizabeth's sister without giving her further explanation. For a fortnight, such was his commitment with that task that on his return home he was too busy and distressed to pay attention to her. Determined to make it up for her, he asked the coachman to make a short halt at the village to purchase a token for his sister. He had seen a lovely china box on a previous visit which would do well. This done, Darcy was ready to depart for home.
When the Landau reached the crossroad to London, Longbourn's gate appeared on his right, not far away. Darcy smiled to himself for he was certain that Bingley was asking Miss Bennet's hand in marriage at this very moment. The lucky fellow was probably now engaged to his angel and feeling the luckiest man in the world. Would his chance come some day?
A violent jolt of the carriage almost threw him off his seat. He heard the loud noise of cracking wood and the coach began to inclined to one side. He could hear the driver trying to calm the horses, but with every move, the coach was losing its balance and threatening to fall.
"We are about to lose the wheel!" Wilkins, the groom, called him from the back.
Thereupon Darcy did something he would regret for as long as he should live. Disregarding the threat of the broken wheel and the danger it implied, he alighted the carriage to inspect the damage. Hardly had he opened the door when the frightened horses bolted forward, making him lose his footing and throwing him heavily on the ground. Much as the driver endeavoured to secure them, the horses kept moving back and forth so nervously that little could be done to keep control of them.
"Mr. Darcy!" Wilkins shouted.
The gentleman looked up at the sound of wood breaking into pieces. The damaged wheel gave in to the weight of the Landau and the coach fell over him before anything could be done for him to escape. For a few seconds, everything was chaos. Glass breaking, horses neighing and the frantic cry of servants that were trying to release their master from his heavy prison.
Wilkins ran to the front to secure the horses while the coachman released the harness so they would not move the carriage while Darcy was still under it. Once the horses were released, the coachman and Bates, the footman, lifted the carriage while Wilkins lowered to the ground to pull Darcy out of danger. As soon as he caught the sleeve of his greatcoat, he quickly dragged his limp body from under the coach to a safer location.
The master was unconscious but alive.
Wilkins carefully removed the broken glass from over Darcy's chest. "We must fetch a doctor. Bates, make haste! Run to the nearest house and ask for help!"
The footman ran in the direction of Longbourn while Wilkins and the coachman prayed that the master would survive until the doctor came.
"Come back for suppertime, Mr. Bingley." Mrs. Bennet said as they accompanied the young gentleman to his horse. "Surely you would like to see Jane once again this evening."
"I thank you, ma'am, it will be a great pleasure," replied the young man, whose proud grin was so firmly attached to his face that it appeared it would never leave.
"Pray, iss Mr Darcy still at Netherfield? You may bring your friend as well, if you please.; we can do with one more guest for supper."
"I fear that will be impossible. Mr. Darcy has departed for London this very morning," replied Bingley.
"So soon?" The worlds escaped Elizabeth's lips before she could stop them.
Whatever Bingley was to answer to her question, it was forgotten in the various invitations and comments about the shooting prospects that Longbourn was offering at the time. Thus, his presence at the house was secured for the following day, too.
The young gentleman was saying his goodbyes for the third time when a man came running to him. Bingley recognized Darcy's footman.
"Sir! Sir!" Bates cried as he approached them. "You must help us! There has been an accident!"
"What has happened?" Bingley asked in astonishment.
"A wheel broke and the carriage fell over Mr. Darcy!" Bates panted.
There was a small commotion in front of Longbourn's front door.
"Gracious Lord, Darcy!" Bingley exclaimed. "Where is he? I shall go directly!"
"Not far from here, sir." The footman pointed at the road. The gentlemen headed towards that direction, Mr. Bennet instructing a servant to ready a carriage so they could bring the injured gentleman to Longbourn.
"Mrs. Bennet," said Mr. Bennet on crossing the gate. "Pray, prepare a room for Mr Darcy!"
"Yes, yes! Of course! Hill, Hill! Oh, what a tragedy!" cried Mrs. Bennet as she walked hastily into the house. "Oh, Mr. Darcy is injured! Hill! Hill!"
Elizabeth was still trying to overcome her shock. The man she loved was injured and lying on the road. Her eyes were fixed in the front gate where Mr. Bingley and her father had just disappeared. She inhaled deeply and ran after them.
Chapter 2
For two hours, the Bennet family waited anxiously for news from the sickroom. The appearance of the doctor did not produce any comfort, either, for the condition of the gentleman had not shown signs of improvement since he was brought. The most severe injury was the one on the head. The physician affirmed that, save for a couple of broken ribs, no other major wounds were found during his examination. Nonetheless, the existence of internal damage that he could not detect remained a reason for concern.
"There is not much I can say nor expectations to give about his recovery." The doctor shook his head. "All I can tell you is that he breathes and nothing else. We will have to wait and see what happens. He seems to be a strong man, we must pray that he recovers."
On a day that they should have been celebrating Jane's engagement, the Bennet household was almost mourning the man upstairs. Everyone was too grieved to converse. Jane was beside her fiancée, trying to comfort him for what he had just seen, Kitty and Mary were too shocked by the sight of the unconscious and bleeding Mr. Darcy to talk and Elizabeth was praying that her beloved's health would improve.
There was no change in Darcy's during the course of the day. A manservant remained with him during the evening and Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley visited him a couple of times to see if there was any sign of improvement. No one else was allowed into the room. Elizabeth waited anxiously for a report after these visits but her father always returned so concerned that she dared not to ask about the gentleman's state.
Dinner was sad and silent. Bingley remained a long time after dinner and departed for Netherfield with the promise to return in the morning to visit his friend. The family retired soon after that. There were no chats between sisters, no excitement for Jane's engagement, only the silent sound of the prayers from the family for the gentleman's recovery and the hope that the morning would bring better news.
The sight of the bleeding Darcy lying unconscious on the road was too fresh in Elizabeth's mind to allow her to rest. Every time she closed her eyes, that image was back again, as was her own despair for seeing him in such state. Her father was trying to stop the profuse bleeding of his head and the red blots that stained his clothes made her fear for more injuries on his body she could not see. Not once had he reacted or moved during the time they tended him on the road and his shallow breathing was the only prove that he was still alive.
As she closed her eyes, she recalled the awkwardness that her existence had been since Darcy's return to Netherfield. She was in the hope that his arrival would present an opportunity to see more of the engaging manners that had captivated her so much at Pemberley but instead she had suffered the same aloofness and reserve with which he had showed himself when she first met him. His demeanour was so stern that she had almost been afraid to engage him in conversation. And when she finally gathered the courage to approach him, someone would interrupt them and pull her apart.
Her uneasiness had been such when his presence that neither her blush nor her flutters could be satisfactorily controlled, thus forcing her to retreat to the other end of the room. She did not believe him to be completely indifferent to her, though, for she had caught him staring at her on more than one occasion. But not even then she had used those opportunities to converse with him. She had averted her eyes quickly and searched for a distraction that would keep her from looking at him. And now she regretted her actions so much!
Time passed and sleep did not come. She could not rest until she knew how he was doing, until she saw him one more time. So decided, she rose from the bed, pulled a shawl around her shoulders and headed towards the room where Darcy rested.
"Miss Elizabeth," the manservant startled.
She wrapped the shawl tightly around herself and stood near the door. "John, I needed to know how the gentleman is doing."
"Not well, Miss, not well at all." The loyal servant shook his head in despair.
Elizabeth approached the bed silently. "Good Heavens," she gasped. "He looks so pale."
"Indeed, Miss. He has not moved since he was brought here, not even a wince, and his breathing is so shallow that it seems he is not breathing at all. We can only pray that he improves."
"He will." Elizabeth looked at Darcy's still form. "I will look after him, John. Go and rest for a while."
"But Miss, what will your father say?"
"He does not have to know."
The servant nodded and left the room. Hesitantly, Elizabeth approached the bed.
The room was dim, barely illuminated by a candle on the nightstand, making the atmosphere even more lugubrious than it already was. As she came closer, she could see the thick bandage around Darcy's forehead that covered part of his left eye, a few bruises on his face and the almost imperceptible movements of his chest when he breathed.
Elizabeth pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat by his side, searching in his features for a sign of life but she did not find any. With tentative fingers, her hand brushed his cheek in an attempt to produce a reaction but to no avail. His face was cold and pale, his features relaxed, as if he were feeling nothing at all, as if life had momentarily abandoned him.
Time passed and she remained by his side, watching, praying, holding his hand, touching him in a desperate endeavour to bring him back to the world. But no response was extracted from the gentleman, not the slightest move. If only he knew that he was not alone, that she was there with him …
"Mr. Darcy, can you hear me?" She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers.
Nothing, not even a wince.
"I wish you could," she said. "Because there are many things I would like to tell you. I wished I had the courage to say them sooner and now I fear it is to late. Or perhaps is it not?"
There was no reply from the gentleman, just the same dreadful silence that had been possessed the room since she came in.
"The doctor said there is not much we can do, that your recovery depends more on your strength and your will and your desire to live than on any draught medicine can produce. But I know well enough of your determination to say that you are capable of overcoming this misfortune if you only attempt at it. Are you willing to do so? I do not think it would be such a tremendous effort, you are young and strong and I am most certain that you can do it. Pray, do you promise you will try?" She took his hand in hers. "Let us make a deal: you will make an effort to get better and I promise that I shall take care of you until you are well. Would you consider it fair?"
Desolate, Elizabeth traced his face for a reaction, for a sign of life but there was none. "I almost talked to you when you came to dine with us the other day. Believe me, I almost did, but then you were required at the card table and I did not have the chance. My mother's rapacity for whist players can be really annoying at times, I am so sorry that you were one of her victims." Her fingertips gently brushed the outline of his brow and jaw. "I heard you played awfully, I know my game was not better. Surely you were distracted, but so was I, so do not feel uneasy about it. Was I the cause of your inattention perchance? Because you certainly were the cause of mine. Since you arrived at Meryton, you have been the only thing I had in mind. I wanted to thank you for what you did for Lydia, for restoring my family's honour, but I could not find the courage to approach you."
A sob tightened up her throat and she choked on her own words. "But it was not merely that what I wanted to say, there was something else. I wanted to tell you of my love for you, how much I regret my words at Hunsford, how deeply you have grown inside my heart since then. But I could not. I wish I had been braver and I had spoken before, acquainted you to my true feelings, because now I do not know if I will ever have the chance to disclose them to you."
She couldn't stop her tears from running down her face when she moved closer to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Mr. Darcy;" she sobbed, "please come back to me."
A sharp intake of breath from the gentleman startled her and made her bolt up in her chair. The, until then, inert Darcy became agitated, he swallowed and moved his head to the side, then frowned and moaned and turned it to the other side. His ashen countenance changed into a more lively hue, as if life had begun to flow inside his body once again. This unexpected rush of activity lasted for a few minutes. He moaned again, moved his head to the side, and then his breathing distinctly changed; it was deep and slow and indicated an easy repose.
Elizabeth was astonished. Astonished and happy. With tentative fingers, she touched his cheek again. This time her action was rewarded by frown and a turn of his head to the other side. She was disturbing him!
"Lizzy, what are you doing here?" Mr. Bennet asked from the door.
"Papa!" Elizabeth was so happy for the reaction she obtained from Darcy that she did not mind being found in his room. "He moved!"
"He did?" Mr. Bennet walked hastily towards the bed. "He moved indeed. He looks much more alive now. Perhaps it was your presence here what had produced such improvement. The man may have good taste after all."
"Oh Papa, you should not joke about that."
"You are right, my dear. But I needed to lighten up the mood after such a tragedy." Mr. Bennet sighed. "Who would have thought that the proud Mr. Darcy would be lying in my house in such a desperate condition?"
"But he looks much better now and he will recover. We must not lose our faith now."
"Yes, we must not." He placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her to the door. "Come, Lizzy, 'tis time to go to bed."
"May I stay a few more minutes more?" She glanced in Darcy's direction. "He might need something. Please, Papa, just until John returns." Her eyes were pleading.
"All right, I shall go for him and then you will go to bed."
"Thank you, Papa." She smiled.
As soon as her father left the room, Elizabeth returned to the gentleman's side, covering his hand with hers. "I knew you could do it. I knew it."
Darcy groaned softly and she smiled at the gesture.
"Miss Elizabeth." John walked in and noticed the change in Darcy's countenance. "Well, isn't he looking better?"
"He is." Elizabeth smiled up at the servant and stood to leave the room. "I shall leave you now. Please call me if anything happens."
"Yes, Miss."
"Good night." Though it was John who was the one who replied, her adieu was meant for another man.
Chapter 3
The were no significant changes in Darcy's condition on the day that followed. Notwithstanding, he looked better, he occasionally moved his head, but he remained unconscious the entire day. The doctor visited him in the morning and while satisfied with his improvement, he was not optimistic that the patient would make a total recovery. Certainly the change was positive but in cases as these, it was impossible to know what would happen next. He had seen men open their eyes and then die, as well as people that had remained unconscious for an entire week, only to recover as if nothing had happened.
Bingley also called on his friend that morning. His relief for this small change was evident, though he was still very concerned about Darcy's life.
Now Bingley was being faced to another predicament other that his own concerns for his friend's health. Darcy's family had yet not been informed about his situation and the unpleasantness of disclosing such dreadful news fell on him. Being an optimist by nature, Bingley refused to send a letter that only transmitted uncertainty and despair to a soul as tender as Miss Darcy's, so he decided to hold back the news for another day. If Darcy had improved so much in only two days, certainly the following one would bring even better news.
Elizabeth had not forgotten about the promise she gave to the gentleman the night before and she was certain that it had been her words that were the means to his sudden improvement. With that conviction, she went to her father and transmitted to him her intention of helping in the care of the gentleman.
Mr. Bennet first denied his permission, propriety forbade that an unmarried young lady would visit a gentleman in his chamber, but as Elizabeth enumerated the advantages of assigning the task to her, he reconsidered his refusal. Darcy's condition was so desperate that no measure was inappropriate enough to be left unconsidered. Also, with Longbourn's limited staff, the possibility that capable servants could be spared from their tasks to take care of the patient was so scarce that Mr. Bennet finally consented to Elizabeth's plea. That was how she was allowed to sit by the gentleman during the afternoons once her duties in the house were completed.
Elizabeth assumed this obligation with great determination and responsibility. She was very solicitous in the care of Darcy. She would see that he drank water with a spoon; she talked to him whenever they were alone and she would stimulate his senses by touching his hand or face on occasions. By the end of the day, the results of her diligent ministrations showed. Darcy, though still unconscious, became more active and even spoke a few unconnected words.
The night was cloudy. A storm was forming in the horizon and the cold winds that preceded the rain made her hasten her pace to the shelter. But she could not find her way back home in such dreadful darkness. There was nothing in sight, just the shadows of the trees that surrounded her with their ghostly appearance.
Desperate, she ran. She could shout for help but she knew that no one would hear her. The wind blew stronger, colder, raising leaves and dirt that twisted around her, blinding her way to safety. A flash of lightning turned everything white transforming the outlines of the trees into monstrous creatures desirous to devour her.
She ran, with no direction endeavouring to escape from this horrendous place. Exhausted, she stopped in the middle of the woods. The first raindrops of frigid rain began to fall, moistening her gown and face. She was trembling in fear and cold and she desperately looked around in search of shelter. Where was she?
"Elizabeth." A voice called her.
She turned slowly and looked at the place where the sound came from. Nothing, no one.
"Elizabeth." The voice was approaching her.
A shadow emerged from the woods. A man. He was walking towards her slowly, tall and mysterious. It was too dark to discern his features. She stepped back, scared.
"Elizabeth."
He stopped in front of her and she saw his eyes. She would recognize his eyes anywhere. Now she knew she was safe.
"Elizabeth." He smiled and extended his hand to take hers.
Elizabeth opened her eyes with a start. Her chest was heaving and her hands shaking. The dream had scared her at first but when she saw him come for her, she had felt such comfort, such safety as she had never felt in her life. How she wished she could bring the dream back!
"Elizabeth."
Once again she heard that voice. It was Darcy's, she could swear it, and this time she was not sleeping. Was he calling her?
Elizabeth kicked the blanket and headed towards Darcy's room while wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. The door was open but there was no one there but him. The servant had probably gone to the kitchen, leaving the patient alone for a while. In any other moment she would have become incensed by the servant's irresponsibility, though in this case she welcomed it for it provided her of a moment of solitude with him that she would have been otherwise deprived.
Darcy was quiet and tranquil. An occasional wince would disturb his countenance but, in general, he seemed to be resting peacefully. Elizabeth moved closer to admire his features; the delicate but masculine lines of his face, the strength of his jaw, the way he moved his lips as he breathed. He was so beautiful and yet so virile.
"Was it you calling me?" She whispered as she took his hand. "I am most certain that I heard your voice."
The hand that was securing hers tightened its hold around her fingers. He murmured something, nothing she could understand clearly and his breathing quickened. His face transmitted frustration and pain.
"Hush, I am here. Please do not distress yourself."
His sleep turned agitated. He would not ease the hold of her hand and his moans mingled with words that made no sense.
Elizabeth brushed her fingertips along his cheek. "Do not be afraid, you are not alone."
This seemed to calm him. The signs of discomfort vanished from his features and his breathing slowed. A moment later, he returned to his usual calmness. On seeing that he was sleeping comfortably again, Elizabeth adjusted the covers over his chest and kissed his cheek in a tender goodnight.
One more parting glance from the threshold and she went to her room.
"Elizabeth," he called her in his sleep.
Chapter 4
On the following morning, Bingley assisted the doctor in the task of examining Darcy, therefore giving Jane and Elizabeth a chance to converse about the matter that recent circumstances had unfortunately delayed. While the sisters prepared rose water in the still room, Jane acquainted Elizabeth with what Mr. Bingley had told her since her engagement.
"He has made me so happy," said Jane, "Mr. Bingley told me that he was completely ignorant of my being in town last spring. I felt such relief, Lizzy, for I had not believed possible for him not to call on me if he knew of it."
"I suspected as much," Elizabeth replied, not sure of what else Bingley had told her. "How did he learn about it?"
"His sisters told him, I suppose. Who else could have known that I was there? I should have known that they would not inform him of my call. I know they were not completely favourable to an acquaintance between us." Jane frowned. "But this affair has helped me to see their true nature. They are not to be trusted."
"Good gracious! What an unforgiving speech!" laughed Elizabeth. "Is this my sweet Jane talking to me?"
"Oh, Lizzy!" Jane waved her off.
"Well, now I know that you will not again be duped by Miss Bingley's pretended regard."
Jane blushed. "Would you believe it, Lizzy, if I tell you that when he went to town last November, he was already in love with me? He was persuaded of my indifference, thus his reluctance to come back again."
Elizabeth was thankful that Bingley had not betrayed his friend's confidence and did not inform Jane of Darcy's role in their separation. "He made just a little mistake but that speaks of his modesty."
For a moment, Jane remained silent and pensive. "The only thing that prevents me from being entirely happy is Mr. Darcy's condition. Charles is so grieved that I do not know how to comfort him."
Elizabeth looked away as tears threatened to pour from her eyes. "We all are."
"I admire your strength, Lizzy. I know I sound ungenerous but I am not sure I would be able to take care of someone in the way you are you are taking care of Mr. Darcy."
"Oh Jane!" Elizabeth began to cry. "I must tell you something!"
"Lizzy, what is wrong? I understand your concerns for Mr. Darcy but …"
The younger sister composed herself enough to speak. "I never told you everything that happened in Derbyshire. Mr. Darcy was very attentive to us during our visit to Pemberley. He introduced me to his sister and even invited us to dine with him at his house. During that time I almost thought that he would renew his addresses. But then your letters arrived and he learned about Lydia's elopement and I thought he would not want to continue with our acquaintance. But I was so wrong, Jane. You would never believe what he did then."
"What?"
"He went to London and found her!" She heard Jane's gasp. "All the time I was thinking that he would never want me he was in London searching for our sister! He was the one who paid Wickham's debts and produced Lydia's marriage. If we must thank someone for our restored honour, it is only him."
Jane was fixed in astonishment. She had never imagined that Darcy was the one who found Lydia. "This is so unexpected, what kindness he has bestowed on us! Poor, poor Mr. Darcy." Jane took her sister's hand. "And you, Lizzy, did you expect him to renew his addresses? I did not notice any partiality from your part during this last visit."
Elizabeth was not yet ready to confess to another human being that she was in love with Mr. Darcy. "Oh Jane, I wished I had been less missish. I did not have the chance to thank him for what he did for us and now I fear I will never will."
"He will recover, you will make him recover. Come; let us return to the house. He might be awake by now."
Elizabeth embarked on the task of bringing Darcy back to health with great determination. She was convinced that his sudden improvement had been a direct consequence of her presence and solicitousness and she would not relent in her efforts now that they were proving to be fruitful. And thither she went once Bingley returned to Jane's side.
That afternoon Elizabeth stayed several hours in the patient's room. Once again she gave him water, cleaned his face, touched the roughness of his beard and spoke comforting words for him to hear. When she was sure that he was resting comfortably, she sat in the armchair that was closer to the window and took the book that she brought to help her to pass the time. She read and became so absorbed in her book that the changes that were occurring in the man lying in bed passed unnoticed to her.
Darcy opened his eyes and blinked slowly, one, two, three times. He had used all his strength to open them but he was tenacious and finally accomplished it. But everything was foggy, blurry. After a moment, the images became clearer and a ceiling appeared in front of his eyes. A ceiling he did not know. It wasn't Pemberley's, it wasn't Netherfield's nor his London townhouse's. Where was he? What had happened? Why did his head hurt so much?
He was confused, lost, and the pain in his head and chest was so intense that it didn't allow him to think clearly. He tried to move but it was difficult, painful, so he remained still. As his vision became clearer, he realized that it was limited to one eye as something seemed to be covering the other one.
Never in his life had he felt this ill. Something very bad must have happened for him to be in such pain. He tried to remember but an untidy succession of images appeared one after the other: Elizabeth embroidering, Bingley shaking his hand, the delicate pattern of a china box, glass breaking, and that voice talking to him. Always that voice begging him to come back, telling him that he was not alone.
With great effort, he turned his head to the left to see if he could recognize his surroundings. Nothing, just furniture. He tried to the right. There was a form, someone sitting on a chair; a woman, it seemed, reading. He blinked slowly and tried to focus his eyes -his eye- on that woman. Slowly, the blurry image turned into a vision. If it weren't for the great pain he was feeling in his body, he would swear that he was in heaven. Because she was there, his beloved Elizabeth was the one sitting in that armchair. Where was he?
Darcy called her but no sound came out from his mouth. He swallowed with difficulty before trying again.
"Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth raised her eyes and saw Darcy looking at her. With a loud gasp, she dropped her book and approached the bed. "Mr. Darcy! Dear Lord, you are awake!"
It was difficult to look up at her now that she was so near so he closed his eyes and opened them again. "Where ..."
"At Longbourn, sir," she touched his arm, "you had an accident, your carriage fell over you and you were brought to Longbourn."
He swallowed again but his throat was dry. "How long ..."
"Three days." Her joy for having him conscious was immense. "You've been here for three days."
Darcy closed his eyes and nodded in understanding. Talking was too painful, looking at her was too painful so he just lay there, relishing in the comfort that her touch produced.
Elizabeth noticed the coarseness of his mouth and thought he might be thirsty. "Would you like to drink some water?"
"Yes."
She took a glass from the nightstand. As gently as she could, she raised his head to assist him. He winced at first but soon he relaxed and pausing every now and then to rest, he drank the whole glass.
"I thank you." He licked his lips and remained with his eyes closed. His right hand reached out to touch her.
"You are very welcome, sir." Elizabeth took his hand in hers. "Is there something else I can get you?"
Darcy shook his head slightly and then turned it to his right, where she was standing. In a matter of seconds, his breathing became deep and slow, telling her he had fallen asleep. Elizabeth looked at his handsome face, his expression now softened by the peace of his slumber, and touched his cheek gently. If he weren't so ill, she would swear that he was smiling. She stepped back to return to her seat but the hand that was firmly securing hers did not allow her to go much further. Gently, she placed it on his stomach.
"I am so happy that you are back," she whispered.
A deep sigh was her answer.
Part 2
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