F. Darcy (fdarcy) wrote in sanditon, @ 2021-02-07 08:58:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | character: fitzwilliam darcy, character: henry tilney, character: penelope featherington, player: mira, player: piper, player: teffy, status: in progress, status: open |
Who: Fitzwilliam Darcy, Penelope Featherington, OPEN
What: A gentleman in some distress
When: One week after Georgiana mailed her letter
Where: Roughly a mile out from Sanditon, on the cliff side road
Fitzwilliam Darcy cursed under breath as he surveyed his surroundings. His horse had disappeared over the crest of the hill to his right, leaving him alone in unfamiliar country, bruised and barely able to stand. His destination was in view, no more than a mile to the south, but considering Darcy’s current state, it might as well have been thrice that distance.
Bitterly he mused that his present situation—in which he found himself dirty, injured, and delayed from seeing his sister—was the fault of Charles Bingley.
Bingley, along with his relations, had only recently been visiting Pemberley with the intention of staying the whole summer. Darcy had also arranged for his sister Georgiana to join the party, and her presence had been his one source of joy in what felt like a season of misery. The siblings had not been able to spend sufficient time together in nearly a year, and he had hoped the comfort of home would restore her long subdued spirits, if not begin to ease his own heartache.
Their party had been at Darcy’s northern estate only a fortnight before his guests were clamoring to leave for the southern coast. More specifically, Bingley had heard rave reviews of a resort called Sanditon from a friend, wished desperately to see the place, and had spent the visit talking of little else. His sisters, perhaps simply to end his proselytizing, finally agreed that sea bathing did sound agreeable beyond all measure.
A plan for the trip was thus made and executed with alacrity. The female members of the party preceded the men, and on the eve of his own departure, Darcy received a vague yet distressing letter from Georgiana. This resulted in a desire to travel to Sanditon directly and with all possible haste on his part, but Bingley was unconcerned, and insisted he needed to stop in town on their way to the coast.
“If they were in real danger, your sister certainly would have said as much,” had been Bingley’s reasoning, his outlook in accordance with his sanguine nature.
Darcy did not share the same confidence. Past experience had taught him to recognize prevarication in his sister’s letters, but he could not explain his misgivings to Bingley without a certain event coming to light. Instead he kept his silence, and remained tense for the three-day journey, which only invited more reassurances from his friend.
In town the gentlemen parted ways, perhaps with some abruptness from Darcy, but his reserve of patience was by then depleted. Shortly after sunrise the following morning, Darcy left for Sanditon on horseback. The weather was clear and the journey smooth until he changed horses at the final post. Here, he realized in hindsight, is where his fortunes reversed (and would later admit, in a calmer state of mind, when he would have to shift blame from his friend to himself). Shortly after setting out, the rented horse turned skittish, which in other circumstances would at least have given him pause. But with the sea already in view and judgement clouded by anxiety, Darcy thought only of the urgency of his task and pressed on.
Not an hour later, the inevitable occurred: a bird took sudden flight from the coastal cliff, and panicked the agitated horse. It jumped to the side, unseating Darcy, and his foot twisted as it came out of the stirrup. He felt only shock as his back impacted the grass covered ground, and could do nothing but stare dazed at the sky for some moments. By the time he could bring himself to sit up, the horse had galloped far beyond his reach.
Standing was a challenge, but once on his feet, Darcy discovered that maintaining his balance would be the real obstacle. Anything more than lightly resting the sole of his right foot on the ground caused pain to radiate from his ankle. He believed (or rather hoped) it only sprained, but he dared not remove his boot to confirm.
The majestic prospect of the ocean barely registered as Darcy evaluated his options. He could either attempt the walk to Sanditon, or wait for some passerby to assist. Waiting was the more sensible course of action if he wanted to avoid aggravating his injury, but Darcy’s own wellbeing was immaterial when compared to his sister’s safety. Walking maximized both his speed and chances of encountering help; therefore the choice was easy.
Darcy turned and began to search the grass for something to use as a makeshift cane. Mirthlessly he smiled and muttered, “It seems all Darcys are fated to meet ‘a bit of trouble’ on the way to this blasted town.”
Status: In-progress