Create Your Own JAFF Adventure – Post 4

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 arrived in London with Mr. Darcy after finding him injured on the roadside, and the majority vote was that she should bring him into the Gardiners’ house! 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!

“We should take him inside,” you insist. “He cannot wait in the carriage while you travel up and down Mayfair enquiring as to his address! It would be much better to let him recover here and ask my uncle to make the enquiries.”

“Very good, ma’am,” the servant says.

Before they can make any attempt to move Mr. Darcy, however, Aunt Gardiner comes hurrying out of the house.

“Elizabeth!” she cries. “It is you! Andrew swore he saw you from the window and I could not credit it. Does your father know you are here? What am I saying, of course he does.”

You give your aunt’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course, Aunt. He sent me, and I will explain more later. But for now . . . John Coachman found Mr. Darcy, a gentleman we know from Meryton, injured on the roadside. Mr. Darcy woke a little and insisted on being taken to London, but he has lost consciousness again.”

“Oh, goodness!” Aunt Gardiner begins calling servants and giving orders, and you stand aside and watch her, impressed with her efficiency, as Mr. Darcy is borne away into the Gardiners’ townhome and, presumably, upstairs to a bed. Only when you are left alone downstairs and all the commotion has moved on do you finally take a deep breath and lower yourself onto a comfortable sofa.

Poor Mr. Darcy! What is to become of him? Why was he so insistent on coming to London?

“Lizzy!” A tousled head appears at your side, and you lean over the arm of the sofa to see Andrew, with Michael close behind him, peering up at you.

“Oh, no! I will have to call Aunt Gardiner and let her know that two little puppies have let themselves into her parlour!”

“We are not puppies,” Andrew says with scathing disgust.

“We’re tigers!” Michael pipes up. “See?” He growls ferociously. “We’re hunting!”

“What are you hunting?” Something slowly unfurls in your chest at the ordinariness of playing with your cousins despite the anxieties of the morning.

“Buffalo!” Andrew cries. “Do you want to be a water buffalo? Mamma says she will not anymore.”

You grin. Poor Aunt Gardiner. “Very well, but only for a few minutes. I must speak with your mother when she returns downstairs.”

As an unsuspecting water buffalo, you are peacefully drinking from a pond while waiting for tigers to pounce upon you when you hear the physician arrive, and you are injured and near to death from your wounds when you hear the physician leave. You are dying of curiosity, but you know that Aunt Gardiner will fetch you when there is something to tell.

Despite the short and contentious acquaintance you have, you feel somewhat responsible for Mr. Darcy’s care. He has, after all, declared for some strange reason that he can trust you, and the burden feels heavy upon your shoulders.

When the water buffalo has been consumed and the tigers finally fetched by their nurse for their naps, Aunt Gardiner returns to the parlour. The furrow in her brow gives her a look of disapproval, and you find yourself shrinking away from her severe look. Have you done so wrong by bringing him to London?

“Aunt?” you venture. “Is he well?”

“According to Mr. Bartley, he will live,” your aunt says, and you feel some of the tension leave you. “His head wound is not so very bad. Mr. Bartley was dismayed to hear that he had been unconscious, but he thinks that Mr. Darcy waking a few times is a good sign, and Mr. Darcy is awake now and knows who he is. He is a little confused about where he is, but that much is to be expected.” She hesitates. “Lizzy, just how well do you know this man?”

“Not very well,” you say. “I met him when he arrived in Netherfield with Mr. Bingley in October. We met each other a few times, and then I did spend almost a week at Netherfield during Jane’s illness. He is a difficult man to know, I would venture.” You bite your lip. Should you tell her the whole? “I heard some things about his past from Mr. Wickham that give me pause, though.” You have written several times about Mr. Wickham, so you trust your aunt remembers him.

Aunt Gardiner nods brusquely. “I know of him a little, as he is from Derbyshire, not so far from where I spent some years in my youth. His parents were good people, very generous.” She sighs and sits down on the sofa next to you. “He is asking for you.”

You blink. “Asking for me?”

“Yes. He insists that he must speak with you. Are you certain that you do not have a more . . . intimate relationship than you are telling me?”

You shove yourself to her feet. “Intimate relationship? Certainly not!”

“Good.” Aunt Gardiner hesitates again. “I do not like to allow it, but he is very insistent, and he is becoming agitated and trying to come downstairs. I compromised and allowed him to sit in a chair in the sitting room to wait while I spoke with you, but he is better off in bed, I think. Will you come speak to him so that I may convince him to rest?”

“Of course.”

As you follow your aunt upstairs, you contemplate the odd happenings. Why does Mr. Darcy want so desperately to speak with you?

Mr. Darcy has been settled into a chair, but as you follow Aunt Gardiner in, he attempts to rise to his feet before he sits back down, groaning and putting a hand to his head.

“Now, Mr. Darcy, you promised me you would sit,” Aunt Gardiner scolds.

“Of course. I apologise.” Mr. Darcy looks right at you. “I will speak quickly, as my head spins, and I do not know how long I can remain upright. Miss Elizabeth, I was rushing to London on urgent business. I must find my sister immediately.” He closes his eyes and puts his hand to his forehead. “I . . . do not . . . I—”

“Let us get you back to bed immediately,” Aunt Gardiner says, standing and moving to his side. “Lizzy, I will see you downstairs.”

“Lizzy,” Mr. Darcy echoes in a whisper as Aunt Gardiner leads him into the neighbouring bedroom.

The sound of his voice saying your nickname gives you an odd tickling feeling in your stomach, and you can hear it over and over in your head as you obey your aunt. He is not in his right mind, of course. Staying upright and conscious in order to make his request cost him dearly, and you cannot blame him for repeating your nickname in his confusion.

“There you are, Lizzy,” Aunt Gardiner says as she bustled in. “I suppose that was Mr. Darcy’s reason for wishing to speak to you, although I cannot see why he was unwilling to tell me. Still, I think we’d best fetch his sister. We can offer her the other guest bedroom, although we will have to hope he has no other relatives who would wish to stay, as we will have no more rooms to offer them!”

You give her a slight smile and shake your head. “I know nothing of his relatives except that he has already inherited, so his father must be dead.”

“His mother is, too. I remember when she died, many years ago. Now, Mr. Darcy did stay awake long enough to give me the direction, so we may send for his sister.”

You nod, but you remember Mr. Darcy’s urgency. He was hurrying to London. Is something wrong with his sister?

From Mr. Wickham’s description, Miss Darcy is likely proud and arrogant, more like Miss Bingley than Elizabeth’s beloved Jane. Still, her brother is injured and asking for her, his first concern for her. Is sending a note to the girl sufficient?

“Perhaps I ought to go with the carriage,” you say. “Miss Darcy may not come to a house that is unknown to her on the word of an unfamiliar coachman and a note.”

“That may be.” Aunt Gardiner frowns. “But if Mr. Darcy should wake again and ask for you, I should hate for him to become agitated again. Mr. Bartley says his brains were violently shaken and that he must lie still in the dark and quiet as much as possible.”

Which would Mr. Darcy prefer? It is an odd way to approach the question, but nonetheless you find yourself contemplating it.

Should you:

send a note to Mr. Darcy’s sister, begging her to come,

or

go yourself to find Miss Darcy?

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