Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (108 page)

“No . . . no, I cannot leave him.” 

“Elizabeth.”  Samuel held her hands.  “Go fetch him help, I cannot do this alone.”   He lifted her up onto the horse and gathering the long reins, put them into her hands.  “Take your time.” 

“I should go as fast as I can!”

“I do not want you to be hurt, too.”  Samuel squeezed her hand, and nodded at the drive.  “Go on.” 

“He is not dead.”  She said defiantly and nudging the horse, she began down the drive. 

Blowing his cheeks out, Samuel tethered the remaining carriage horse to a tree, then bent to touch the driver.  He was gone.  Hearing a sound from within the coach, he limped over and knocked on the roof.  “Father?” 

“Samuel?  What happened?”

“I do not know.  Something spooked the horses, I think.  Are you well?  Can you climb up on the seat?  I can pull you out.”  Carefully he climbed back onto the carriage and looked down at his father. 

“I have a lump the size of an egg.”  Judge Darcy blinked groggily, then shaking his head, climbed up, taking Samuel’s hand and with a groan joined him up top and looked around.  “Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth?” 

“Elizabeth is riding down to the house on one of our horses.  William went over the side with the curricle.”   He met his father’s eyes.

“Oh, God.” 

“I saw it down there, I . . . I do not think that he could survive.”  Samuel hung his head and missed his father clutching his breast and staring around the area, searching for any sign of Wickham and Christmas.  “What should we do, Father?  My leg is barely holding me up, and you are in no condition to climb down there.”

“We can look over the side; we can spot him and be able to direct the men to him.  Help me down.”  Samuel slid down to the ground and helped his father.  Supporting each other, Samuel led him to the cliff and there they stood.  There was no sign of life, and no sign of Darcy. 

Judge Darcy stared at the shattered remains of the carriage. “What have I done?” 

“HERE COMES THE WAGON.”  Georgiana said unnecessarily.  She and Susan flanked Elizabeth at the window, both of them had their arms around her waist, supporting her as she stood and trembled.  In the back of the wagon were two figures covered with the extra blankets Susan had placed in the carriage that morning. 

“No.”  Elizabeth sobbed.  “No . . . he cannot be gone . . . Please . . .”

At the steps, Parker waited, his eyes were red, but his chin was up.  He was determined to care for his master to the last.  He would make him as presentable as possible before Elizabeth saw him.  At his side waited Evans and the rest of the male staff. 

“No . . .  Will . . . please do not leave me.” 

Susan held her tighter and blinked away the tears streaming down her cheeks.  She looked over to Georgiana.  The girl’s expression was numb, her eyes were bright with unshed tears and she clung to Elizabeth.  Behind them stood Judy and her sister Jennifer, and Mrs. Reynolds.  They waited, prepared to care for the ladies, whatever their needs should be. 

The wagon came to a halt and men jumped down.  Something was said to the waiting staff and Evans appeared to startle.  He moved forward and drew back the blanket from the first man’s face, “Henry . . .”   He cleared his throat and stoically moved to the second.  Elizabeth watched; it did not seem real.  It could not be Fitzwilliam.  It could not . . . It could . . .

“Christmas!”  Parker stared as he stepped forward.

“Who?”  Everyone looked to him.

“Christmas . . . he was courting Mrs. Hutchins, the cook at Darcy House.  What the devil is he doing here?”  He looked at the men in the wagon.  “Where was he?”

The driver of the wagon gestured to the body.  “He was pinned beneath the coach.  Like he was standing in the road and it squashed him against a tree.  He was alive until the draft horses pulled the coach away and he just took a great breath and died.”

“Did he say anything?”  Evans asked.

“No, he was hurting pretty bad.  Nobody noticed him for a few hours.” 

“Where is Mr. Darcy?”  Parker asked.  He looked at the faces of the men as they all turned their heads silently to the hillside.  “You have not found him?”

“No, Mr. Parker.” 

“He may still be alive!”

“Nobody could survive that, sir.  They could not even reach the carriage, the slope is so steep.  And we’ve been calling with no answer.” 

Parker turned and looked up at the window and spotted Elizabeth.  She had broken free from Susan and Georgiana and was standing with her hands pressed to the glass.  Parker gestured to the bodies and shook his head, then pointed up to the ridge.

“He is not in the wagon.”  Elizabeth whispered.  She spun around; her eyes were pained but determined. 

“Elizabeth . . .” Susan began.  She could see up on the ridge, the men were clearly abandoning the effort with the sun coming down and more snow beginning to fall.  “I think that they will find him in the morning.”

“NO!”  She cried.  “NO!  My husband is still up there!”  She ran across the room and to the door, and then turned.  “If he has died, I will not allow him to lay out there in the cold, all alone.”   Tears ran down her cheeks but her chin lifted defiantly.  “And if he is still alive, I will not allow him to be lost due to . . . pessimism.  Whatever his situation my Fitzwilliam will sleep in his home, in his bed tonight, if I have to carry him to it myself!” 

“Elizabeth!”  Susan cried and ran after her.

Paying no heed, Elizabeth flew down the stairs, demanding that someone bring her a coat.  Maids came hurrying with her things and she was outside and at the wagon within five minutes.  She went right up to it and looked at the dead men.  She could not help the feeling of relief in seeing them there.

“Mrs. Darcy, you should be inside, the men are returning . . .”

“I really do not care what the men are doing, Parker.”  She sniffed and addressed Evans.  “I want another wagon, ropes, torches . . . and anyone who is willing to work to come with me.  Mr. Darcy is coming home before this day ends.”  She pulled on her gloves and glared at them.  “Now . . . move!”

“Yes, madam.”  Evans nodded to one of the footmen and he went running for the stables.  The others went to gather supplies and Parker and Evans now flanked Elizabeth as she stared determinedly at the ridge. 

“I will stay with you, madam.”  Parker said softly.  “I want to care for the master, as well.”

“He will require a hot bath when he returns.”  Elizabeth said shakily.

“And a toddy by the fire.” 

“Yes.”  She lifted her chin.  “I will not have him be cold.”

Parker pressed a handkerchief into her hand.  “Yes, madam.” 

A wagon appeared, likely the last in the stables.  Elizabeth climbed on along with Parker and several of the footmen.  The rest tended to the dead men.  They set off up the drive, and halfway there, they met the men leaving the scene. 

“Elizabeth!”  Samuel stopped.  “What are you doing?  It is getting dark.”

“I am not giving up on finding him.  You are welcome to stop your efforts, but I will not.”  She looked at Judge Darcy.  “Sir, you are ill, please go join your wife, she is desperately worried about your health.”

“No . . . no, I . . . I will stay with you, Elizabeth.”  Judge Darcy was pale and his skin was blue, but he began to rise from the bench of the wagon Samuel drove. 

“Father, you are ill.”

“No.  You need to have your leg tended to.”

“It is a sprain, nothing more.”

“You can argue amongst yourselves, I am going to find Fitzwilliam.  He is cold.”  Elizabeth nodded to the driver and snapping the reins, he urged the horses forward.

“Are you sure, Father?”  Samuel said softly.  “We do not need to bury two Darcys.”

“Thank you for the sentiment, Son, but my life is not important.”   He nodded.  “Turn us around.” 

Elizabeth’s wagon arrived at the ridge.  The draft horses were still there and the coach had been set upright.  “Why don’t you wait inside, Mrs. Darcy?”  Parker offered.

“My husband does not have that comfort.  Neither shall I.”  She walked to the edge and looked down.  The steep slope was bathed in shadows.  She looked back at the horses.  “Mr. Benson?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Darcy.”  The nervous man came forward and bowed to her.  “I am so sorry, Mrs. Darcy . . .”

“There is nothing to be sorry for yet, Mr. Benson.”  She said softly.  “Can your horses drag the curricle up the slope?”

“Yes, madam, the trouble is attaching a rope to it.  Nobody has been able to find a way down.”  He looked at her sadly, “He picked a bad place to fall.”

“He did indeed.”  Elizabeth looked around helplessly and noticed a rope tied around a tree.  “Did . . . did one of the men tie on this rope?”

“No.  I had not noticed it before.”  Samuel came limping up and looked at the shaking heads. 

“Could . . . could someone hold onto it and walk down the hill?”  Elizabeth asked.  “Shall I?”

“Mrs. Darcy!  Mr. Darcy would have our heads!”  Parker said vehemently.

“I would love to hear his fury.”  Bending she picked up the rope and held out the end to one motionless man after another.  “Here, tie it around my waist!”  She read their sad faces and desperately started to wrap the rope around her waist.  “Fine, I will do it myself . . .”

“Elizabeth, you should not be the one to find him.”  Judge Darcy spoke up quietly. 

“He is not dead!  There must be something that can be done!”  She cried and ran back to the edge. 

Samuel put his hand on her shoulder, “I am afraid that noth . . .”

She spun around.  “Has anyone tried to approach from below?”

“Below?”  They all looked at each other.  “There is no road.” 

“But there is a trail, see?”  She clutched Samuel’s hand.  “Please.  He is cold.” 

“Very well, Elizabeth.”  Samuel said resignedly, “We will try from below.” 

Signalling everyone, they all boarded the various wagons and made the journey back down the drive and turned from the gravel onto the frozen lawn until they could go no further.  The light was fading fast and the torches were lit.  Elizabeth waited for nobody, jumping down from her seat and taking off into the trees, following a trail blazed by countless deer.  Judge Darcy remained with the wagons, and Samuel tried to keep up with his cousin but could not possibly move faster than a slow walk.  Elizabeth was in her element, travelling unerringly forward, she neither stumbled nor hesitated over the uneven and unfamiliar ground.  Occasionally she looked up, using the precariously placed curricle as her guide and finally arrived at the bottom of the steep slope, accompanied by a group of panting men. 

She scanned the shadowy ridge.  “Fitzwilliam!” 

Samuel arrived and seeing the men looking at each other uncomfortably, closed his eyes for a minute and joined her.  “William!”

Parker added his voice, “Mr. Darcy!” 

After a chorus of calling, their voices fell silent.  Elizabeth whispered, “Help me, dear man.”  

Gently, Samuel put his arm around her shoulder.  “Elizabeth, I am so sorry . . .”

“Lizzy.” 

“Fitzwilliam?”  She broke away and took a step forward, praying that the barely audible voice was not her imagination.  Seeing Samuel’s wide eyes, she knew that he had heard it, too.  “Will?  Call to me sweetheart, help us to find you!”  Shushing the excited men, she listened. 

“Lizzy . . .  I can see you.”  Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth.  “Look up, dearest.” 

All eyes moved up the slope, but there was no sign of him.  Darcy managed to pull out his pocket watch.  The flames from the torches reflected off the case, and in the twilight, everyone could see the flash.  Instantly, a dozen men were climbing the hillside.  Samuel stood behind Elizabeth, both hands held her shoulders and squeezing so hard that she was in pain, and she did not care.  Back at the wagon, Judge Darcy heard the news with stunned disbelief.  Men who were frozen and dog tired raced to gather blankets and tied them together into a makeshift litter.  A cacophony of conversations erupted about how to extricate Darcy from the spot where he was wedged and then how to carry him out without causing more damage.  When Judge Darcy heard the distant cheer through the trees, he sat alone and wept. 

 Darcy at last was brought to Elizabeth’s side.  She knelt  beside him and clasped his frozen hands.  “I knew that you were still with me.”

“I knew that you would save my life, you promised me.”  Darcy whispered hoarsely, closing his eyes with the touch of her lips and tear-streaked cheek on his battered face.  “I love you.”

“I love you.”  She rose to her feet and holding his hand, she walked alongside the men carrying him and climbed up into the wagon, tucking blankets securely around his body as he began to shake.  “Will . . .” 

“I am fine darling.”  His lips lifted in his little smile and he closed his eyes.  Darcy winced with every bump and rattle, but he did not let go of the tight grip he had on Elizabeth’s hand, or protest her gentle brushes against his swollen face.  “Thank you.”

Chapter 33

“H
ere you are, madam.”  Judy spoke quietly and handed Elizabeth two newly filled hot water bottles wrapped in flannel.  “Is there anything else?”

“No, I think that will be fine, thank you.  How is Miss Darcy?”

“Jennifer said that she had a difficult night.  She has breakfasted and I understand that she has taken up her sewing now.  Jennifer will check on her when she finishes her duties, she was more of a companion to her last lady, and it comes naturally to her.” 

“That is very kind of her, and I am glad to know that my sister is occupying herself.”  Elizabeth rubbed her temple and the dull ache that a sleepless night brought, and rested back against the headboard.  “Please let her know that I will come by to see her as soon as I can.  I am sure that she is concerned for her brother and will want to visit him.”

“I think that she will understand your delay, madam.”  Judy smiled and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. 

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a few minutes, and hearing the clock chime gently, looked around the dark room.  A small beam of sunlight shone through a crack in the draperies and she sighed, she should have asked Judy to open them before she left.