“What does it matter?” Jane spoke up, barely more than a whisper at first, but gaining in strength. “What does it matter? Mr. Maddox, my daughter – who is of an age where she should be a mature and polished young lady– has been running around in the woods, fighting and nearly getting herself killed! She’s ... – ” But she sobbed, leaning into her husband again. “What are we going to do?”
Seeing that he needed to try to salvage the situation and prevent Jane from making any more connections between her daughter and the mess with Hatcher, Darcy said, “Mr. Hatcher shot a wolf, if it was even real to begin with, or just one of his hallucinations. Obviously the man was crazy.”
“Obviously,” Bingley chimed in.
“So The Wolf died. Or never existed. Who knows? England is full of such legends. I imagine they’ll be telling it some years from now in a tavern somewhere and one us will overhear and try not to laugh.” Even if he didn’t feel like doing so in his heart, he offered them a weak smile at the idea.
They decided it was a good one.
*****************************************
Georgiana’s surgery began, unfortunately, with the cold pliers waking her from her exhausted sleep enough to cry out.
“I’ll hold her,” Daniel said, pressing down on the wound to stop the bleeding as much as possible. “Make the opiate.” Measuring things was easier for Caroline than it was for him, so he had taught her the recipe. “Quickly.”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” she said. “We should have told them.”
“Yes. I did insist they have another surgeon ready when I heard about Geoffrey being missing, but I didn’t tell them why. And when we appeared for support, they just assumed.” Georgiana squirmed and he stroked her hair with his free hand. “Shhh. You’re going to be all right. And you’re going to feel much better in a few minutes, I promise.” He could hear the clinking as his wife stirred up the potion. “You’ve been very brave.”
“Exceptionally brave,” Caroline said, oddly with none of her usual sarcasm. “Open up.” She served up a spoonful of the green concoction and Georgiana managed to swallow it. “One or two?”
“Considering her height and weight – probably one. We’ll start with one. Georgiana, you’ll tell us if you’re in too much pain, won’t you?” He took her hand. It was so incredibly small in his own. “Just squeeze my hand. All right?”
Somehow, she managed to nod into the pillow.
Caroline took up her position on his other side again, and they waited a few minutes for Georgiana’s body to slacken before pulling away the towel to expose the wound again. It was on her side, very close to her breast. Maddox put on his spectacles and peered in for a very close look.
“Does your profession normally have you gazing at a woman’s breasts?”
“Not nearly enough,” he said. “Now, the trick is to find the bullet without harming her lung. I believe it’s buried in muscle. If we have to cut her side, that’s all right. There are no organs there.” He looked up at his wife. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Are you sure you are?”
“It was my damned pride that got us into this position. If I had told them how blind I was – ”
“Daniel, you’re not blind,” she said as she pried open the entrance wound with the forceps. Georgiana did not move. “Your vision is suffering but you could still make a diagnosis. And you treated Geoffrey in that camp.”
“It wasn’t hard. His injuries are mainly internal, and there was little I could do in any case.”
“How serious is it?” she said as he leaned in to guide her hand, searching for the bullet.
“I’d rather let Doctor Fergus make the formal assessment, but at the very least, he’s blown out one of his ears and his head is seriously concussed. The fact that he was captive while injured certainly didn’t help.” He pointed. “There. Do you see it?”
“I see something moving.”
“That’s her lung. It goes in and out when she breathes. But – there’s something there, between the muscles. I think it’s – silver. Instead of lead. So it’s not black.”
“Is that normal?”
“For hunting werewolves, I suppose,” he said. “Hatcher must have really been bothered to get silver bullets for his rifle. There, you see it?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll hold the wound open – you extract it. It’s not buried in bone, so it shouldn’t be hard.” His wife didn’t immediately answer, and he looked up to see her face was slightly green. “Do you need to be ill?”
“No,” she said with a very definitive swallow.
“Because it’s best not to vomit on the patient.”
“Now you’re trying to make me laugh. This is serious.”
“All the more reason for us to pass the time in this sort of conversation. It eases the mind.”
“Then why do you work alone?”
“I haven’t found an assistant with a decent sense of humor. Or one willing to put up with mine. And I think you’ve got it.”
“I just pull it out?”
“Slowly, yes.”
At last the bullet was freed from its fleshy prison and Caroline held it up for a moment, incredulous of her own accomplishment, before dropping it in the pan next to her. “She’ll probably want to keep it or something.”
“Victims of gunshots usually treasure the bullet or want nothing to do with even the sight of it. It’s one or the other. Makes no sense.”
She stole a glance at him as he passed her the sewing thread and needle. “You are a wholly different person when talking to your patients and when they are unconscious.”
“Levity is the only way to get through this sort of business, my dear. I once had a professor – in France of course – who insisted on having a man sit and play the violin during important surgeries, so he would have a musical accompaniment.”
“You’re serious?”
“Aren’t I always?” he said with a smile. “Let’s take one last look at the muscle – ” He ducked in again. “Torn, but muscles heal. The point is, he missed organs and arteries, which don’t heal so easily.” He held the flesh together so she could begin sewing to his instructions.
“What doesn’t heal so easily is her mind, which she’s obviously lost,” Caroline said.
“Well, you can’t blame my brother for that. Not her blood relation.”
“Your brother? I blame my brother and his stupid obsession with the east. And her cutting her hair – that should have been a warning sign. I would have sent her straight to school.”
“It would be torture for her,” he said. “Worse than what we’re doing now.”
“Are you presuming to know my niece better than I do?” Caroline was, as she had said, a very accomplished woman and sewing came easy to her, even if it was flesh instead of fabric.
“Hardly. But Surely you don’t imagine she would enjoy a girl’s school.”
“Of course not,” she conceded. “But she needs it. Am I making too many stitches?”
“Better too many than too few,” he said. “Not too tight. There, I think you have it. Georgiana?” There was no response from the girl. “Wash up. I’m going to turn her a bit.” As Caroline washed her hands, he bandaged the site and positioned the pillows so she was on her back but partially propped up on her side, pulling pressure and blood away from the wound. He called for a clean shirt – Georgiana could hardly be expected to be maneuvered into a dress in her condition – and upon receiving it, redressed her.
“Was I a good surgeon?” Caroline asked.
“Very good,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “I’ve never seen stitches that were quite so pretty.”
*****************************************
Bingley and Jane had initially decided they would sit by her side in shifts, but quickly relented, as neither was willing to give the first shift to the other. They sat together instead, Jane holding her daughter’s hand as she slept on. Considering the pain she w
as going to be in when she woke, Doctor Maddox encouraged that she be allowed her peace for as long as it lasted.
“Charles,” Jane said, leaning into his shoulder. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“We should send her to seminary.”
“I couldn’t bear to send my daughter away to a place she would despise,” he said.
“Neither would I,” Jane said softly.
“We could bring Eliza out and send them both to Town for a bit, even move the family there. Charlie is in Eton most of the year anyway,” he said. “And, certainly, we must hire a better governess for Eliza. If anyone is truly to blame, it is us for our hiring practices. The next one should keep out a better eye for what our daughters are doing and which type of animal they choose to dress up as.”
Jane laughed into his shoulder. “You’re driving me to distraction.”
“Certainly my intention. We could all use some distraction.”
Eventually, they were both falling asleep in their chairs, a very uncomfortable situation indeed, and after being startled awake by almost toppling over, Jane convinced Bingley to finally clean himself up and go to sleep while she kept watch.
It was early dawn when he was awoken. He kissed his wife, said hello to a tired Darcy in the hallway, and took up the vigil. He was nearly asleep again when he noticed Georgiana’s eyes were open, and probably had been for some time. He sat up, more alert.
“Is Geoffrey alive?”
For some reason, the question stunned him. Her voice was ragged, but still carried an amount of her usual cool composure, as if nothing bizarre had happened. Bingley stuttered, “Yes.”
“Oh.” She closed her eyes again. “Good.”
He thought maybe she would sleep again, and leaned in and kissed her head. He was surprised when she took a tighter grip on his hand and said, “Can I see him?”
“Who? Oh,” he said. “No, I’m afraid Doctor Maddox said it’s best for you not to move for a bit, in case you’ve forgotten about your own injuries.”
“No,” she said. “I have not.”
“Georgiana,” he said, “are you in pain?”
She said nothing.
“You can tell me,” he said desperately. “I’m your father.” Georgiana had always been secretive, even as a small child, but now it went beyond all reason. “Well, I’m not waiting for you to announce it.” He got up, retrieved the bottle of opiate, and poured her a spoonful, forcing it into her mouth. “And he said you should drink something. You lost – ” He stammered. “You lost a lot of blood yesterday.” He helped her sit up enough to drink a full glass of juice.
When he went to put it back, she grabbed the end of his waistcoat, “Papa,” she said, her voice softer. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt. Worried, but not hurt. Your father is stronger than you believe him to be.”
“You’re crying.”
He was beginning to do so. The exhaustion from the events of the day before, the trial of comforting his wife, and the pain of what seemed to be an endless chasm between him and his eldest daughter – it was too much. He could talk so easily to Charlie or Eliza or even Edmund, but not Georgiana. Granted, she did speak to him more than her own mother, but there was always a distance. She was distant from everybody.
Except, of course, Geoffrey Darcy.
“I think I’m allowed to be a little upset when my daughter has been shot,” he said, returning to his seat. “Just like you’re allowed to admit when you feel discomfort.”
“Did he take out the bullet or did it go through?”
“She, actually,” Bingley said. “You know your uncle is going blind, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the work was too difficult for him, and we had no one else. So your Aunt Caroline did it.” This time, the expression on her face was not a mask. “Yes, I know. Our family is prone to strange obsessions and acts of courage, it seems. She took out the bullet – a silver bullet.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Bingley said. “Really.”
“Where in the world did he get a silver rifle bullet?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Well...” Weak as she was, her face was lit by a smile. “Good thing I’m not a real werewolf, then, I suppose.”
“Yes,” he laughed, taking her hand and holding it until she fell back to sleep.
Chapter 17 – Anger and Accusations
Fortunately for the Darcys, Constable Morris escorted Mr. Wallace to the gaol in Lambton and was busy interrogating him there for the remainder of the day. As soon as Dr. Maddox reappeared from Georgiana’s surgery, he checked on Geoffrey’s condition. By then the Darcy sisters had seen their brother, who, aside from the bandage around his head, had been cleaned up and put into cleaner bedclothes, and looked like he was sleeping. When the doctor returned, he put on his heavy spectacles, which looked more like goggles, and turned Geoffrey’s head to the side to look in his right ear. Though they had cleaned the outside, he made a further inspection. Elizabeth gave a little shriek when he withdrew blood.
Dr. Maddox had Geoffrey’s manservant help him turn his head carefully to the other side, and held a mirror to get the candlelight precisely right. The doctor sighed again and set the boy’s head aright. “The bad news is that his right ear is most likely blown.”
“From the rifle blast?”
“Combined with his concussion, most likely. I’m not an expert, but it appears his eardrum has burst. The good news is that the other side is merely inflamed. In time, the inflammation should go down. But again ...” The doctor shifted uncomfortably.
“I understand.” Darcy only wanted the best for his son anyway, and Dr. Maddox was willing to admit where he was not the best and had sent for Dr. Fergus.
“It will take several days for Dr. Fergus to get here. As long as the canal doesn’t close, Geoffrey should recover his hearing.”
“And the rest of him?”
Again, Dr. Maddox did not look so comfortable. “He needs to wake up soon, Mr. Darcy.”
“He was awake, just hours ago.”
“I know. But there was damage after that. Still, his pulse is strong and there are no other injuries to him, so he is under the best conditions to begin to heal. And he was in excellent health to begin with.” Dr. Maddox said, “I think there is good reason to be hopeful.”
Darcy knew he did not need to have a private word with Maddox; Dr. Maddox knew Elizabeth well enough to tell the whole truth in front of her. “And Georgiana?”
“She will mend. The bullet didn’t strike anything vital,” he said. “She was extremely lucky.”
Darcy withheld commentary. He felt for the Bingleys, but Geoffrey took precedence, and Geoffrey was half-deaf and in a coma – but he was home. He was home in his bed, and they didn’t have to worry where he was anymore, or what he was thinking, because he was so peacefully asleep. In fact, Darcy fell asleep in the very chair he sat in, watching his son’s breathing.
*****************************************
The morning sun was very cruel on the Darcys. It was a reminder that they were the master and mistress of Pemberley, and that a world existed behind that room, and beyond their son, and they would have guests to attend to, and doctors they to consult, and the constable to speak with. There would be an inquiry, of course.
“Sir?” Reed, Darcy’s manservant, cautiously approached him as he wandered into the hallway, and subtly began to imply that he might want to wash up and have a change of clothes before dealing with what the day had to bring. Elizabeth’s lady-maid approached for much the same purpose, and for the first time in her life (or as much as Darcy could recall), Elizabeth asked to be excused from all of her duties as mistress of Pemberley.
“Someone should stay with him,” was all she said, and that was that. Geoffrey’s condition had not changed.
Darcy reluctantly left his son for his own quarters, and eventually found Bingley at the
bottom of the stairs, in a sorry state and still wearing the clothes from yesterday. Darcy tactfully ignored this and the fact that his eyes were red. “How is she?”
“She’s been shot,” Bingley snapped. “How do you think?” He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry – I should not have – ”
“Bingley, I understand,” Darcy said, because he did.
“She won’t even talk to me. Have I been such a bad father?”
“My daughters don’t talk to me,” Darcy said.
“This is entirely different and you know it! What do you have to worry about? That Sarah is too withdrawn? That Anne is too eager to be out?”
“That my son is dying,” Darcy replied before he could check himself.
Bingley had no response to that. His friend was as near to breaking as he had been when Geoffrey was missing. At least his son being home should bring him some level of peace.
“Mr. Darcy,” Jane’s very polite but tired voice sounded from behind, and Darcy turned and bowed to her. “How is Geoffrey?”
“The same. Dr. Maddox has called in a specialist for his ears.”
“But he’s still unconscious.”
“Yes.”
There was nothing else left in her to say. She instead embraced her husband. They were probably taking shifts, as Elizabeth was with Darcy. Georgiana was out of danger, but still very badly wounded.
“Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley. Mrs. Bingley,” Brian Maddox said, announcing his presence. “I’ve just spoken to the constable.”
“And what is the story?”
“The same as it was, except that the man dressed as a wolf was not recovered, and we have no interest in pursuing the matter further, considering Geoffrey’s condition.”
“Oh,” Darcy said. Seeing the constable was really the last thing on his mind. “We will keep that in mind.”
The Knights of Derbyshire Page 19
