“Just a second,” Richard said, and Elizabeth heard him walking and then opening a door. He spoke a few words away from the phone, and then, “You’re in Bloomfield?”
“Yes,” Jane replied.
“Will asked me to give you his direct line,” he said. He gave her the number, and Elizabeth lifted her hand to rub the back of her neck. She hated to worry Will for nothing. And what did they mean, trying to call all night?
Jane told Richard to give her number to Will. “I’ll wait for you, then,” she said.
“We’ll be on the road in five,” he replied. “Call if anything changes.”
Jane hung up, and Elizabeth heard her sigh. The other side of the sofa sank a bit, and there was something cold pressing into her arm. Elizabeth cracked one eye open to see that Jane had filled her metal thermos with water. She took it and lifted it to her lips for a drink.
“Calvary’s coming, hon,” Jane promised, and Elizabeth imagined Will and Richard on horses.
Jane’s voice was a bit more sympathetic now that Elizabeth had confessed to being ill. “I’ll bring your toothbrush. Just keep sipping the water.”
Jane returned with the toothbrush and then walked away to make another call. Elizabeth heard something about low blood pressure and dehydration. She would have liked to tell her sister to stop being so dramatic, but Jane’s back was turned.
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to summon the energy to tend to her teeth. She’d meant Richard’s homecoming to be perfect, wanted Thanksgiving to be wonderful for everyone, and now she’d messed it all up. She’d even managed to make an enemy of Will’s sister somehow. She took another sip of water, set the bottle down, and felt herself drifting back to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Thirty minutes after placing the call to Major Fitzwilliam, Jane heard the heavy thumping of someone taking the stairs two at a time.
“Your prince is here,” she teased softly, smiling when Lizzy’s lip curled into a sneer.
She stood to open the door, and, as she had expected, Will Darcy blew past her with only a simple “Jane.” He immediately moved to Elizabeth and crouched in front of her, scanning her appearance with his eyes while brushing one hand along the side of her face.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his expression pinched and anxious. “Shit, you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” she replied in a low voice. “Good to see you, too.”
“C’mon,” he ordered. “Put your arm around my neck.”
“I can walk,” Elizabeth huffed. Will helped her stand and, without a word, swept her up into his arms.
“You know,” another man said from the doorway, “I’m standing right here—another strong, virile man able to help convey the princess to her carriage. Maybe she’d even prefer me.” Jane looked him over, glad to finally see him in person. Major Fitzwilliam.
“Shut up, Richard,” Will growled as he carried Elizabeth out of the apartment.
“Welcome home, Richard,” Elizabeth murmured as they passed him.
Major Fitzwilliam glanced at her. He shrugged and scratched his ear. “Well, I’m feeling a bit superfluous,” he said with an exaggerated shrug. “Will she need her ID and insurance card?”
Jane held up her hand to show him Elizabeth’s wallet.
“House key?”
She turned the same hand to show him that it was already hanging from her ring finger.
“All right, then,” the major said. “I’m pretty sure you’re driving, since you know the way. Shall we?” He motioned to the steps, and Jane exited the apartment.
As they hurtled down the parkway, Richard had to admit that Jane Bennet was even wilder behind the wheel than his cousin. Will Darcy handled his Audi with the precision of a racecar driver, and though he was never out of control, he’d broken all kind of speed laws getting them to Bloomfield. Jane Bennet, despite her quiet manner, was a maniac behind the wheel, weaving expertly in and out of the building traffic until she found an opening, stamped her foot down on the accelerator, and shot for daylight. He would have enjoyed himself immensely if he hadn’t seen how ill Elizabeth appeared. Under the circumstances, he thought it best to keep his witty remarks to himself. Instead, he managed a glimpse in the rearview mirror once or twice to watch his uptight cousin place an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders, encouraging her to drink from the water bottle Dr. Bennet had handed him, and speaking to her in a voice too quiet to be overheard.
Richard could feel the tension rolling off Will, but he’d seen Bennet in worse condition, and she’d recovered just fine. She’s tough, Will, he thought sympathetically. Relax. He recalled the conversation he’d had with her a few weeks ago about his view of Will not aligning with hers, and he understood better now.
Will Darcy had always been quick-witted and wryly funny, but nobody beyond his family saw that part of him. He’d been shy as a boy and had grown into one of the most aloof, reserved men he knew. Only Richard understood how much of that coolness was fear. Will had been so afraid of making a mistake in business, in his personal life, in raising his sister, that he’d held everything in, making him appear forbidding and resentful. Even when he’d inevitably made the very errors he feared and recovered well from his missteps, when he’d at last proven himself a success, his habits proved difficult to alter. Looking at Will now, Richard could barely recognize the reticent man who had, for years, given offense to someone nearly everywhere he went. He had offended Bennet, in fact. But she had forgiven Will, seen through his mask, and made him happy. They were a good match. Despite the situation, Richard grinned.
Jane was moving quickly from the left lane to the far right in preparation for exiting the parkway. She glanced up at the rearview mirror and caught Major Fitzwilliam using it to watch Will and her sister. The vision was fleeting, the man’s eyes displaying a tender depth of feeling only for a moment before he realized he was being observed. She thought he might try to hide what he’d been doing, but instead he nodded at the mirror and gave her a merry wink. Jane gave him a full, wide smile in response, and he startled. Her forehead wrinkled. Do I have something in my teeth? She returned her attention to the road.
“We’re almost there, Will,” she called, speeding up suddenly to make a dying green light. “I’m going to pull up in the ER bay and drop you off.” She turned to the major. “Just ask for Dr. Levy. He’s got a treatment room set up for her.”
“Would you rather I park the car so you can go in?” he asked.
“No,” Jane replied, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll only want to be in charge, and she’s family. It’s not allowed. She has Will with her, and I’ll be in shortly.”
Dr. Levy turned out to be a thin man nearly as tall as Will, with a bald head and wiry salt and pepper beard. He was prepared for his charge, quickly ordering a phlebotomist to draw blood and an RN to take a blood pressure reading. He asked Will to leave the small room so there would be space for the others to work. Will complied, but not before whispering in Elizabeth’s ear that he’d be right outside.
“Okay,” Levy said, glancing over his notes as the blood samples were hustled to the lab. “Your sister indicates a service injury and a resultant history of migraines. Correct?”
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth.
Levy made a note. “Do you have one now?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Yes.”
“You had one last night?” Levy persisted.
“Yes.”
“Severe enough to cause vomiting?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes.”
The doctor glanced up at her. “She mentioned a bit about where you were yesterday as well.”
“She packed a lot into a short phone call,” Elizabeth grumbled.
Levy gave her a single nod back. “We’re going to get you on an IV, and you’ll feel better in a few hours.” He tapped the soft end of his stylus on his tablet. “Jane tells me your migraines are usually the result of stress, is that the case?”
Elizabeth looked directly
at the doctor, one eyebrow arched, and replied, “Yes.”
He chuckled. “Well, that seems to be the main culprit here. The severity of the migraine caused the vomiting, which contributed to the dehydration, which resulted in hypotension.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “And all of that was initiated by what I suspect was an unacceptably high stress level. Not that neglecting to eat or drink for nearly a day helped much.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and Levy smiled and patted her knee. “With your permission, I’ll let your boyfriend back in here before he wears a path in the floor outside, and we’ll talk about it some more.”
Richard waited for Dr. Bennet and walked with her back to Elizabeth’s treatment room. She glanced at the door but didn’t go inside. Instead, she pulled out her phone to check the time.
“I need to tell my aunt where we are,” she said, and texted something. Then she shoved her phone back in her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest. Her face was drawn. The door opened abruptly, and Will emerged from the room, gave them a curt nod, and began to pace.
Richard asked Will if he needed anything and was summarily dismissed. He stood in the hallway with Dr. Bennet for a minute, first watching his worried cousin climbing the walls, and then Elizabeth’s sister biting her lip. Richard glanced back and forth between them. Will’s anxiety was feeding Dr. Bennet’s. Finally, he asked, “You want a cup of coffee, Doc?”
Dr. Bennet glanced at the door and hesitated. Finally, she nodded. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you the way.”
The cafeteria wasn’t a horrible place, Richard thought approvingly. It was painted a kind of ocean blue with a white ceiling, and one wall was all windows. The coffee maker was on an honor bar. They poured their coffee, Dr. Bennet adding a packet of sugar and a good deal of milk while Richard stuffed five dollars into a mason jar.
“Thanks,” Jane said, pursing her lips as she watched the milk turn her coffee light brown. She’d been in this room less than eight hours ago with Charles Bingley, sipping herbal tea and engaging in stilted conversation.
Perhaps it was that they were sitting at the same table where she’d been sitting with Charles, but she couldn’t help comparing the two men. Charles Bingley was good-looking in a fresh-faced, boyish kind of way. He’d made jokes that hadn’t always been humorous though it was clear he was intelligent.
Major Fitzwilliam was attractive enough in an outdoorsy sort of way. He had short sandy hair and rugged features. His ears were a little big and his nose was a little wide for his face, but he became quite handsome when he spoke, and she discovered that she found his imperfections rather endearing. He was a little the worse for wear with three long, thin white scars still visible on his neck and a fading network of similar scars on his forearms. Glass, she thought distractedly, trying not to think about the first time they’d spoken.
When she’d called for help this morning, he hadn’t asked a lot of questions or given her a hard time—he’d just listened and responded. She noted the stubble on his face—he apparently hadn’t stopped to shave and found herself grateful that he and Will had rushed right out. He seemed to genuinely care for his cousin and for her sister. He was self-deprecating, and while his humor was at times quite ridiculous, she had to admit that Richard Fitzwilliam was funny. She felt a small smile working its way onto her face as she thought about the antics he and her sister must have engaged in together.
“No problem,” he replied and took a sip. He strangled what she suspected was a curse and nearly spit the drink out. He swallowed with a bitter expression and sputtered, “This is worse than Marine coffee. Is the hospital trying to drum up business?”
Jane laughed softly. “That’s why you saw me adding a lot of milk and some sugar.”
The major got up and returned with a cup of water. “You could warn a guy, Doc,” he groused good-naturedly, sitting down. “I know I was just the good-looking wingman this morning, but you might have need of me someday.”
“I thought Marines were supposed to be tough, Major Fitzwilliam,” Jane replied archly.
He made a production of swishing the water first in one cheek and then the other before replying, “We’re all susceptible to a sneak attack by a friendly. And it’s Richard.”
“Like Richard the Lionheart?” she asked and then blushed. It suited him, but she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He just smiled warmly.
She held up the cup with her coffee, and he tapped it with his own, though he did not drink. “Thank you for making me laugh,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I needed that.”
Richard grinned and nodded. “Glad to be of service.”
Will entered the room, and Elizabeth opened her eyes and gave him a wan smile. He took her hand and then turned to the doctor. “Why isn’t she being treated yet?” he demanded.
“We have to wait to see what her tests say before we know which IV to give her,” the doctor replied. “It’ll just be a bit longer.”
“I’m all right, Will,” Elizabeth assured him. “I’m just a bit dehydrated.” Will gave her a skeptical look and turned back to the doctor.
“That’s part of it,” Levy agreed. “Shall we go through everything?”
Elizabeth just gave a half wave of her hand indicating her acceptance and let the doctor run though his theory. He added that once she was feeling better, he’d like to conduct an MRI just to be on the safe side, though he didn’t expect the test to reveal anything. “These symptoms can have a range of causes. The blood test will rule many of them out, but because of the previous injury, it’s best to check that there’s been no further damage.”
“I don’t need an MRI,” Elizabeth said evenly. “It’s just stress, like you said before. It’s been months since the concussion.”
“She’ll have it,” Will broke in. He turned to Elizabeth and said confidently, “I’ll talk you into it.”
Elizabeth scowled at him.
“On that note,” Levy said, a small smile playing on his lips, “I’ll see to my other patients. The turkey burn brigade ought to be turning up shortly.” He put a hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I’ll see you in a few hours, and we’ll go from there.”
As the door closed behind the doctor, Elizabeth sighed. “You really are a pain in the . . . ”
“Elizabeth Bennet,” Will said teasingly, “don’t break your promise to Aunt Maddy. It’s Thanksgiving, you know.”
“Oh no, Will,” Elizabeth said in sudden dismay, struggling to sit up. “You’re supposed to be at your uncle’s house soon.”
Will grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back down on the bed. “You’re doing me a favor, believe me,” he told her, his eyes boring into hers. “Uncle Terry gets these things catered. Everybody stands around making political deals and drinking too many mimosas. I’m not missing a thing.” Like I’d go to a party when you’re sick.
“Mimosas?” Elizabeth asked, bewildered.
Will made a face. “Exactly. He doesn’t get Thanksgiving.” He motioned at the bottle of water, and she drank the rest of it.
“And here I was, hoping to see Richard carve a turkey,” she said lightly.
“I don’t think his father trusts him with a knife,” Will replied. The joke only earned him an odd look from Elizabeth.
She sank back into her pillow and changed the subject. “Your sister will be angry.”
“Richard will take her. He’s the one they all want to see,” Will insisted. “G won’t be angry.”
“No, Will,” Elizabeth replied, closing her eyes, “she’s already angry. I don’t want to make it worse.”
Will was confused. “She’s been acting strangely about you, too. What do you mean, she’s already angry? You haven’t even met her yet.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes as a nurse entered and set up the IV, inserting a small needle into the back of her hand. When it was done, she looked up at the fluid dripping slowly through a long clear tube. Will gave her an uncertain half smile, angry with both her and himself. Elizabe
th needed to take better care of herself, and he should have driven over last night, no matter how late it was. I knew something wasn’t right.
He perched on the edge of the bed, one large, warm hand wrapped around Elizabeth’s ankle. They remained that way for some time, until half the IV was gone and Elizabeth seemed to feel somewhat better.
“That can’t be comfortable, Will,” she said, her words raspy. He grabbed a cup of water and held it out, but she waved him off. She carefully moved her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it between her lower back and the wall, adjusting until she held up her hand. “That’s good, thanks,” she said. She patted the spot next to her. “Sit here with me.”
Will held out the cup again, and this time she took it. He levered himself up on the bed next to her as she sipped the water. She told him about getting a call from Kit, meeting Kaylie Liu, rushing to the police station, waiting with the social worker, and then, the phone call she’d had with his sister.
“I’m so sorry about Georgiana, Elizabeth,” he said solemnly when she was finished. “I don’t know why she’s acting this way.”
Elizabeth give him a sympathetic look. At least, he hoped it was sympathy.
“Will,” she said, “we talked about this. It’s just been you two for so long that it’s hard for her to see things changing.”
He released a deep sigh but didn’t say anything. Elizabeth fidgeted a bit before quietly saying, “I know a little about how she feels.”
Surprised, he asked, “You do?”
Elizabeth took his hand and laced her fingers with his. “I’ve meant to have this conversation with you since the night you told me about Caroline Bingley, but there was never a good time.” She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “Not that now is ideal, but I’m feeling better, we have some time alone, and I sure won’t be ruining our fun.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I said I trusted you, and I do. But you can’t trust me unless you know me, so I want to tell you about my family.”
Adapt Page 8
