Elizabeth stepped out of the way as John Lucas grasped the stranger’s legs and carried him out of the cart with Mr. Bennet. The commotion in the front garden brought all four of the other Bennet sisters down though only the eldest, Jane and the middle daughter, Mary, were fully dressed to be seen by others. Crowding the stairs, the girls created an obstacle as Mr. Bennet was beginning to groan under such weight.

“Girls, move!” he shouted as Elizabeth rushed forward to grab one of the stranger’s shoulders to help her father steady the man. Together, the three of them carried him up the stairs to the guest room overlooking the front of the home.

Mr. Bennet began removing the man’s boots and clothing before Elizabeth had a chance to vacate, but she wasn’t able to stay much longer as her mother incessantly called her out to the hall.

“Where on earth did you get off to, young lady? I gave you instructions to rest, but oh no, you go get yourself covered in mud and who knows what else the second I turn my back…”

“Mama, Lizzie saved a man. Oh, how romantic! Now you can fall in love, and marry, and he’ll owe you his life!” Lydia, the youngest Bennet sister, interrupted their mother with her shrill voice and laughter.

Mrs. Bennet paused and looked at Lydia, clearly not realizing the implications of Elizabeth’s actions. Elizabeth grew alarmed at the sudden smile on her mother’s face and struggled to get away.

She bowed her head quickly to her mother and muttered she would hurry to bathe for the assembly.

“You shall do no such thing! You will remain here tonight to nurse that man back to health. You’ll never be ready in time, regardless.” Mrs. Bennet dismissed her least favorite daughter with a satisfied humming sound and began shooing Lydia down the hall to her bedroom to help her with preparations.

Running to her room, Elizabeth closed the door forcefully and crumpled to the floor. She was finally safe to release all of the fear, guilt, and sadness she felt and try to recover from such an overwhelming afternoon. As her tears fell, slowly the stress and tension throughout her body poured out with them. She was surprised to start feeling stiff and sore throughout her joints. Taking a deep breath she resolved to collect herself and see if her father needed help. And despite what her mother said, she was going to call for a bath because she smelled worse than the Lucas’ pig sty!

Long after her sisters and mother had left, she took a fresh bath and ate a light supper. Thanks to the hot water boiled for the man upstairs, Hill was even able to give her a warm tub. Elizabeth finally braved her father’s study to inquire how the man upstairs fared. She knocked gently on the door a few times.

“Lord Lizzie, just come in.” Her father was at his desk reading the post and drinking port. Demurely, Elizabeth slipped in and quietly seated herself in her normal seat in the window. The night was brilliantly illuminated by the silver glow of the moon above and she began to wish she had attended the assembly as she dearly loved to dance.

“No long faces in here if you please.”

“Papa, how is the man upstairs? Is it so very bad?”

Mr. Bennet downed his glass of port and stood up to pour himself another. The walls of his study were lined with bookshelves but there was a gap where he had pulled all his medical journals down for today’s catastrophe.

“Elizabeth, do you know the man you saved?” Mr. Bennet sighed as he returned to his chair and then proceeded to place his spectacles on to examine another letter of correspondence.

Confused, Elizabeth shook her head. “No, papa. I’ve never met him.”

“Hm, perhaps he has a sister named Elizabeth, then.”

Elizabeth’s heart quickened and she took an audible breath and blushed. Was this man saying her name? It couldn’t be, she had never met him before and this was not one of her novels lying in a pile next to the bed.

“He said,” she swallowed the nervousness pooling in her mouth, “he said my name?”

Mr. Bennet leaned back and folded his glasses again and placed them on his desk. He took a long look at his daughter before answering. “Why don’t you tell me again the story of you finding the poor chap?”

Elizabeth pulled her knees up and tucked them under her dress, wrapping her arms around them. She recounted how she was just about to return home when the horse came running out of the woods, alone with no rider. She explained how once she started to think about it, she never should have started searching for the rider by herself and just when she was about to abandon her attempt, she heard the moan. On and on she went, telling her father all of her fears and how she nearly gave up many times.

As Elizabeth continued her story to the point where she mounted the horse, her father stopped her.

“Aha! There you go, you said it. You told him your name before you left him to find me.”

Elizabeth’s mouth hung open in shock as she realized indeed she had told the man her name. She closed it again and burned with shame as she also remembered how she touched his cheek, but managed to leave that part of her story for herself.

“It seemed natural at the time, Papa. In case he woke up.” Elizabeth sat upright and let her legs dangle from the window seat again as her father began chuckling good-naturedly.

“Well daughter, thanks to your efforts, your patient upstairs happened to utter your name while your mother was in the room and by now, the whole town has heard. You may very well have just become the richest woman in the neighborhood!”

Elizabeth was aghast that her father would laugh at her, and worse that he would insinuate she would be forced to marry just because she happened to come upon a man after a horse riding accident! It was preposterous! With nothing more to tell, Elizabeth stood up and quit her father’s study to return upstairs.

She paused in the hallway before making her decision on whether to just go to bed when a polite knocking on the door surprised her. Well, polite in the tremor of the knock, but certainly not the hour. Deciding if the person on the other side could disobey the rules of propriety by visiting in the middle of the night, she could very well answer the door herself.

After a polite bow, a smiling man of fair features greeted Elizabeth from the doorway.

“I am your newest neighbor in town, Charles Bingley, at your service. I believe a guest and very good friend of mine is ill in your home. Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

“How did you hear he was here?” She didn’t intend on sounding so suspicious, but she didn’t recognize the man and she wasn’t going to put the stranger in anymore danger. Mr. Bennet, hearing the front door shake the wall shared with his study, appeared behind Elizabeth.

“Mr. Bingley! I wondered if the man we found belonged to you!” Mr. Bennet shook Bingley’s hand, having met him two days earlier while dealing with a tenant on the border of Netherfield and Longbourn.

Blushing, Bingley entered the home and gripped his hat in his hands.

“We searched all evening for him when he never returned from his afternoon ride. I attended the assembly to see if anyone had seen a sign of him or perhaps where he rode to. It’s a bit like Darcy to take solitary rides in the countryside, but unfortunately, unlike his home county, no one knows him here. As soon as Mrs. Bennet talked about a horse riding accident and a stranger in her guest room, I boarded my carriage to come directly here. Please forgive the late hour.”

Mr. Bennet nodded and offered Bingley something strong to drink, but he politely declined until after he could see to his friend. Dutifully, Elizabeth escorted him to Mr. Darcy’s sickroom.

Mister Darcy. Mister Darcy. The name weighed on Elizabeth’s mind as she had so far only considered the man upstairs as just the gentleman, a man with no name, a mystery. The situation felt less like a novel now that he suddenly had an identity, but at least it ruled out complications if his injuries caused amnesia.

As Elizabeth skipped the second to last stair near the top, Mr. Bingley missed her example and a loud creak broke the silence causing Elizabeth to jump out of her own thoughts. Pausing in the hallway, she wasn’t sure how to prepare Mr. Bingley for what his friend must look like. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she held the candle in her right hand and her left hand rested on the knob. Finally, she looked over her shoulder to address Mr. Bingley.

“He, I mean, Mr. Darcy might appear a little pale.” Elizabeth grimaced as Bingley nodded that he understood.

The door creaked open to a thrashing, sweat covered man on the bed before them! Elizabeth ran to place the candle on the nightstand before immediately feeling Darcy’s forehead. With both hands, she cupped his face, only to let go with haste.

“He’s burning up. Go alert my father!” Elizabeth peered at the anguished face of Mr. Darcy and bit her lip. “HILL!” she shouted out the door, causing the maid to nearly knock Mr. Bingley over on the stairs. Elizabeth leaned out of the bedroom and shouted a command for her to bring up the coldest bowl of water as soon as she was able.

Before returning to the guest room, Elizabeth dashed into her own bedroom and raised the floor board beneath her bed. A crude box from her uncle’s warehouse resided in her secret hiding place which she hastily opened. Inside were a number of bandages and home remedies Elizabeth had used countless times to tend her own injuries, mostly to keep her mother unaware how dangerous her walks and rambles truly were. She grabbed a number of clean cloths and the strongest brew of willow bark draught in her possession and rushed back to the man. No, not man, Mr. Darcy.

The patient remained unchanged as Elizabeth prepared the small cup with a healthy dose of the draught. Ideally, Mr. Darcy would drink this in his tea, but she’d have to make do.

“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy, sir, it’s Elizabeth Bennet again. I’m here to help you, sir.” She made her voice sound as calm and melodic as she could, and felt a small cheer in her breast as the man calmed in response.

“There you go.” She reached out to stroke his arm, making sure it was his left one, and not the injured right, only instead of remaining calm, Mr. Darcy began to thrash again. “Now, none of that!”

Hill appeared with the basin of cool water and Elizabeth motioned for her to place it on the bedside table and to help her restrain him. Both women grasped the chest and arms of Mr. Darcy as Elizabeth held the cuptenaciously over his mouth to try to keep it from spilling. Despite placing the cup to his lips, the feverish, unconscious man refused to drink.

Looking to Hill and seeing the maid nod, Elizabeth blew a breath up to move her hair out of her face. “Ready?” Hill grasped the man with more gusto and Elizabeth held Mr. Darcy’s nose closed with her hand. At the man’s first great breath, Elizabeth dumped the draught into his mouth, released his nose, and clamped her hand on his jaw to force it to stay closed. She waited and prayed she didn’t just drown the man but his Adam’s apple clearly moved up and down, signaling he was swallowing.

“Thank you. See, it’s not so bad to take one’s medicine.” Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, gathering her strength from the test of wills with a stubborn, unconscious man.

“Remove your hands from Mr. Darcy this instant!”

Elizabeth looked up at the doorway to see an unfamiliar woman stride into the room with more feathers on her head than a peacock.

“Pardon me, but you are?”

With a look of great scorn, the woman identified herself as Caroline Bingley, sister to Charles and dearest friend to the Darcy family. Elizabeth shrugged and reached for the cloths Hill had soaked in the cold water. She turned her back to the woman and carefully pressed them to Mr. Darcy’s forehead and neck area that she could reach.

“I told you to stop! How dare you sit beside Mr. Darcy in his sickbed and touch his person!” Caroline shrieked and actually grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. Hill took a step forward in defense of her mistress, only for Elizabeth to take care of the situation herself.

“Miss Bingley, touch MY person one more time and they will be removing those feathers from your nose!” Elizabeth pulled her arm free causing Miss Bingley to stumble backwards a few steps.

“You harlot! I know your type, trying to claim Mr. Darcy for your own. Well, we’ll just see about this!” Caroline hissed and stormed out of the room.

Elizabeth lifted the first round of cloths and handed them back to Hill before accepting another round. She carefully placed the cloths on his skin and watched as his restlessness seemed to slow. She could hear raised voices down below and did not need anyone to announce that Miss Bingley must have ridden home from the assembly with her own family.

Heavy footsteps Elizabeth recognized as her father’s could be heard coming up the stairs, but Elizabeth continued to nurse Mr. Darcy. With her back to the door, she could sense when her father was standing there and kept up her charade of pretending ignorance.

He cleared his throat, yet still Elizabeth refused to tear her eyes from the face of Mr. Darcy.

“Elizabeth. I believe it is time for you to retire for the evening.” Her father used a tone she rarely heard, the one that made it clear he would brook no disagreement.

“But father, he is so feverish! Please.” Elizabeth waited a moment before looking at her father with all of her fears for this man in her eyes. Her father’s features softened and she thought at first she had triumphed. Instead, he pointed at Hill.

“Others can apply cold compresses. Come, you need your rest and Mr. Darcy will remain here tonight. If you are up to it, perhaps tomorrow his fever will have broken and you can read to him.” Mr. Bennet held out his hand to his daughter as she took it and rose from the bed. He embraced her hand with both of his own in affection and leaned forward to kiss the back of her head as she quit the room to retire.

Once she was alone in the bedroom she shared with Jane, who was not sent to bed like a misbehaving youth, she slipped into her nightgown with one thought on her mind. Damn that Caroline Bingley!

~~~♥~~~