On a lonely path on the estate of Longbourn, Fitzwilliam Darcy suffers an accident, being thrown to the ground when a woman runs in front of his horse. When Darcy wakes, he finds himself at Longbourn, injured and confined until his body can heal.
The Bennets, he thinks, are an eclectic mix of characters, and at times he finds them difficult to endure. The unresolved question of who caused his accident festers in the back of his mind, leading him to suspect his hosts of deceit.
As his time at Longbourn lengthens, however, Darcy finds himself becoming more accustomed to them. Esteem begins to overtake him as he considers their unstinting hospitality and care for him, a man no more than a stranger to them. In particular, Darcy is intrigued by the second daughter, Miss Elizabeth, a woman unlike any other, and one for whom he quickly develops a liking.
Eventually his forced confinement wears on Darcy, and the coming of a relation he finds difficult to endure, along with the reappearance an old enemy, wreak havoc on his equilibrium. When events happen which demand his action, he cannot allow the family who succored him to suffer from the ignominious behavior of one of their number.
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Darcy’s response to the excitement was a gaping yawn as a wave of exhaustion overtook him.
“You are tired,” said Mr. Bennet, noticing Darcy’s drawn face and slumping shoulders. “I will leave you to rest. Unfortunately, we have pressed this room into service as a bedroom for you and it does not have a lanyard to signal the household staff. Please accept this as a substitute,” said he and, producing a bell, placed it on the table standing beside the bed.
READ MORE“That will be most difficult to grasp,” Darcy complained. “I cannot make use of the arm that would be best able to shake the bell,” said he.
“Forgive me, it would appear that I have given you a right-handed bell in error,” said Mr. Bennet with the smallest of smiles. “Let me just go and find the proper one. This might take me some time, as left-handed bells are truly a rarity in these parts. It might be possible to send to London for a left-handed clapper, one that would allow the blacksmith to convert this right-handed bell for use by the left hand, but until it arrives, you are unfortunately saddled with this one.”
Darcy looked at the man for the better part of a full minute before seeing the humor in his retort. With a shake of his head, he lay back onto the mattress.
“Well, right-handed will have to do then, I guess,” said he.
He shifted, trying vainly to find comfort in the mattress, but every movement sent a sharp pain through his damaged arm from the hand to the shoulder, forcing a gasp through his clenched teeth.
“The apothecary has suggested a drug for your pain and informed me he will bring it by later,” said Mr. Bennet. “When I have it, I will have some prepared and brought to you. That should help you sleep tonight.”
“No!” exclaimed Darcy. “I will be fine without that infernal laudanum.”
“What makes you suppose he has prescribed laudanum?” said Mr. Bennet. “There are other remedies for pain.”
“Because that is what apothecaries always suggest, and I want nothing to do with it.”
“As you wish,” said Mr. Bennet as he let himself out, closing the door quietly and retreating to his library for meditation and separation from the usual household chaos.
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