Create Your Own JAFF Adventure – Post 3

Thanks for joining me on our Create Your Own JAFF Adventure! Just starting? You can catch up on previous posts collected here: https://austenvariations.com/category/sarah-courtney/ . Last week, Elizabeth found Mr. Darcy injured on the roadside, and the majority vote was that she should take him to London as he requested! So the story will continue from there.

If you’d prefer the third person, you can read it here. There’s a link at the bottom of the intro part that will jump you to the newest part. Just don’t forget to come back and comment to tell me what Elizabeth should do next!

Mr. Darcy groans and shifts as the carriage goes over another bump. Anxious, you watch him. Is he looking paler than he was when they found him? Another bump, and he groans again. The rough ground must be jarring his head so cruelly!

There is something red on the cushion visible behind Mr. Darcy’s head as he moves, and panic courses through you at the realisation. He is bleeding!

Heart racing, you pull out a handkerchief and fold it, moving to the backward-facing bench to sit next to Mr. Darcy. You have to force yourself to move slowly so as not to startle him, as his eyes are once again closed, but you lift his head a little away from the seat cushion and press your handkerchief to the back of his head to stop the flow, although thankfully it seems to be bleeding only sluggishly.

You cannot see the wound through his thick, curly dark hair. You can only pray that the carriage will get to London quickly, and before Mr. Darcy’s condition worsens.

Another bump, and Mr. Darcy begins to slide off the seat. You do the only thing you can think of—you fling your other arm around his waist and haul him back into the seat.

Or, at least, you try to.

“You are heavier than you look,” you mutter, straining to keep him from sliding onto the floor.

He mumbles something, and you lean closer to hear, but he does not repeat it. Instead, his head drops to his chest, and his entire torso begins to lean. He is about to topple over!

Returning your arm to his waist, you press yourself against his side, almost shoving him into a corner of the carriage to keep him from tumbling. Would it be better to lower him to his back across the carriage seat? You are not sure it is wide enough, though, and if it is not, it would be even more uncomfortable for his head to be crooked against the wall. No, it is better to keep him upright. But how are you going to survive hours of this until you reach London?

“Elizabeth?” His voice is so low, you can barely make out her name.

“Mr. Darcy!”

“Where . . . where are we?” His eyes half open, and he looks about the carriage with confusion. He looks down at you, his head wobbling a little. “London?”

“We are on the way to London,” you say, relieved that he seems to remember asking you.

“Good,” he says, his eyes closing again. “Knew I could trust you.”

You blink. He knew he could trust you? He hardly knows you! And what he knows of you, he does not like. From “tolerable” and “not handsome enough to dance with” to your constant disputes at Netherfield Park, why would he think he could trust you?

But he can. Why it matters, you cannot say, but no matter your personal feelings for the arrogant Mr. Darcy, you will see the injured man safely to London and in the hands of a physician before you discharge your duty to him.

By the time you reach the outskirts of town, you are dismayed at a new problem. Where should you take Mr. Darcy? You do not know his address. Mayfair? It is a reasonable guess, but you do not know for sure, and you certainly do not know which house is his, nor are the coachman and driver likely to.

They did not ask you, but as you crane your neck to see around Mr. Darcy’s lolling head out the window, you recognise the streets you are passing. They are going to the Gardiners’.

It is a safe choice. After all, the coachman was tasked with taking you safely to London. Mr. Darcy is not his main responsibility. But now . . . he is yours. What are you to do with him?

“Mr. Darcy?” you ask softly. When he does not respond, you nudge him as much as you dare and speak louder. “Mr. Darcy?”

He does not wake.

The carriage stops in the mews, and soon after the door opens. Your father’s man servant widens his eyes to see you wedging Mr. Darcy in the corner to keep him upright, but his eyes soften almost immediately.

“Shall we take him inside?” he asks. “Or is he awake to give the direction to his townhouse? John says he has heard Mr. Darcy lives on Mayfair.”

“I could not wake him,” you admit.

“I can take your place and hold Mr. Darcy upright for now,” he offers. “You can go into the Gardiners’, and John will take him to Mayfair and enquire. Someone must know which house is his.”

You consider. Bringing Mr. Darcy into the Gardiners’ house will be a disruption to the household, and the man himself may not wish it. If he has an urgent reason to go to London, he will not want to be delayed waiting on Gracechurch Street for a physician.

But somehow the idea of relinquishing Mr. Darcy to the men does not feel right, and you dismiss that option. You cannot so easily hand him over to others without knowing whether they will put enough effort into keeping him safe. Perhaps Aunt Gardiner will be willing to join you so that you might see Mr. Darcy safely home together.

Do you:

insist Mr. Darcy be taken into the Gardiners’ house

or

ask to have Aunt Gardiner summoned to help you see Mr. Darcy safely home?

Comment below and let me know! Also feel free to make any other comments or share any theories about the story you’d like!