Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

"Fitzwilliam? Fitzwilliam hurt! Good God, what is this?" exclaimed Darcy, completely roused out of his usual calm. "How did it happen? Tell us all about it. I will go to him instantly" (ringing the bell). "In God's name, Bertram, say he is still living? Where is he? How long will it take to get to him?"

Elizabeth, though dreadfully shocked and distressed, had the wisdom to send another servant for refreshments for Mr. Bertram, while Darcy ordered his own things to be packed and his travelling carriage be brought round, and in the slight bustle caused by these arrangements, Mrs. Grant and Georgiana were able, almost unobserved, to attend to Mary, who had not actually fainted, but had sunk down on a low couch, scarcely knowing what she did. Her sister and Georgiana supported her in between them, placed her in a more easy position, rubbed her hands and shielded her from the light; and Mary, with a very great effort, collected herself sufficiently to listen to the details which Mr. Bertram was hurriedly giving in answer to Mr. and Mrs. Darcy's inquiries. It appeared that Colonel Fitzwilliam had only just returned from London, and this was his first day out for some time. The fox had got well away, and the hunt were in the midst of a fine run, when the Colonel's horse came down with him at a blind fence. Bertram paused here to give more particulars than his impatient hearers desired, about the height and width of the fence, and the exact manner in which the horse had approached it, for it seemed that he himself had been riding near at the time, and had witnessed the accident. The Colonel was pinned under the animal, and was taken out unconscious, with a broken leg, and, it was feared, some grave injury to the spine. Fortunately, the house of the friend with whom he was staying was not far off, and he was borne thither, and the services of the apothecary were promptly obtained; but the only opinion he could form was very grave, and pending the arrival of a more experienced surgeon, who had been sent for from Leicester, no one could tell what an hour might bring forth.

The ladies were sick with horror: Mrs. Grant was weeping silently, and Georgiana, as she held Mary's cold hand, felt that this was indeed the last and crowning sorrow, for poor Cousin Robert to die without knowing the happiness that ought to have been his.

"The pulse is so very weak; I think they fear a collapse of the whole system, even if he does recover consciousness," said Bertram, in too low a tone to be heard by those at the other end of the room. "They were trying stimulants of various kinds when I came away."

Elizabeth's face was hidden. Darcy was too much overwhelmed to speak for some moments, till with a sudden start of recollection he exclaimed: "And you, Bertram? how came you to be there? and how come you are here now?"

Bertram, with a return to something of his nonchalant manner, explained that he, too, had been staying in the same neighbourhood, with a friend, who was, in fact, the master of that pack of hounds, and with whom he often spent a few days in the hunting season, as it was little over twenty miles from his own house, Mansfield Park. "I had been talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam during the morning," he continued, "and helped to carry him back to Ashley's place, and when Ashley said his relations ought to know, I decided at once to come with the news. I only delayed to change my clothes and have the chaise got ready, for I knew time was an object, and I could get over the ground quicker than anyone else they could send."

"I am sure we are deeply indebted to you, Bertram," said Darcy, grasping him warmly by the hand, while Elizabeth joined him in expressing the sincerest gratitude. "You could not have done us a greater service, and it is one we shall never forget. It was an impulse of true goodness and unselfishness that prompted you to ride straight to us, disregarding your own fatigue and inconvenience; few men would have done as much."

Bertram disclaimed, and as Georgiana came forward to add her thanks to those of the others, he bowed to her with gallantry, assuring her that fatigue was nothing, if he could be of use to friends whom he so greatly esteemed, and he only wished that he could have brought news to relieve anxiety, instead of creating it.

By this time word was brought that the more substantial meal which had been ordered for Mr. Bertram was ready in the dining-room, and Darcy escorted him thither, to attend to his wants and to obtain the particulars as to his journey from Leicestershire. The distance was forty-five miles, and Darcy proposed to start within half an hour, and reach his destination some time during the night, but he pressed his visitor to stay at least until the next day, and if he would, to rest himself and his horses.

Their peaceful evening had been turned into confusion and wretchedness. The quiet circle in the drawing-room was broken up, and Mrs. Grant, fearing greatly for her sister, was thankful to lead her to her own room, there to recover as best she might from the frightful shock of Tom Bertram's news. Darcy soon went upstairs to prepare for his journey, and his wife busied herself with helping him, and with placing in his luggage any article she could think of that might conduce to the sick man's comfort, while a maze of thoughts occupied her mind, chilling fear, apprehension, and dread of what might be happening to the loved friend at such a distance, and anxiety on account of Miss Crawford, whose trembling and distressed condition had not escaped her.