“Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze with calm assurance, “do come in. My husband is away on business at the church. Please, excuse him. That said, your sister is safe and attended to upstairs. She is in no immediate danger, though naturally shaken by the ordeal.”
He inclined his head, a flicker of profound relief passing across his features before composure reclaimed it entirely. “I am deeply obliged to you, Mrs. Collins, for your care and discretion in this matter. May I see her?”
Nothing more was required at that moment; he did not press for particulars she had not yet offered, nor demand explanations before assuring himself of Georgiana’s well-being. His concern, though evident in the slight tightening about his eyes, remained governed by the restraint that had ever marked his character.
At Charlotte’s gentle indication, he proceeded upstairs with measured steps. Georgiana was seated upon a low chair near the window, wrapped in a warm shawl and newly changed into dry garments, her colour still subdued but her manner restored to a quiet steadiness. At the sight of her brother entering the room, she rose slightly from her seat, then checked the motion, a faint tremor betraying the lingering effects of her trial.
“Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, her voice steady yet touched with unmistakable relief at his presence.
He crossed to her at once, taking her hand in his with a gentleness that conveyed more than words might have allowed, his voice low and even as he searched her face for reassurance. “I am here, Georgiana. Mrs. Collins assures me you are unharmed, and I see with my own eyes that you are safe. Thank God.”
“I am,” she replied, returning the pressure of his hand with quiet gratitude, her eyes meeting his in a look that spoke of trust long established and now profoundly reaffirmed. “Shaken, perhaps, but unharmed—thanks to the timely intervention of Mr. Elias Bennet and his brother.”
That was enough for the moment. He neither questioned her further nor examined her condition with overt solicitude, but remained beside her a little longer, his presence quiet and anchoring, a silent bulwark against the lingering shadows of fear, until Georgiana herself released his hand with a faint, reassuring nod that conveyed her returning composure.
Darcy’s expression softened at her words, a flicker of deep emotion passing across his features before he mastered it, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles in silent comfort. “Then I am doubly in his debt, and in Mrs. Collins’s, for preserving you from greater harm. But you must rest now, my dear sister—no further exertion, no further reflection upon the matter. Your strength has been sorely tried.”
Georgiana hesitated, her fingers tightening briefly upon his as though reluctant to release the reassurance of his presence. “I am not certain I could sleep,” she admitted in a murmur, her gaze dropping to their joined hands, “though I confess I feel exceedingly weary.”
“You will sleep,” he replied with gentle firmness, his tone admitting no contradiction yet softened by the affection that had ever governed his guardianship of her. “I shall remain below and see to all that needs attention. Nothing more shall disturb you today—I give you my word.”
She searched his face a moment longer, drawing strength from the quiet resolve in his eyes, and at last allowed a faint, trusting nod. “Very well, Fitzwilliam. I shall try—for your sake, if not my own.”
He pressed her hand once more before releasing it, rising with care as though unwilling to hasten the parting. “That is my good sister,” he said softly, a rare warmth touching his voice. “Rest, and know that all is in hand.”
With a final lingering look that conveyed volumes of protective devotion, he withdrew, closing the door behind him with scarcely a sound, leaving Georgiana to the quiet care of the maid and the soothing influence of the room’s stillness.
Descending the stairs with deliberate composure, Mr. Darcy’s expression had altered—grave purpose now overlaying the reliefhe had permitted himself upstairs, his mind turning inexorably to the account that awaited him.
In the hall below, the maid waited to accompany Mr. Darcy to the parlour, where Mrs. Collins stood ready, flanked by Elias and James Bennet. Darcy’s eye took in the scene without comment or visible perturbation, yet the set of his jaw and the cool intensity of his gaze betrayed the anger he held firmly in check.
“Mrs. Collins,” he said quietly, his voice low and controlled, “I would hear the full particulars now, if you please. My sister rests upstairs, but I must understand precisely what has transpired before I take further steps.”
Charlotte inclined her head with composed understanding, her voice calm yet conveying the gravity of the events. “Mr. James Bennet and his brother witnessed the incident most directly and can relate it with greater accuracy than I, sir. Please, let us be seated.”
After they all sat, James Bennet coughed slightly, as if to prepare his voice, and offered his account plainly and exactly, without conjecture or embellishment: of what he and his brother had witnessed from the Hunsford side of the water; of Miss Darcy’s evident agitation upon the bridge; of the seizure of her wrist by the other man, whose behaviour was wholly ungentlemanlike; of her courageous resistance and unfortunate fall; and of the failure of that same individual to render any assistance whatsoever. James then told Mr. Darcy how he rushed in pursuit of the man, and how his brother Elias jumped into the water to save Miss Darcy from drowning.
Mr. Darcy listened without interruption, his posture unchanging, though the set of his jaw tightened perceptibly and a shadow deepened in his eyes as the narrative unfolded—a shadow born not of surprise, but of a long-suppressed angernow fully awakened, his fingers flexing slightly at his sides as if restraining the impulse to act prematurely. When James Bennet concluded, a brief silence followed, during which Darcy’s gaze remained fixed upon some distant point, mastering the emotion that threatened to disturb his equanimity, his breath drawing in deeply as he absorbed the full measure of the peril his sister had faced.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” he said at last, his voice low and measured, turning to Elias with a gravity that conveyed profound obligation, his eyes meeting the young man’s in a look of sincere regard that held a new depth of respect. “You acted with decisive propriety in a moment when few might have preserved such presence of mind. My sister—and I—stand deeply in your debt, a debt I shall not forget.”
Elias inclined his head, a faint warmth touching his cheeks at the acknowledgement, yet his reply remained modest, his voice steady despite the weight of Darcy’s gaze. “I did only what necessity demanded, sir. Miss Darcy’s safety was my sole concern, and I am relieved beyond measure that she is restored.”
Darcy regarded him a moment longer, as though measuring not merely the words but the character behind them, and a subtle approval softened the severity of his expression, a nod conveying respect that went beyond mere gratitude. “Necessity was well served, then, sir,” he replied quietly, the words carrying a weight that lingered between them like an unspoken promise of future regard. “It surprises me that a young man from Hertfordshire knows how to swim. Most lads living inland never learn.”
Elias Bennet inclined his head slightly, a faint, modest smile touching his lips as he met Mr. Darcy’s gaze with quiet composure. “My father used to say that a second son must learn everything he can, so that it might prove useful one day. In ourcase, it was more than counsel. During our summers as children, we visited our grandmother at Great Amwell, on the banks of the River Lea. All my brothers learned to swim there, and I suppose the habit never left us.”
Darcy’s brows lifted faintly, a glimmer of genuine amusement softening his features as he considered the answer. “Then I must congratulate your father on the wisdom of his precept. My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam is likewise a second son, and there are few men his equal in fencing, wrestling, boxing, riding, archery, or pistol-shooting. Yet, alas, he cannot swim—a deficiency he freely admits, though it has cost him nothing in the field.”
Elias’s smile deepened, a quiet warmth entering his eyes at the unexpected lightness of the exchange. “Then I am glad my father’s lessons proved useful, sir, even if only in a moment of necessity. I suspect the Colonel’s skills have served him far more often than mine ever will.”
Mr. Darcy gave a low, brief sound of amusement, the sound carrying a rare note of genuine regard that warmed the quiet parlour for an instant. “Perhaps. But in this instance, Mr. Bennet, your father’s counsel has preserved what no amount of fencing or pistol-shooting could have done. I am grateful for it—and for you.”
Elias inclined his head modestly, a faint flush of colour touching his cheeks at the sincerity in Darcy’s words, though he sought at once to deflect the attention from himself. “You are very kind, sir,” he replied, his voice steady yet gentle, before turning with evident pride toward his brother. “My brother forgot to mention that he caught the man who molested Miss Darcy.”
James straightened slightly, acknowledging the praise with a brief nod that betrayed neither vanity nor discomfort, while Elias continued, his tone carrying the quiet admiration of one who knew his brother’s worth. “They had a small struggle, but there are few men who could match James in either strength or fair fight. He seized him and brought him here unharmed, though the man protested every step.”
“Oh, did he?” Mr. Darcy’s face brightened at once. His gaze shifted to James Bennet, a new measure of respect entering his expression as he regarded the elder Bennet with the same careful scrutiny he had earlier bestowed upon Elias. “Then I am doubly indebted to you both, Mr. Bennet,” he said, addressing James directly, his voice low and measured, yet carrying a weight of sincere obligation. “To have restrained such a man without violence or scandal is no small feat. My sister’s safety—and her reputation—owe much to your restraint as well as your strength.”
