From Pemberley to Paradise, page 3
And here she was—her interest completely engaged and yet incapable of finding an answer. She was sure her mother would have died if she found out her Lizzy turned down a proposal from one of the richest men they knew. But her father would approve any decision she might take. He had confidence in her…yet, what if this confidence was not justified and she had done a foolish thing by refusing.
She imagined sleeping near a man…How was she supposed to choose him and—most important—where to find him. The wedding was a splendid occasion, all those guests coming, maybe among them she would find the love she was waiting for. And then again she wondered how much time she could permit to wait for love and when in the future she would have to make a decision and marry without love. It was the reason she was angry with the heiress from St Albans. Strangely and selfishly she considered Darcy to be her property, a man she could always find willing to marry her…however, that turned out to be wrong. Once rejected by Elizabeth, Darcy was free to find another woman without worrying about her. She was tempted to go to Darcy in the morning and say “I like you very much; I respect you and I think we could be a happy couple; I accept your proposal…”
However, she was not prepared yet to make such a commitment. At least not while she could meet strangers, like a certain Mr Watford, who kept on glancing at her all through dinner and even exchanged some words with her.
“He is not a stranger, my dear,” Jane told her at the end of the dinner, “he is the son of one of Papa’s friends, from his youth, they have a nice estate near St Albans and coincidentally he is also a friend of the Bingley family.”
Elizabeth smiled, observing how some of them could find happiness near the same St. Albans.
“He just finished his studies at Oxford,” the colonel told Elizabeth and Jane, seeing their interest.
Splendid—Elizabeth thought—the young Watford is intelligent and educated and he has a bright smile, offered mostly to me. There is still hope of finding love.
Chapter 3
Elizabeth fell asleep transported by Mr Watford’s real smile, into a dream that took place on Netherfield’s lawn; Jane was already married, kissing her husband before all the gathering while she, Elizabeth, was searching for a man among the crowd on the grass. Someone looking like young Watford was coming towards her, smiling, but there were so many people he could hardly get to her. She fell in love with every step he took toward her. Finally, he bowed and took her hand to dance.
They were in a ballroom, dancing at first, then he kissed her in a way she had never been kissed before. It was a magic night, she could feel the winds from outside, but the next moment she found herself alone in a room, in a bed, near him. She could not see him but knew what was going to happen. The world was a perfect place, yet discomfort overcame her. There was something wrong about her relationship with this man…she searched in her memory when, finally, she remembered…she was already married to Darcy.
Regret invaded her, as she was torn apart by the pain of finding love and being the wife of another man. The situation was so upsetting that she began to cry and scream; she could not breathe anymore. Meanwhile, other people were screaming, she heard her name called repeatedly; however, she thought it was still the dream which she did not want to end.
From downstairs came real screams and voices, but she was so dumbfounded that she could not discern reality from the dream. She remembered the ballroom and her lover and the people around screaming…she kept on wondering why the dream looked like the real world. She was coughing incapable of breathing, and that was real—she could tell. The room was full of a strange cloud and again, she thought she fell into a dream. And yet the pain was real, she stood up, but the effort was so great she had to lean on a wall.
People were running in the hall, she heard her name called once again, and only then she understood it was real. The pain she felt only moments ago transformed into fear. What could have happened to cause that horrible uproar. Then she smelled and saw the smoke that enveloped her room, coming from outside through the open window. Holding her breath, her lungs close to exploding as she began to cough again with a colossal spasm. Something was happening—a fire— but she still did not understand how a fire could be on the grass of the lawn. In haste, she put on her dressing gown heading into the hall when, that very moment, the door opened violently and Darcy appeared looking for her, a desperate gaze on his face desperate. He calmed down only when he saw her standing and instantly she was in his arms. He carried her not knowing if she was wounded or not; his only wish was to see her out of that inferno.
She wanted to ask what was happening and tell Darcy she could walk, but there was no time. They passed a worried Charles who asked if there were still people in that part of the building and, as Darcy did not know, he continued the search. She may have fainted for a second or even she could be dreaming again as Darcy not only carried her but also embraced her with colossal force at the same time. It was so dark, but he knew the way, he did not stumble or hesitate, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “I cannot breathe,” she said, as she coughed and tears poured down her face. Her eyes hurt, she tried to keep them closed but it was as difficult and painful as when they were open.
“A fire burst out in the parlour beneath your room,” Darcy said.
They finally arrived downstairs, moved through the main hall and from there onto the lawn, a completely safe place where the guests and servants were gathered. It was a hellish sight, people scantily clad as most of them were sleeping when the fire started. Women and men together had buckets in their hands working under the colonel’s firm command to put the fire out.
Looking for her sister Elizabeth experienced another moment of terror, but then she realised that Charles was searching for the guests, meaning his betrothed was safe. And indeed she found Jane working, as she had never seen her sister doing in her life. Alive and unharmed, they hugged for a long moment under the eyes of the colonel who stopped to watch the two sisters.
“Wash your eyes!” he cried to Elizabeth. “Thank you, God, you are safe!”
She sat for a short while on the grass to recover; she still coughed and her chest was in tremendous pain, but she was safe. Dirty and scared, breathing with difficulty, she washed her eyes as the colonel had instructed her and then took a bucket from a servant’s hand.
There were rows of people transferring the buckets, loaded with water, from hand to hand. The water arrived at the colonel, who was helping the men inside the parlour to splash it on the fire. Others brought dirt and sand, but the general atmosphere was calmer now; nobody was screaming anymore and it seemed all the guests were out of danger, but they kept on working, many of them for the first time in their lives doing such hard-physical work to save the house and help Charles who looked shocked and desperate. He ran from one group to another trying to see if there were wounded and if anyone needed special attention. Despite the fear, the colonel succeeded in restoring calm. He spoke with a loud voice that was heard by all with Darcy was at his side, helping but always keeping his eyes towards Elizabeth, searching for her when she disappeared even for a short moment.
It was still deep dark when the blaze was put out. A beautiful perfect moon was above, in a sky full of stars. All around there were candles to light the scene, but everybody avoided getting too close—frightened that the fire might restart. They looked from outside at the beautiful parlour with that splendid view to the forest and garden, completely destroyed. The furniture was a pile of carbonised wood, the windows lay broken on the pavement, with water, dirt and sand everywhere. On a wall, Elizabeth saw a painting, she loved, now covered in soot and her heart ached at the destruction. She felt sorry for her sister who came to Netherfield in the afternoon expecting to find a happy party, anticipating her marriage and instead she was living this dreadful event that threatened even the wedding.
Elizabeth looked for Darcy, she wanted to thank him; it seemed as though at every step that man was saving her or her family. She found him, near the colonel, hugging his sister. He was the only one fully dressed, making Elizabeth suspect he was caught in the middle of the action while returning from his visit.
She approached Darcy passing among little groups of tired and scared people who smiled or caressed her. It looked like the terrible event had created new bonds among people who only some hours ago were strangers or did not like one another. Even Caroline was sad and benevolent; however, Elizabeth did not stop to talk to her.
Darcy smiled when he saw her approach; he made a gesture to take her into his arms like he did with his sister, and finally, all four hugged, happy to be safe.
The fire began in the parlour shortly after they went to sleep and the colonel whispered to Darcy that most probably it was a cigar that started it. Whether through the negligence of a guest or one of the servants—they did not want to find a culprit as the idea was to save the situation and to go on with life.
”Please, listen to me!” the colonel spoke—in his grave and convincing voice with a commanding attitude—addressing the people on the lawns, “I made a tour of the house with Darcy and Charles and it is absolutely safe. The only rooms affected were the three above the parlour. The servants will lead each of you to your room or to a new room, there are plenty of others. Please rest, you are safe, we shall have two men to patrol and to assure your safety while you sleep. We have two slightly wounded persons and two ladies who fainted. The doctor is taking care of them. The servants will bring water to your rooms for you to wash. Sleep safe and in the morning we shall make a decision. Let us thank God nothing tragic happened; it is only about walls and furniture, maybe the future Mrs Bingley would have wanted to change them anyway!”
He smiled so calmly that the fears that worried the group vanished into thin air. Under his command, nothing could happen and, finally, they were so grateful he had been there at that horrible moment.
The colonel looked at his cousin’s arm, his shirt was torn, and an ugly wound showed itself through the rift.
“I shall take care of him,” Elizabeth whispered.
“And I shall take care of my little cousin,” the colonel smiled at Georgiana to convince her that her brother was in good hands, “come, I will show you to the room and if you want, I shall sleep on the sofa. My girl was the bravest of all the people here!”
Georgiana’s face and her white dressing gown were blackened from the ashes, but she smiled and her eyes were shining in the darkness; Elizabeth kissed her on the cheeks so happy that the girl was not hurt.
“Go, go and sleep, the colonel will watch you! Nothing else will happen now. And your brother will also come in a moment, after the doctor cleans the wound,” she whispered to Georgiana.
“Go!” the colonel told Darcy and Elizabeth. He looked into Darcy’s eyes, making Elizabeth wonder what secret message passed between them. It was strange how they looked alike, yet they were so different.
They found Meryton’s doctor—Mr Morriaty—in the kitchen. Elizabeth knew him well as he had been coming to their house since she was a baby. He was the only doctor Mrs Bennet trusted for her daughters. Over time he had been a constant visitor with all the bruises, colds and so many other problems that Bennet’s children suffered. Now, the good doctor took his eyes away from the burn he was healing and asked somewhat worried:
“Are you wounded, Elizabeth?”
“No, Dr Morriaty, I am not, but Mr Darcy has quite a wound on his arm.”
“Is it a burn?” he wanted to know.
“No, it is a cut,” Elizabeth said with confidence and courage.
They approached the table where the doctor had the bottles and boxes with ointments Elizabeth remembered so well.
The doctor took a look at Darcy’s hand and spoke only to Elizabeth with a rather severe tone:
“I have to take care of this lad, are you capable of doing what I instruct you to do?”
Elizabeth’s hands were trembling, the burns on the servant’s arms were quite a terrifying image. She usually enjoyed assisting the doctor when he was treating her sisters, only this time, Darcy’s wound looked rather severe, making her wonder if she was capable of taking care of it. But then she was the only one in the room who could help the doctor, so she hid her hand behind her back for the doctor not to see her turmoil and said, “Yes, Doctor Moriarty, I am, just tell me what to do!”
“First, Elizabeth, just pour ten drops from that bottle into two glasses of water and drink.”
“Me too?” Elizabeth asked in astonishment.
“You, too!” the doctor said in a voice she remembered from her childhood when one of her sisters did not want to follow the doctor’s orders.
Dr Morriaty was carefully watching how she counted and poured the drops despite her trembling hands. She was one of the most courageous women he knew; most of them would have fainted at the sight of the burns or the blood.
But the old doctor was not the only one to admire Elizabeth. Darcy silently observed the scene, appreciating the relationship between the doctor and Elizabeth, but mostly he praised her bravery and determination.
He had returned from his friends around 12 o’clock only to find chaos instead of the peaceful house he left behind only a few hours before. He heard the screams and noises from a distance; he did not remember how he managed to arrive with his heart pumping in his chest and temples. His first thought was of Georgiana, he blamed himself for not taking her on the visit, but the girl seemed to enjoy the gathering, and he always encouraged her to mingle and conquer her natural shyness.
He left the horse in the hands of the servant who spoke in a trembling voice, “It is a fire sir, in the parlour!”
To his happiness the first persons he saw were the colonel and his sister. She was covered in ashes but working behind his cousin, and as long as she was near him, he had no fears for her. Then he saw Charles rescuing a lady whom he helped to sit on the grass. The servants were bringing buckets filled with water and everybody was assisting the colonel in putting the fire out.
At that very instant, he heard Jane screaming, “Charles, where is Elizabeth?” And then again and again, “Elizabeth, Elizabeth!”
His heart stopped, but he knew he needed all his strength, so he turned to Charles and asked, “Where is Elizabeth’s room?”
“Above the parlour, the fourth on the left!” Charles shouted, really worried.
In just a few steps, Darcy was upstairs shouting her name like a mad man. It was not possible to lose her, not in that way, he prayed to find her safe and sound. He opened the door with force to find her standing, trying to put on her dressing gown in a room full of smoke. She hardly breathed when suddenly, just before he took her in his arms she began coughing and fainted.
She was alive and did not seem to be wounded; he saw Charles passing near them in haste, while he ran and finally they were out, and she could breathe again.
“Can you stand?” he asked, looking at her, still keeping her in his arms.
She nodded, between two coughs, as she touched the ground looking around to see the horrible sight of the parlour still on fire and the room above from which she had escaped. They were face to face, she could not talk, but then in a crazy and desperate impulse, Darcy took her into his arms embracing her with fury as he had been so close to losing her.
A moment later, when her sister arrived, he had to let her go into Jane’s arms, feeling he had lost the world, but cherishing that unique moment when they were so close. Covered with ashes, her beautiful hair loose, almost undressed, she was a strangely beautiful creature who attracted him even more than before. He imagined seeing her each morning, her splendid hair on a pillow next to his. He heard the colonel calling for help, so he had to stop his wishful thinking and go to his cousin.
He did not feel he was wounded until Elizabeth and the colonel looked at his arm; it was not a severe injury, but he enjoyed being in her company and followed her to the kitchen where the doctor was.
Darcy was finally free to look at her, so focused on her work that she did not mind his gaze.
∞∞∞
He decided to visit his friends because he could not face her…yet. During their morning stroll, she had been so polite and indifferent that his heart shut in sadness. It was clear her sentiments were unchanged; perhaps she was grateful for his help, but she did not see him as a man she could love. He was so unhappy that, for a moment, he even thought to find a pretext to leave Netherfield. St Albans was only a delay until he could gather the courage to face her again. And here they were, together in such a dramatic experience.
Attentive not to cause him pain, she followed the doctor’s orders, so calm that it was hard to believe that only minutes ago she had been in such danger. Elizabeth washed his wound and gently sprinkled a powder that stopped the blood. Her hair tamed with a ribbon, he could see every trait of her beautiful face, her little grimaces when she did not wrap the bandage correctly and then the triumphant smile, addressed to the doctor when the work was done.
The doctor nodded and said to Darcy, “She is my best assistant, but now please walk her to her room and make sure she gets a good sleep!”
“You do not need me to help you further?” Elizabeth asked.
But the doctor just smiled and said, “No my dear, enough excitement for one night; go and try to rest now!”
They climbed the stairs in silence, Elizabeth uncertain where she would sleep. On the hall, just a few steps ahead, she saw Charles and her sister in front of the master bedroom. She made a move to go to them, but Darcy gently stopped her whispering, “Please, let them be alone!”
