by Wells, Linda
“Oh no, I want this bastard to swing.” Lord Matlock growled. “He was trying to kidnap the baby?”
Clarke shrugged. “I am not sure. They were alone in the garden, Mrs. Darcy screamed, Mr. Darcy came to her aid, and by the time the staff arrived it was over.”
“What does Darcy say?”
“He is nonsensical, asking the same question over and over. It is common enough with a blow to the head. He is ill, very ill. The good news is that I saw no sign of blood in his ears, and his face is not bruised. I hope with time he will be well again.”
“Not if his wife dies.” Lord Matlock could hear the activity in the mistress’ chambers and then looked to Darcy’s door. “Can I see him?”
“He finally stopped vomiting, but we will not give him laudanum for the pain until we are sure. He is, we think, sleeping.”
“Not alone?”
“No, his man is by his side.”
Lord Matlock rubbed his face and sighed. “I will stay right here, then.”
“I will go look in on Doctor Brandon.” He paused. “He has a great deal of experience with gunshot wounds.”
“Yes, he treated my son.” Lord Matlock’s eyes filled with tears and he turned to the window. Standing there he stared out over the trees of Hyde Park at the beautiful, cloudless day. He drew out a handkerchief and wiped his face then trying to distract his mind, saw two books sitting on the writing desk. He picked one up and it fell open to the page marked by a beautifully tied ribbon. Without thinking, he moved it aside and began to read.
25 June 1810
Today, today three years ago, I fell in love. My dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth appeared before me, and laughed. Oh how I needed that sound at that moment. Since I have known of you, my love, that laugh has rescued me from despair, and highlighted the happiest moments of my life. I have spent many hours contemplating my years before knowing you. Of course there were times of happiness and laughter with my family and friends, but joy was not a word that I could possibly comprehend until your musical voice wended its way through the atmosphere to my ear. You live inside of my heart. You keep me safe and warm. I treasured and nursed every memory I had of you before we met at last in truth. You make me whole, dearest. Bless you for loving me. Bless you for giving me our dear Rosa. I love you darling Elizabeth.
Lord Matlock wiped the tears that slipped down his face, and closed the book, not wishing to tread any further on the private thoughts of his wounded nephew, who may never be whole again. Quickly he picked up the other book, hoping to change his thoughts, and instead opened it to find a horribly misshapen knot of colourful ribbon, and an entry written in Elizabeth’s hand.
25 June 1810
Oh what a child I was three years ago today! What a silly little girl! How different I am now, and how much better I am for loving you, my dear husband! When I look back at that day, I remember so clearly wondering just who was this handsome gentleman, staring at me so intently! Why how dare he do such a thing! I was of a mind to stamp up to you and correct your impertinence, sir! Yes, SIR. You see at the time that is who you were, a man, an unknown man who had shot the arrow of his admiration straight into my soul. Oh you wicked man, stealing a young girl’s heart even before she knew that she had one to give! If we had never met again, I would have remained lost to you, my love. If I had been left to find my path some other way, it would have been you holding my hand in my mind. So many laugh at our love, dear, I know. But I think that is envy and ignorance. Envy for what they will never know, and ignorance for what they could not possibly understand. How could I have lived a complete life without you? I do not know, and my love, I am forever grateful that I will never have to discover such a horribly bleak place. You are the blood and the fire that course through my veins. You are my heart. You have given me love, you have given me a home I never could have imagined, one where I am safe and wanted. You have given me our baby, your little cherub who has you so tightly wound around her finger it makes me laugh each time I see you hold her. I love you my dear husband, my dearest friend, bless you for loving a silly little girl.
Reverently, he closed the book and set it down carefully next to Darcy’s. “Which am I; I wonder, one of the envious or the ignorant?” Walking to the door that led into Darcy’s chamber, he steeled himself, and pushed it open. There on the bed lay his nephew, pale and drawn, his eyes closed and his lip caught in his teeth as he grimaced with pain. Adams stood from the chair by his side and Lord Matlock moved to take over. “How is he?”
“Sleeping, sir.” Adams looked at him worriedly. “He has nothing left in his stomach, it seems. We will give him the laudanum when he is conscious again.”
“The questions …”
“The same, over and over. The doctor is sure that should stop after he sleeps.”
“Will he remember what happened?” Lord Matlock mused.
“I think it is best if he does not, sir.” Adams met his eye. “It was a horrific scene. Mrs. Darcy crumpled on the earth, bleeding …” Adams wiped his eyes. “Mr. Darcy was still conscious then, he …sir, his heart was breaking.”
“I can well imagine.”
Hearing a knock at the door they looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner entering cautiously. “Matlock.” They looked at Darcy. “How is he?”
“Very ill.” He sighed. “But hanging on for now. The physician is hopeful.”
“Lizzy?”
“I do not know, yet.” He glanced at Mrs. Gardiner. “The surgeon and physician are with her.”
“I will go to her.” Mrs. Gardiner began to leave and her husband caught her arm. She just gave him a look and he dropped it. She turned and left the room. “A little blood is meaningless to a woman, I have noticed.” Mr. Gardiner tried to smile.
“Yes, the notion that they are the weaker sex is laughable.” Lord Matlock murmured and squeezing Darcy’s shoulder, indicated that they go to the sitting room. Taking a chair, he watched Mr. Gardiner stare out at the park. “Would you care to read something?”
Turning to face him, Mr. Gardiner was handed the journals. When he finished, he set them down and wiped his eyes. “I always suspected they were quite beyond anything I could comprehend.”
“So you are one of the ignorant or envious?” Lord Matlock asked with a slight smile.
“Perhaps I am a different category, of men who are striving to meet their standard.” He smiled a little then looked down at his hands. “She has lost a great deal of blood, I take it.”
“Yes. Shot in the shoulder, I do not know if it passed through, but she is so tiny, it had to hit bone.” Jumping up, he began to pace. “Why do they not tell us anything?” He demanded.
“Marianne will come.” Mr. Gardiner said softly.
The sound of boots rapidly crossing the floorboards and a raised voice startled them. The sitting room door burst open and Fitzwilliam appeared; a murderous look in his eye. “Bastard! Where is he? I should have killed him when my sword was at his throat!”
Lord Matlock glared at him. “Calm yourself! He is gone, the magistrate has him.”
“The bloody magistrate had him before and he got away! Darcy was right to suspect he was not dead. I will never laugh at his worrying again.” Fitzwilliam stormed around the room, and spun. “Well?”
“Darcy sleeps with a blow to the head, Elizabeth was shot in the shoulder. We do not know.”
“Shot?” His face drained of colour. “She bled?”
“Yes, as did he.” Fitzwilliam moved towards the door to the mistress’ chambers. “Richard! Brandon is with her.”
He stopped and nodded, then without a word disappeared into Darcy’s chambers. “Word got around.” Mr. Gardiner observed.
“The staff did admirably on their own.” Lord Matlock agreed. The two men lapsed into silence until another voice was heard and the door opened to reveal Lady Matlock.
“Well?”
“We are waiting for word on Elizabeth.” Lord Matlock said softly. “Darcy sleeps.”
&nbs
p; She nodded and looked at Mr. Gardiner. “Marianne is with her.” Immediately she entered the bedchamber. “I do feel rather useless compared to the women.” He said quietly.
“They give birth, we only inflict pain.” Lord Matlock returned to the window and clasped his hands behind his back. Fitzwilliam reappeared and stared at Elizabeth’s door, then took a seat. “He will have a devil of a headache for a few weeks. I felt that knot he has grown.”
“You hit your head once, I recall.”
“Yes.” He laughed without humour. “Wickham pushed me down the stairs at Pemberley, said it was an accident. If I had my faculties I would have beat the bastard to death then.” He growled then grimaced. “Any word?”
“Your mother is with her now.”
“What of the girls?”
“I did not ask, but as they are not here, I imagine that she left them at home.”
“Good.” Fitzwilliam noticed the open books and stood up to go stare at them, read the passages and turned away. “They met today.”
“Yes, it seems so.”
“This was the day he returned from his tour, the day he learned his father was to die.”
Lord Matlock startled. “I did not realize that.”
“I pray that it is not the day he learns that Elizabeth …” Fitzwilliam left the thought and went to stare out of the window.
“WELL, THAT SHOULD take care of it. Now we wait.” Dr. Brandon wiped his hands and looked down at Elizabeth’s pale face. “At least we found the ball.”
“So it did not pass through?” Clarke looked at her with interest.
“Well, yes and no. The way she was shielding the child, it seems to have passed through the back of her arm before it lodged near the socket of her shoulder. Exceptional luck that, no bone was harmed, and the babe was not struck. My only guess is that the bullet passed through something first that slowed its delivery enough to be …well, less than it could have been. Look around out in the garden, there should be a clean shot through something.”
“Perhaps it passed through Darcy?” Lady Matlock asked as she stood by Elizabeth and stroked her damp hair.
“No, I examined him, the only blood he lost was from his scalp, and that was profuse enough. Wickham perhaps. He was beaten to such a bloody pulp it is difficult to say.”
“I am not concerned with the hows and whys, I only care for my niece.” Mrs. Gardiner said angrily. “You have her drugged with laudanum?”
“Yes, madam.” Dr. Barton nodded to Millie. “The girl knows the dose to give her. She will have pain and of course will feel the effects of the drug; no doubt she will be confused upon waking. And … be prepared for fever.” He looked down at his hands. “It is not over yet.”
They heard Rosalie cry and Lady Matlock exchanged glances with Mrs. Gardiner. “It is good that they have Mrs. Robbins.”
“I hope that Rosalie accepts her, for a long time.” Stroking Elizabeth’s hair she leaned to kiss her clammy skin. “Be well, my child.”
DARCY’S HAND WENT UP to his face and travelled on to hold his throbbing head. “What happened?” He murmured, and rubbing his other hand over his aching stomach, slowly blinked open his eyes. The room was dark, save for a few candles. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the low light and he took in the view. “Elizabeth?” He said softly and reaching for her, felt nothing. Creasing his brow, he wondered where she was, then heard the sound of Rosalie’s cry. “She must be tending to her.” He sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for his baby to settle and his wife to return to bed and tell him why he ached so much. But the cries did not cease. Blinking his eyes open again, he listened. “Maybe she needs my help.” He started to sit up and the dull throbbing became blinding pain, and instantly his hand went to his head, finding the bandage. “What?” He tore it off and saw the dried blood, then ran his hand through his matted hair, finding the large, tender lump. “What happened to me?”
Looking around the room he noticed Adams, snoring quietly in a chair. “Adams?” Darcy said with confusion. “What is … Where is Elizabeth?” Ignoring the intense pain and the suddenly spinning room, he struggled to his feet and began walking haltingly towards the sound of his wailing daughter. He passed through the sitting room and seeing the light around the frame, pushed open the door to the mistress’s chambers. It was a mirror of his room, dark, lit softly by candles, Millie slept in a chair, and there … his heart stopped. Tucked neatly on the bed lay Elizabeth, her white face was peaceful, her hands were folded over her stomach, and in her fingers he saw the locket. Suddenly the scent of a doctor’s work filled his nostrils and the memory of his mother, father, cousin, lying in the repose of death overwhelmed his weakened mind. “NO!” He stumbled in and fell upon her body, wrapped her in his arms and dragged her up into his embrace. “Darling no, no, please! Please Elizabeth, do not leave me!” He kissed all over her face, willing her to breathe again.
Millie woke with a start and stared helplessly at the mourning man. Adams had heard his cry and came running in, and placed his hand on his master’s shoulder. “Sir!” He shook him, but Darcy heard nothing through his grief. “Sir, please!”
Darcy kissed Elizabeth’s face and found her mouth, it was only then that he felt warmth in her skin. His frenzied movement stopped and he cradled her in his arms. “Dearest?” He whispered, and stroked back the hair from her eyes. “Dearest Elizabeth?” His fingers traced her cheeks and down to her throat, and rested over her steadily beating pulse. “Thank you, Lord.” His lips caressed the gently throbbing skin, and he remained there, letting the assurance of her life flutter against his mouth. He whispered in her ear. “I love you darling, please wake, please.”
“Sir, she has been given laudanum to sleep.” Darcy did not move, he only caressed his wife lovingly and continued to whisper in her ear. “Sir, she needs to rest, as do you …” Adams said fruitlessly. Glancing at Millie, he tilted his head, and they exited the room to give their master some privacy.
“Lizzy love.” Darcy kissed her. “Wake darling, just for a moment.” Hearing a soft sigh he kissed her lips, then her eyes. “Darling?”
“Will?” She breathed.
“Oh, love!” He climbed further into the bed and lay beside her, wrapping his body around hers. “Here I am.”
“I …” At last her heavy eyelids slowly opened to find his nose touching hers, and tears streaming down his face. She reached up to stroke him. “You are beautiful.” She smiled a little.
“No love, that is you.” He gently kissed her hand. “What has happened?”
“I do not know, exactly.” Seeing his confusion she continued to caress his brow, and tried to explain what she knew. “You had almost strangled Wickham.”
“Wickham!” He cried, and stared at her as comprehension slowly began to appear in his eyes. He listened to her as intently as he could, fighting to understand while his head throbbed with increasing pain as his heart began to pound again.
She nodded and continued as his look urged her on. “Yes, he was purple and gasping for air … I think that … He was … Going to shoot you …” Tears were slipping down her cheeks, and when he gathered her closer, his hand touched the bandage and she cried out.
“I am so sorry, love!” He jumped and examined her. “A gun? I … I remember … you screamed … Oh dearest what happened to you?”
Elizabeth focussed on his searching blue eyes, and willed herself to waken from the laudanum haze. “The gun fired and I felt burning in my arm; that is all I remember.” She kissed him and caressed his face. “Rosalie?”
“I heard her crying, I think that it is the sweetest sound in the world.” Darcy kissed her. “I … I do not know what happened to me. My head aches, I am sore and dizzy, and there is a knot on top.” Elizabeth’s fingers wandered through his hair and found the spot, making him jump.
“Oh Will! What has he done to you?” She hugged him as hard as she could and began to sob.
“You were shot.” He gulped back his emotion and kissed her forehea
d.
“But we are both alive.” She said fiercely. “You fought him so bravely, Fitzwilliam. I am so proud of you.”
“I … I remember seeing a man holding Rosa and you were beating him. My brave love!” He kissed her. “I …” He closed his eyes and struggled to remember more. “I … tackled him?”
Elizabeth’s face reflected her own struggle to remember. “Yes … yes, and that is when I took our daughter back. And when you fought him.” She smiled a little. “My knight.”
“Your knight has no memory …ohhhhhhh, oh Lizzy, I … I remember seeing you … Oh, on the ground …your gown … oh darling!” He held her tightly to him. “Oh my love!”
“Shhhhh, shhhh. I am well, as you see.” She said weakly and he looked at her carefully.
“You are so pale.” Darcy kissed her. “You bled, I remember it now.” Looking her over carefully, he examined the bandages around her shoulder and arm, and decided that now was not the time to discuss her wounds. Instead he wiped her tears and kissed her cheeks. “You must be so tired, love, and here I am waking you.”
“I am grateful that you did. Nobody told me how you were when I was awake before. Aunt Gardiner gave me my locket to hold … Where is it?” She asked as fear crept into her voice. Feeling around the covers, Darcy found it and placed it around her neck. “There.” He kissed her. “I am with you.” Elizabeth rested heavily upon him and he gathered her tightly in his arms. “Rest dear, I will not leave your side. Sleep.”
“I need to care for you. I am well.”
Darcy looked down at her in disbelief and suddenly the forgotten rage reappeared. “You were shot, Elizabeth! In our home! ON OUR DAY!!” He bellowed. “Where is that bastard! I will kill him!” Adams and Millie appeared and Darcy sat up with a groan, and clutched Elizabeth protectively to his chest. “What happened? Where is Wickham? Did I kill him? Did anyone finish it for me?” He demanded.
