My head ached, and my entire body felt as though I had been kicked out of a carriage and rolled roughly down a rocky hill.
I struggled to open my eyes, and realized that I did not recognize the room in which I was currently in—nor the nightgown that I wore.
What had happened?
“Oh— Oh, dear—”
“Now, now, Miss,” a kindly older woman appeared at my side. “You just lie back. Dr. Mason says that you must rest. You struck your head quite hard when you fell.”
“When I fell—” I murmured. “The mare—”
“Safely tucked away in our stables,” the woman said. “You were most fortunate that my master found her and came into the woods to look for her rider. He found you in a most perilous situation, indeed!”
“I— I see—” embarrassment coursed through me as I remembered that I had lost my balance and fallen from the mare’s back as she ran through the woods. “The storm—”
“It has not quite run its course,” the woman said. “But the rain has tapered off somewhat. Are you warm enough?”
“I— Yes. I thank you,” I managed.
“Good! Now, I’ll just fetch a cool cloth for your brow, and put another log on the fire. Dr. Mason left me with strict instructions to bring down your fever and keep you as warm as possible. How the poor man keeps such things in order is beyond me, but I shall not fail in my duty!”
The woman bustled off, as though I were in the midst of a routine illness and that my life had not very recently been in danger. My arm was bandaged, wrapped in strips of white linen that felt stiff to the touch, I could only guess that the fabric had been starched to keep the limb somewhat immobile.
I pressed gently at it, testing for broken bones, but though every spot hurt, nothing felt out of place.
The older woman introduced herself as Mrs. Reynolds as she returned to the room and laid a cool cloth on my forehead. The pounding of my headache eased somewhat as I sank back onto the pillows and watched her bustle about the room.
I lay there, feeling the cool cloth on my forehead, listening to the sounds of the storm outside, and wondered what might have happened if the mysterious master of this estate had not noticed me sprawled in the mud.
"I have informed my master that you are awake," she said briskly as she laid another log upon the fire that crackled in the hearth.
"Oh-- May I ask, who is he? What is this estate?"
"This is Pemberley," the woman said proudly. "And my master is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. His sister, Georgiana, is a few years younger than you, but she is not here at the moment."
"Oh."
I had hoped for some female companionship in my convalescence, but if--
"And Mrs. Darcy?"
Mrs. Reynolds smiled, somewhat sadly it seemed. "There is no Mrs. Darcy as yet," she said. "But I do hope that one day I shall see these corridors filled with laughter once more."
"Indeed," I murmured.
I heard footsteps in the corridor and tried to sit up straighter, but Mrs. Reynolds clucked and pushed me gently back onto the pillows.
“I trust that you are not too uncomfortable?” A gentleman's voice, warm and curious echoed in the room.
In the doorway, a tall gentleman with dark hair that curled over the collar of his jacket regarded me with a curious gaze. His dark eyes swept over me and lingered on the bandage on my arm.
"Not broken?"
"I do not think so," I replied.
"I am glad to hear it. Dr. Mason seems confident that you will be recovered very soon and will be able to return to your home."
“I— I must thank you,” I said. “You saved my life.”
“Nonsense,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I only did what anyone would have done.”
“It is more than that," I said. "You came to look for me... If you had not--"
I did not want to say that no one would have found me, but the truth of it was clear enough to us both.
“You are very welcome,” he said, still looking down on me with a curious gaze. "But let us say no more about that. Tell me, who are you, and how did you come to be in the woods in such a storm?"
"My name is Elizabeth Bennet. I am from Hertfordshire... but I am staying with my aunt's cousin at Silverwood Estate."
His eyes widened. "Hertfordshire... I cannot say that it is a part of the country that I have visited. I do, however, know of the Silverwood Estate. I shall send a note immediately so that they know where you are and will tell them not to worry for your safety."
"Thank you," I said, with a small smile of gratitude.
"Though you have not said how you came to be in such a storm. It was not weather for a casual afternoon ride.The storm was quite fierce."
"Indeed," I replied. "It swept over me without warning," I said. "I have never seen such a storm. It seemed as though it had come out of nowhere."
"Were you traveling with a companion?" he asked.
"I was... Miss Claudia Darrow."
"I am surprised that they did not send anyone to search for you. You have been at Pemberley for three days now."
I bit my lip. Had it really been so long? Why had they not come to look for me?
"But the storm has been raging these last days, so you must not blame them," he said as though he could read my thoughts.
"Is there anyone else you would like to write to?" he asked kindly.
"Yes," I replied immediately. "My sister. If it would not be too much trouble. I should like to let her know what happened, she will have been expecting me to return to Hertfordshire within a few days, she does not know that I was to stay on at Silverwood for another fortnight."
"Mrs. Reynolds will see that you have a writing desk," he said with a smile. "When you are feeling well enough, you will be welcome in the parlor. My friend from London, Mr. Charles Bingley, and his sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, are also staying here, and they would be very pleased to meet you. I must admit they are quite curious about you. As was I."
His last words drew a surprised flush to my cheeks as I clutched at the embroidered coverlet.
"You have been very kind," I murmured.
"Come now, Sir," Mrs. Reynolds said, "you must allow her to rest. Dr. Mason would scold you like a schoolboy if he knew you were here."
"Of course," he chuckled. "Rest well, Miss Bennet. I do hope that we can speak again soon."
"As do I," I said and then felt instantly foolish as my cheeks heated once more.
Mrs. Reynolds chuckled as she pulled the coverlet up higher and patted my knee.
"I shall bring a writing desk," she said. "And you may write to your sister. We shall see that your letter is delivered."
"I thank you," I said. "You are very kind."
It was several days before the kindly Dr. Mason informed me that I was well enough to entertain company, the injury to my head had been slight, and my wrist was only sprained. The cut on my hand was beginning to heal, though it looked terrifying under its bandages.
Dr. Mason had apologized that I would have a scar, but reasoned that young ladies shouldn’t have to worry about such things when wearing gloves in polite company. It seemed a flippant sort of reassurance, but it would have to be enough. My sisters and mother would have to forgive the blemish on my skin, but no one else would need to know.
Claudia was kind enough to send a letter to say how worried she had been, but she also mentioned that I would be in safe hands at Pemberley, and I wondered if I was imagining the teasing tone of her voice when it came to her mention of Mr. Darcy as one of the finest gentlemen in all of Derbyshire… Such a thing did not much matter to me.
Mrs. Reynolds was kind enough to bring me items from Mr. Darcy's sister's wardrobe that she had left behind. She apologized that they were not the latest fashions from London, but I had spent years in re-hemmed gowns with re-sewn sleeves and ribbons, and Georgiana Darcy's cast-off gowns were a luxury I did not expect to enjoy so much.
Dressed in a pale blue gown made of a finer material than I had ever possessed in my own wardrobe, I sat still while a maid deftly curled and arranged my hair into a style that was more befitting a daughter of a wealthy household than someone like me... It looked well, I could not deny it, but it felt somewhat disingenuous to be wearing another young lady's finery in a house that was not my own.
But I was a guest here, and I could not argue with my treatment. It was lovely... but it could not last forever.
Indeed, my idyllic impression of Pemberley was changed the moment I entered the parlor on Pemberley's main floor.
An elegant young woman dressed in a bright green gown sat on a plushly upholstered velvet couch across from another woman in a dark blue gown. They both wore countless pieces of jewellery and their hairstyles were elegant and regal. I could not imagine dressing in such finery for something as mundane as sitting down to tea on a Thursday afternoon.
Two tea settings had been placed in the room. One on a table near the gentlemen who read newspapers near the crackling fire, and one before the two women.
"Ah, Miss Eliza Bennet, I presume," the woman in green exclaimed. She rose from the couch in a fluid motion and approached me as a cat might approach a mouse.
"Caroline," the other woman said. "You must give her a chance to sit down. We have heard all about you, Miss Bennet. All the way from Hertfordshire, is it? How quaint."
It was clear that I was not going to be introduced to the other women, so I could only guess that the younger of the two was Miss Caroline Bingley, and the elder was Mrs. Hurst.
I curtseyed as was proper, but Caroline merely rolled her eyes in response as she returned to her seat upon the couch.
"You must forgive my sister," Mrs. Hurst said. "Please, come and sit down. I wish to hear all about you and your life in Hertfordshire."
I did as instructed and took a seat upon a chair directly across from Caroline Bingley, who regarded me with an icy stare.
I looked down at the tea service in an attempt to distract myself. A teacup and saucer had been set out for me, and my stomach tightened at the sight of a plate of sweet pastries and shortbread. Was I even hungry?
"Mr. Darcy tells us that your arrival at Pemberley was most harrowing," Mrs. Hurst began. She leaned forward to pour me a cup of tea and I smiled gratefully.
"The storm was, indeed, very frightening," I said. "I was racing my friend, Claudia--"
"Racing?" Caroline snorted. "How unladylike! You were not even dressed for riding! How did such a thing happen?"
"It was quite accidental," I said.
"You seem prone to such things," Caroline observed.
I frowned at her.
What was she implying?
"I am not as confident a rider as my companion," I said.
"That is what I might have expected," Caroline said with a smile that seemed more mocking than genuine. "I would have thought you were more of the type to sit at home, reading a book."
"What does my love of horses have to do with my reading habits, pray tell," I asked.
"Though I do not know you, Miss Eliza, it is quite easy to make assumptions. How old are you?"
"One-and-twenty," I replied.
"And how many sisters have you?"
"Four."
"Goodness," she exclaimed. "And are any of them married? Surely the eldest must be by now..."
"No," I replied.
Caroline's mouth pinched. "A pity. It is well known that a young lady with fine eyes and a sharp wit might secure herself a husband with ease, unless of course there is some other defect in her personality..."
Mrs. Hurst looked between us with alarm. "Now, Caroline, Miss Bennet is a guest here at Pemberley. I should like to know more about what brought you here!"
"Indeed," the gentleman seated by the fire snapped his newspaper shut and jumped to his feet. "Have you not heard, Louisa, Mr. Darcy's rescue of Miss Bennet was most dramatic. You would not think so to hear him tell it, but I found it quite harrowing!"
I was somewhat taken aback by the gentleman's enthusiasm. He began to pace the room, waving his hands as he spoke.
"Imagine! The storm, the horse stumbling... and then, after falling, Miss Bennet was bleeding profusely, lying in the mud unconscious. If Mr. Darcy had not found her horse and come back to find her... Well. And then he brought her back to Pemberley, riding at breakneck speed through the forest and across the fields in the driving rain before he carried her into the house. A most dramatic story, indeed, would you not agree?!"
"Oh, Charles," Caroline said with a roll of her eyes. "You are always telling some story of some horrid adventure. And how much of it is actually true?"
"It is all true," Mr. Darcy said from the fireside. He did not look up from his paper, but my cheeks warmed as he spoke. "Though Charles does tell it with a good deal more enthusiasm than might be required."
"I say, that is not true at all," Mr. Bingley exclaimed. "Her life was in danger! I shudder to think of what might have happened if you did not discover her mare wandering near the wood!"
"Ah, Charles," Darcy said with a shrug, "there is no need to exaggerate. It was just a mare... and Dr. Mason confirmed that Miss Bennet's injury was not that severe."
"Still, you saved her life," Mr. Bingley cried, "you were a true hero!"
Darcy shook his head, unwilling to accept such praise. "The credit belongs to the animal. I did what any man should have done."
"I daresay I would have done the same if I had found a beautiful young woman in the woods," he said with a sigh. "Although I might have been tempted to declare myself as a suitor for her hand had I known of her injury."
It was difficult not to laugh, for Mr. Bingley was so endearing and enthusiastic in his exclamations, much to the disdain of his sisters, which made it all the more amusing.
"Of course!" Caroline said sharply. "And then you would have been out in the rain in your nightclothes and your slippers, hunting for some wayward mare in the hopes that it would lead you to a bride!"
"And you would still find some reason to find fault with her," Charles retorted.
A tense silence fell over the parlor and I wished very much that I could just sink into the chair and disappear from it all.
"So, Miss Bennet. Five sisters all in one household, however does your mother manage?"
Grateful for a small distraction, I answered as best I could. The truth was uncomfortable, for my mother did not manage anything. We managed ourselves, but that was not a topic for polite conversation, especially with strangers.
"Is there a militia garrison in Hertfordshire," Caroline interjected.
"There is, indeed," I replied. "In Meryton, the town that is closest to our house there is a very active garrison. They winter in Hertfordshire and then march south to Brighton for the summer months."
"How thrilling for a house with five daughters," she said smoothly. "The soldiers do look so handsome in their uniforms, do they not?"
"I had not noticed," I replied, "though my younger sisters would be hard-pressed to deny their interest in the young officers who come to town."
"Indeed." Caroline's smile was catlike and I did not like it one bit.
"And is there much society to be had?" she asked.
"Some. There are balls and assemblies, and my mother's friends are starting to show an interest in starting a salon for the young ladies of Hertfordshire to show off their accomplishments."
"And what are your accomplishments, Miss Eliza?" she purred. "We all know that you are not a horsewoman."
"I--"
I could not think of how to answer the question, which seemed more mocking than inquisitive.
Thankfully, I was spared giving a reply by the arrival of Mrs. Reynolds who carried a handful of letters. Two of them, as it happened, were for me, and I could not stop the small cry of joy that burst from my lips to see Jane's delicate handwriting.
At last. A reply.