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Unfamiliar sounds greeted Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam as he awoke. The last thing he remembered was being on the beaches of Normandy, commanding troops and shooting at the enemy every now and then. Now, though, he had no idea where he was.
He looked around a little, and realised very quickly that he was in a hospital. He looked down the length of his body and found his right leg bound in bandages and a cast. Clearly, he’d been injured. He reached up, and found a bandage around his head. Ah. That was the source of the being unconscious. He soon realised, though, that he had no idea how long he’d been out cold.
“Nurse!” He called when one passed, “what day is it?”
“Oh Colonel, you’re awake!” The nurse replied, calling over a doctor to check him over, “it’s June 10th, Sir”
June tenth. He’d been unconscious for four days, give or take. He’d gone over on the 6th, supported by the Parachute regiments. He landed on Sword Beach with the 3rd British Infantry, and then he remembered nothing. He glanced over at the window, and it looked remarkably peaceful outside. He surmised he’d been brought home to England, but he had no idea where. He had some vague idea of having preferential treatment because of his father’s, and his own, status in the aristocracy, but he had never imagined it would extend to being sent home for relatively minor injuries.
The doctor was satisfied that, whilst he’d been unconscious for a while, there had been no significant injury to Richard’s head, and he was allowed to go home.
He decided to go to Rosings Park. The Matlock estate in Hampshire had been turned into a convalescent home for the period of the war, but his aunt Lady Catherine simply Would Not Have Other People in her house. She’d given over some of the land for victory gardens, being primarily worked by her parson Mr Collins’ wife. It would be relatively peaceful for him, he could use his injuries as an excuse to avoid his aunt, his recent stay in hospital and any lingering infections, gave him an excuse to keep away from his sickly cousin Anne.
It would be quiet, there would be fresh air, and there would be something to do when he was better, providing he wasn’t sent back to France. It seemed perfect.
He telephoned his Aunt and spoke to the housekeeper, who told her that one of Mrs Collins’ friends was staying with them, and had offered to drive up to where Richard was in hospital in Hertfordshire, as it was close to her family. Richard agreed to be picked up by her, and he started packing what little things he had with him.
Mrs Collins’ friend turned out to be a revelation to Richard. She sped up the drive of the hospital, grinding to a halt in front of him. She jumped out, dark green Land Girl jumper tucked into tan utility slacks. Her dark hair was haphazardly thrown up in a bun, seemingly held up by nothing. She was, in short, a poster girl for the war.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, I presume?” She said, sticking out a hand for him to shake.
“That would be me, Miss-” He faltered, as he shook her hand.
“Elizabeth Bennet”
She helped Richard into the car, and threw his small suitcase in the back, before she jumped into the front of the car, and sped off again. Richard held onto the dashboard briefly, and she took it as a signal to slow down.
They chatted about this and that on the drive back down to Kent, speeding through the seemingly endless English countryside.
“How’s the leg?” Elizabeth asked, after a while. She had wondered what the extent of Richard’s injuries were, as he’d said nothing on the phone, but on the surface it didn’t seem like it was anything too dramatic.
“You know as much as I do really, I assume it is broken but I have absolutely no idea what happened” Richard replied, tapping his cast with the walking stick he’d been given at the hospital.
They seemed to arrive at Rosings in no time, their conversation making the journey pass quickly.
Richard was hurried inside by the housekeeper to see his Aunt, as much as he didn’t want to, and Elizabeth marched off through the gardens towards the vegetable patches. As he talked to Lady Catherine about the landings, and what he remembered of it, and the state of his leg, all he could think about was Elizabeth Bennet. He knew she was a friend of Mrs Collins, the lovely wife of Lady Catherine’s ridiculous parson Mr Collins, but apart from that, and her work with the Land Army, he knew very little about her. He knew she was from Hertfordshire, as she had told him on the drive back she had relished the chance to even drive through her beloved home county. That was approximately it. Yet, she occupied his every thought as he slowly climbed the stairs, sat down, pushing himself up with his arms. Why Lady Catherine had insisted he stay in his usual bedroom rather than a converted drawing room downstairs he did not know, but he had learnt the hard way not to argue with her.
The following day, Richard felt compelled to make his way out to the victory gardens on the estate on his crutches. He wasn’t sure why, until he caught a glimpse of Elizabeth drinking tea from an enamel mug with chipped white paint on it. Ah. That was why. He wanted to see Elizabeth. He hobbled over, and Elizabeth quickly vacated her seat on a haybale, and gestured for him to take a seat. She poured him a mug of tea in an equally knackered mug to her own from a flask, and sat down on the ground beside him.
“Coming to inspect the troops, Colonel?” She quipped as she handed him the mug.
“Nothing of the sort, Miss Bennet,” he replied, “simply enjoying the sunshine and enjoying not being shot at”
Elizabeth finished her tea and got back to work, working her way across the vegetable patch closest to where Richard was sitting.
“Lady Catherine is your aunt, isn’t she?” Elizabeth asked. She knew that the Colonel wasn’t Lady Catherine’s son, but she wasn’t entirely sure of how they all fitted together. Mr Collins had endeavoured to tell her the night before, but she’d been too distracted by the music on the wireless to listen. She was sure the music was more interesting than Mr Collins.
“She is, my father’s sister” Richard replied, “my father’s country home is currently a convalescent home, which is the sort of place I ought to be, but I didn’t want to be in a hospital bed in my own home, and the rest of my family are staying with my cousin Darcy in Derbyshire at the moment, though they have been living in London”
“Do you have a big family?”
“I am the second of five, an elder brother and three younger sisters”
“I’m second of five, too,” Elizabeth replied, “we’re all girls though”
“Five girls? That’s intense”
“You have no idea” Elizabeth mused, thinking about the ridiculous behaviour of her younger sisters around the soldiers stationed in Meryton, her hometown, the second the war started. Lydia and Kitty’s behaviour was one of the things that had pushed Elizabeth to join the war effort. She wasn’t cut out to be a Wren or in the WAAF, so the Land Army had seemed a good fit. As she sat in the gardens of Rosings Park, drinking tea with Colonel Fitzwilliam, she realised she’d made the right decision.
Colonel Fitzwilliam kept her company throughout the afternoon, providing conversation and companionship whilst Elizabeth went about her work in the vegetable patch. Richard was fascinated by what she was growing, and wished he could help her more with it.
Their conversation continued over dinner at Rosings, something Elizabeth was very surprised that she’d been invited to. She’d only been invited up a handful of times before, and she’d been at the Collinses for nearly a year. She wondered idly if the Colonel had had anything to with it, before she realised it was ridiculous.
“It’s not ridiculous, he sat with you all afternoon keeping you company whilst you planted things” Charlotte reasoned, “I’d be surprised if there was any other reason for your being at dinner, you know what Lady Catherine is like”
Over the next few weeks, as Richard started to get back on his feet as his leg healed, Elizabeth found herself at Rosings for dinner more and more often. She still refused to believe it was anything more than friendliness from the Colonel, no matter how much she felt herself thinking about him more and more. She’d realised, a few weeks after his arrival, that she’d hardly stopped thinking about him. Her heart jumped a little whenever she saw him.
She was in love with him.
It was an abrupt realisation, after he backed her up in an argument with Lady Catherine, over what she should be growing in the victory gardens. Lady Catherine had been trying to argue for god knows what from a position of ignorance, a position that she maintained on all topics, and Elizabeth was irritated enough that day to argue back. Richard had backed her up, and she’d felt her heart surge.
He grabbed her arm as she was about to leave, keeping them a little way behind Charlotte and Mr Collins.
“I’m sorry about her” He said, nodding slightly towards his aunt.
“I’m sorry you had to step in” Elizabeth replied, “I couldn’t help myself”
Richard smiled widely, “you were marvellous, Elizabeth, really”
Then, Elizabeth found she couldn’t help it. She leant forward and kissed him gently, pulling away quickly. She went to turn around and walk away, but Richard grabbed her and pulled her back to him, kissing her with all the love he had.
“You are one hell of a woman, Miss Bennet” He murmured between kisses.
“Well I try” Elizabeth replied, giggling. She’d never been a giggler, but at that moment she couldn’t help it.
Elizabeth was glad that Richard’s leg healed properly with no complications, as it meant he could get down on one knee on VE Day, and ask her to marry him.
She said yes.