Chapter 27-29 The Miracles of Marriage

“You must have a spare axle,” Mr. Darcy argued with the poor innkeeper at The Gray Sheep, the last inn he hardly ever stopped at before his home at Pemberley. Ten miles behind them, the Darcy carriage had hit a rut and the front axle had snapped in two. Luckily, no man or horse was seriously injured as the carriage had been travelling slowly to accommodate the rough road conditions. 

Mr. Darcy, Dr. Matthews, and Simmons had mounted horses to ride to the next inn in Kympton. But after pulling the carriage and riding the ten miles, the beasts were spent and turned into the stables for rest.

“Do you have any additional horses?” Dr. Matthews asked, and again the innkeeper shook his head.

“The horses we have just arrived, not one hour before you. We hoped to have them rested for you to exchange your team, Mr. Darcy, so you could continue home.

Home. The word rang in Darcy’s ears as they were but four miles from the post of his drive. Then another mile after that. A measly 5 miles stood between him and his Elizabeth and he was running out of options to reach her.

“Well, it appears we are staying the night in Kympton,” Dr. Matthews tried to say enthusiastically, but Darcy held a strange glint in his eye.

“What say you if we walk?” Mr. Darcy asked, feeling his wife’s voice in his head talk to him about how small a distance of a few miles truly was.

Dr. Matthews did not seem convinced. 

“How far are we from Pemberley?” Dr. Matthews asked, and Mr. Darcy smiled.

“If we take the road, five miles. But as the crow flies, I believe we can do it in three.”

With little choice but to follow his employer, both Dr. Matthews and Simmons accepted the innkeeper’s assistance of pouches of wine and a loaf of bread each. A message was sent back to the carriage that an axle would be brought in a few hours and then the carriage and wagon would stop at Kympton for the night. But for the merry band of three men, they would carry on by foot.

The first mile felt rather invigorating. The three men tramped through the autumn forests as close to the road as possible, only daring to cut across property Mr. Darcy knew to belong to the church. They swapped stories of their boyhood adventures and how when younger, they had never hesitated to take some grand detour off in whichever direction they chose.

“I’m afraid to say, I received such a chastisement for that one, I can assure you. For not only had I left when my mother had given me chores to do, I lost my way and spent the night in some barn before finding my way again in the morning,” Dr. Matthews shared, and the men laughed.

By the second mile, they had changed to discussing politics. Mr. Darcy explained to Dr. Matthews some of the challenges facing his family with Wickham’s death, and his old friend allowed Darcy to vent his spleen. Instead of offering possible solutions to the puzzle, Dr. Matthews was merely supportive of Mr. Darcy’s handling thus far, and encouraging that his cousin and uncle in London would likely find more information than if he had stayed.

They were out of stories and pleasant topics to discuss by the third mile. The exercise of walking such a distance after the stress of travel and riding horses drained the energy reserves of each man. Their wine was gone, and the terrain had become uphill in a most extreme angle. Every few steps, one man’s boot would lose his footing, and he’d have to scramble with his hands to keep on pace.

When at last they reached the top of the hill, Darcy gave a big sigh of relief as he could clearly see the twisty road winding up the hill to the very point where it crested when he and Elizabeth had arrived at the beginning of the summer. The sun had passed more than three quarters of the sky as the days grew shorter. Dr. Matthews took off first in an easy downhill jog towards the grand house they could see spread before them. Not to be outdone, Simmons and Mr. Darcy similarly joined him, and all was well until they reached the bottom of the hill. That was when Dr. Matthews took a horrific spill. 

The man yelled out, and Simmons and Darcy hurried to his side, unclear of what he had injured with the way he had somersaulted.

“Of all stupidity and irrationality!” Dr. Matthews began to shout. Darcy found his choice of expletives rather odd. 

Dr. Matthews continued, “Throbbing pain and loss of feeling, I fear I have broken my ankle, but I hope I have merely sprained it.”

Darcy and Simmons looked at one another, and then at the long drive to Pemberley. Without a word, Mr. Darcy went around the backside of Dr. Matthews, and hoisted him up so that he could stand upon one foot. 

Arm in arm, from Mr. Darcy the tallest to Dr. Matthews of a middling height and poor Simmons scarcely over five feet tall, they hobbled up the drive looking like band of misfits beleaguered by some battle. The boy at the gate house ran for the front door as he recognized his master, and a small cart reached them before they had halfway finished the distance to the front steps.

“Well Mr. Darcy, I suppose I should be grateful that I have your hospitality for so long, for I fear I would be an imposition,” Dr. Matthew said, gritting his teeth as he continued to babble on to avoid thinking about the pain.

“How does one doctor themselves?” Mr. Darcy asked, and Dr. Matthews laughed.

“Oh, we are the worst patients. For my mind races to all of the dangers one small accident can bring, when more than likely it is nothing more than a slight sprain and I will be on my feet in a week’s time.

Mr. Darcy licked his lips as the wagon drew closer to the front door, the irony was not lost on him that poor Dr. Matthews was injured, thankfully not so grievously as Elizabeth had been when he had nearly run her over with his horse Alexander, but injured in a similar manner as he arrived at Pemberley. He knew his wife would find the humor in the circumstances, even if she would feel great sympathy for the man.

When the wagon arrived, Mr. Darcy and Simmons helped poor Dr. Matthews down from the wagon, but two footmen came to help him up the stairs.

“Well, Simmons, at least we made it home,” Mr. Darcy said with a smile as he spied various inhabitants milling around the door at his arrival. Then Mr. Darcy’s smile fell when it was Lady Matlock who greeted him, and not his wife.

“Where’s Elizabeth?”