Page 27 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
Yet, underneath all that bonhomie, Elizabeth sensed that the colonel hid a great well of sorrow. She wondered if her intuition was correct, and, if so, about the source of his sorrow. Her theory was that, like any other soldier, he must have seen a great deal of suffering and death, and he must have many painful memories of battles and losses. She had read that many soldiers startled at loud sounds, had anguishing nightmares, or tried to drown their memories with drink. She hoped the colonel did not suffer in any of these manners but would not have been surprised to learn he did.
The colonel must have been injured in some way, because Elizabeth noticed he held his left arm very stiffly and rarely used that hand. He made no mention of his injury, however, and he neither flinched nor grimaced with pain. She wondered, however, if he was hiding suffering as much as sorrow.
With the public face that the colonel presented being cheerful and friendly, Elizabeth felt glad he had come to Netherfield. She truly hoped that he was a deliberate addition to the anti-blackmail team. Protecting the Darcys, and therefore thwarting Miss Bingley, had become very important to her.
With her focus firmly on the Darcys, Elizabeth became more and more concerned about Georgiana. The girl had been excited to hear that her cousin would come, and her face had radiated joy when she first greeted him with words and hugs. But soon a faint line had appeared between her brows, and as the evening wore on, that worry line had grown more visible.
After dinner, Elizabeth only spent a quarter of an hour in the drawing room. The men had chosen to forego the separation of the sexes, and the post-dinner chat had been as dominated bythe colonel as the dinner conversation had been. Elizabeth took advantage of the ending of one of the colonel’s stories to stand and say that she needed to attend to her sister and would thus say good night.
Everyone responded in their usual way: Mr. Bingley asked her to relay his wishes for a rapid recovery to her sister, Mr. Darcy warmly but succinctly wished her and her sister a restful night, the Hursts and Miss Bingley nodded cooly, and Georgiana looked as if she was hoping to be invited to go up with her. The colonel expressed dismay that Elizabeth was removing herself from their company so early, but she had a feeling that he was quite tired and was not as distressed as his words indicated.
She turned to Georgiana and asked, “Would you like to come up for a short visit with Jane? Of course, I understand if you wish to remain here with your cousin.”
Georgiana said, “I would love nothing more than to see dear Jane.” She hurried out the door and up the stairs, and the moment they got to Jane’s sick room, she started writing on the slate.
Elizabeth immediately dismissed Molly, who had been attending her sister, and then she checked in with Jane. Her sister claimed to be fine, but Elizabeth reassured herself by checking for fever and listening to Jane's chest.
Then she turned towards Georgiana, who had filled the slate.
“Why is Richard flirting with you, Elizabeth?” Georgiana had written. “I felt so bad for my brother; he must be so jealous. I suppose you like Richard more, and I should not blame you. It is only natural, since Richard is so much like you. He smiles and laughs and talks more, like you do. But I hate to see poor William lose his chance to win your regard.”
Elizabeth read it quickly and turned to Georgiana with raised eyebrows and a caring smile. She reached for the cloth and erased the slate.
“You need not worry. My regard for your brother is growing. And I have to remind you that neither your brother nor your cousin are flirting with me or angling for a romance with me. Neither would ever consider marrying me since we are in such different circles.”
While Elizabeth wrote, Jane told a long tale about a bird she had befriended; the robin had, she claimed, come again and again to her window and seemed to be smiling at her. Neither Elizabeth nor Georgiana paid attention to Jane’s ramblings, as they knew she was only attempting to fill the silence that would seem odd, just in case someone was eavesdropping.
Georgiana shook her head and erased the slate. “You are a gentleman’s daughter,” she wrote. “What do circles matter?”
Elizabeth smiled at the girl’s romantic naiveté and wrote, “Most people consider practicalities as well as emotions when choosing who they will marry. I cannot picture your brother or cousin wishing to connect themselves with an uneducated, poor country miss.”
Georgiana’s frown grew prodigiously larger, and Elizabeth smiled to see how much she resembled her brother at that moment. But she hugged the girl and whispered, “Try not to worry, Georgie, everything will be well.”
Georgiana was writing on the slate again. “Do you like Richard more than William?”
Elizabeth briefly responded to the question without wiping the slate clean. “No.”
The younger girl looked relieved as she erased the messages.
Poor Jane was still talking about the robin and the window, and Georgiana waited until there was a pause and said, “I am so glad that you have had such a companion while we were far from you. Dear Jane, I hope you sleep well tonight.”
Jane looked so grateful to finally be able to stop talking, and both she and Elizabeth wished Georgiana a restful night, as well.
But it was not quite as restful as Elizabeth might have hoped.
Jane quickly slipped into slumber,and Elizabeth rang for Molly to attend her. Another maid, Sarah, arrived as well and said that she would help Elizabeth get ready for the night. Soon Elizabeth was in her own assigned room, dressed in her nightdress, tucked in bed, with the fire banked and a warming pan at the end of her bed helping her feel cosy. She tried to calm her mind so she could sleep.
But before she succumbed, there was a ruckus below, a pounding at the door and a murmur of voices. Elizabeth, recalling the fire a few days previously, jumped out of bed and hastily donned her dressing gown. Thrusting her feet into slippers, she opened the door and listened intently.
“What is it, Richard?” That was Darcy’s voice.
“It must be an emergency!” squealed Miss Bingley. “So late at night! Do tell us—whatever is the matter?”
The colonel seemed to be trying to reassure everyone that the message he had just read was important, but not a life-threatening emergency. Even though the colonel had talked more loudly than anyone else all evening, this late at night he had dropped his volume so much that Elizabeth could not make out every word.
Elizabeth heard a nearby sound and looked down the hallway. She was unsurprised to see a nervous looking Georgiana, her own wrapper hastily tied, approaching her. “Is something wrong?” she asked Elizabeth in a whisper.
“I gather the pounding on the door was an express rider with an important message for your cousin.”
