Create Your Own JAFF Adventure – Post 6

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 went with her cousins to the park, where she ran into Mr. Wickham, whom she considered telling of Mr. Darcy’s accident. Readers voted that she should tell him she danced with Mr. Darcy at Netherfield instead, so this week’s story will start there.

Special note: I’m aware that we are straining the bounds of daylight hours in November in England. This is the kind of thing that I would fix in edits in my books. However, since I’m posting this live, I’m kinda stuck! I hope you will bear with me for now and know that I will try to find a way to fix it if I edit this story later.

If you’d prefer the third person version, 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 asked me to dance.”

Mr. Wickham’s smile tightens. “He asked you to dance?”

Is he jealous?

“I could not refuse, of course,” you say slowly, “but you can imagine how surprised I was at his application.”

He chuckles, but there is something strange about his expression, his eyes focusing on your face as if searching for something. “And during the dance? Has he improved any in conversation?”

“Not at all! I tried to take him to task for his treatment of you, but I could not be overt in a ballroom.”

“I congratulate you on your effort, although it was unnecessary. Mr. Darcy is impervious to feelings of shame or regret.”

That does fit in a little with what he once said about his implacable resentment.

“Did he dance with many young ladies?” Mr. Wickham leans forward, giving the impression that this answer is very important, although you cannot guess why.

“No, indeed! I do not believe he danced with any other woman outside his party. I cannot imagine why I was the ‘lucky’ one chosen.”

“Can you not?” Mr. Wickham smiles broadly. “Come, Miss Bennet, do not be coy. You are a beautiful woman. It may be that Mr. Darcy can appreciate a pretty face as well as any other mere mortal, although I have never seen evidence of it before.”

“He would have asked my sister Jane to dance in that case.” Although it is true that he knows you far better than Jane. Your time at Netherfield led to a number of interesting conversations while Jane convalesced upstairs.

“You left Longbourn early this morning, then? I would not like to have to rise early after a ball myself! You will call me lazy.”

“Certainly not. I wish I could sleep a little later, to be sure, but I have always struggled to sleep once the sun has risen. I am accustomed to little sleep after evening activities.” You have never needed as much sleep as some of your sisters.

“And that is all the news from Meryton?”

You laugh. “If you are expecting all the on dits you might hear in town, I am afraid you will be disappointed! Mr. Darcy asking a local woman to dance is the most interesting news I have for you.” Well, aside from Mr. Collins’s proposal, Lydia making a fool out of herself at the ball, Mary’s attempt to sing and Papa stopping her, and Mama proclaiming to all of Mr. Bingley’s guests that Jane was as good as engaged. And, of course, Mr. Darcy’s mystifying accident.

Mr. Wickham looks towards the gate of the park. “I wish I could speak with you longer to enquire about the health of our other mutual friends, but I have an appointment soon. I hope to finish Colonel Forster’s errands here in town soon and return to Hertfordshire then. Will I have the delight of your company?”

“I cannot say, but I believe I will be here in London for some time yet.”

“Ah.” He bows over your hand. “Until we meet again, Miss Bennet.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Wickham.”

You shake your head with amusement as you watch Mr. Wickham hurry away. London is a large city, but in some ways it is almost like a small town. You are always sure to meet with someone you know!

The children have tired themselves out with running, and you find herself carrying Michael back to the Gardiners’ house.

“Mr. Darcy is in the drawing room,” Aunt Gardiner says as she lifts Michael from your arms.

“The drawing room!”

“I believe he is anxious for his sister. He could not rest, and he insisted on coming downstairs to wait. Mr. Bartley strictly insisted that he may not read or do any activity that might strain the eyes or brain. Perhaps you might provide him with a little company while I take Michael upstairs to his governess. I will return shortly.”

“Certainly, Aunt.” You make your way to the drawing room, where you find Mr. Darcy sitting on the very edge of the sofa, staring blankly at a wall. He spins around when you enter, the eager expression on his face quickly transforming to a grimace of pain. He clutches his head.

“I apologise, Mr. Darcy. I did not mean to startle you.”

“It is not your fault. I heard your step and hoped that Colonel Fitzwilliam had found my sister.”

“I am certain he has. Meanwhile, perhaps I might read you a book to pass the time?” The idea occurred to you on the way here. You know little about Mr. Darcy, but you do know he likes to read.

“A novel, I suppose?”

You laugh. “Mr. Bartly forbid you from over-exercising your brain. I do not imagine novels were what he had in mind, even if I am the one doing the reading.”

“Poetry, then?”

“Now, Mr. Darcy. If poetry is not straining your mind, you are not reading the right sort, or you are not reading it with the right attitude. No, we will read a travel monologue.”

“Oh!” His eyes brighten. “Excellent.”

You choose one of Uncle Gardiner’s favorites from the shelf, an account of a vicar’s daughter who traveled to India with her officer husband, and began to read.

“You read remarkably well for someone who claims to not be a great reader,” Mr. Darcy quips.

You smile hesitantly. “Thank you,” you say.

Is it true that a head injury can cause a change in one’s behavior? You have never seen Mr. Darcy so amiable and . . . teasing? Should you mention it to Mr. Bartley when next he comes to see his patient?

With a flash of amusement, you wonder what Mr. Wickham would think of his erstwhile friend now.

You are reading about the smells and sounds of the harbor at Calcutta when your attention is torn from the book by a sound in the passage.

A moment later, the door flies open and a man strides in. He is tall, almost as tall as Mr. Darcy, although not quite as handsome, and is dressed in regimentals. This, then, must be Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Behind him stands a young woman in a light blue dress who wrings her hands as the colonel clasps his cousin’s arms.

“Darcy! Are you well? What happened?”

Mr. Darcy spreads his arms wide, and to your surprise, the proud Miss Darcy flies into them, clasping her brother closely. A brother’s brush with death must overcome the pride Mr. Wickham has said she is afflicted with.

Mr. Darcy opens his mouth to answer, but he lifts his hand to his head again, and you can see his pain in how he squints his eyes against the light in the room.

You catch his eye and nod to a chair. “You should sit,” you say softly.

He frowns but obeys, and his sister gives a little gasp of surprise as she takes in his ill appearance.

When he does not speak right away, likely because of his discomfort, you answer for him. “On my way to London this morning, I happened upon Mr. Darcy in the road. His head was injured, but he woke briefly and insisted we bring him to London. We did as he asked, but when we arrived, he was unconscious and we could not wake him to ask for the address, so we brought him here.”

“In the road?” Miss Darcy looks horrified.

“Forgive me.” Mr. Darcy gives his cousin a weak smile. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, this is Miss Bennet. She is from Meryton, her father’s estate a few miles from Netherfield Park. Miss Bennet, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Georgiana Darcy. The colonel is my cousin.”

You exchange pleasantries briefly and they take their seats, but Mr. Darcy is clearly flagging. His posture has always been perfect, but now he sags, his head resting on his hand.

“We should get you home,” Colonel Fitzwilliam says, moving as if to aid his cousin to his feet.

“I am afraid that the physician who examined me, Mr. Bartley, insisted that I stay here for a few days. Little as I like it, I agree. My head swims and pains me from standing, and I cannot imagine what it would do in a carriage.”

The colonel looks doubtful. “You do look ill. If you are so unwell, should you not be in bed?”

“I could not rest until I knew Georgiana was safe.” Darcy smiles at her.

“Safe?” Miss Darcy asks.

Mr. Darcy stiffens. He leans close to his cousin and says something too low for you to catch.

Aunt Gardiner bustles in, and you make the introductions this time, as Mr. Darcy is beginning to look grey in color.

“I shall walk with you upstairs,” Colonel Fitzwilliam says. “Georgiana will stay here while you do, so you may rest easy that she is safe.”

“Stay here?” Miss Darcy’s nose wrinkles. “Oh, but brother, you will be well enough to return home tomorrow, do you not think?”

Mr. Darcy looks queasy at the thought. “Mr. Bartley believes I should take precautions until my headaches and dizziness subside, at least.”

“Dizziness!” Miss Darcy shoots her cousin a look of dismay. “Oh, but we cannot stay here for days!”

“You are welcome to stay as long as your brother needs until he recovers,” Aunt Gardiner says briskly. “And speaking of his recovery, now that he has been assured that you are well, I do believe he should go upstairs and lie down. It is time to dress for dinner. Would you like a tray in your room, Mr. Darcy? You have been sitting for some time already.”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Gardiner.” He willingly allows his cousin to help him stand, which tells you more than anything else how poorly he feels. “Thank you for coming, Georgiana.”

Mrs. Gardiner accompanies the men upstairs to show Colonel Fitzwilliam his room, leaving you with Miss Darcy.

You are not alone for long.

“I have spotted a herd of wildebeests!” a small voice cries from the doorway.

You have enough experience with your cousins to know where this is going, and you hold up a hand. “Your mother will have your hide if you attack our guest, little tigers.”

“We aren’t tigers!” Andrew protests, stepping into the room, Michael at his heels. “We are lions!” He illustrates with a dramatic—if rather uninspiring in its volume—roar.

A quick glance at Miss Darcy proves she is a little confused, but not irritated.

“Are you not supposed to be upstairs with Miss Hammerlin?”

“She is reading Cecilia and Margaret their spelling words,” Andrew says. “If I were eight, I would spell much better than Cecy. She cannot even spell ‘wrought’ correctly.”

“Can you?” Miss Darcy asks.

He makes a face. “I’m only five. I don’t have to spell it yet. But if I were eight, I could.”

“All the same, I think you had better go upstairs before your mamma catches you,” you say. Aunt Gardiner will not appreciate the boys playing their silly games in front of a guest, charming as the children can be.

With a groan, the two little lions concede, although Michael takes the opportunity to demonstrate his own kittenish roar on his way out.

“I apologise for my cousins. We took them to the park today, but it seems that not even running pell-mell through the grass for an hour can exhaust them.”

Miss Darcy laughs. “I used to love to run at the park when I was young. My governess hated it. I miss those days.”

“You do not visit the park anymore?”

“Certainly not to run. The park is more a place to see and be seen now. I am certain of running across some acquaintance and being forced to stop and speak to her, and so I cannot even manage a brisk walk.”

“I suppose that is an advantage of not knowing many people in London.” You find yourself remembering the acquaintance you met with on your own visit today.

Should you:

tell Miss Darcy about meeting a common acquaintance in the park today

or

end the conversation and take her upstairs to show her her room so that she might change for dinner?

Share what you think Elizabeth should do in the comments! Also feel free to share any theories or ideas you have about the story! I’m writing it as I go, so while I do have a background story planned, your suggestions might end up prompting some new ideas for me.