A Matter of Honor

by Abigail Reynolds

  He managed to get one foot on the straw-strewn floor, but pain in his ribs stabbed at him. He touched his side and winced. Another injury, dammit.

  He could do this. His other ankle throbbed as he pushed himself to stand. There. His stomach might betray him any second, but he was upright.

  Or he was until he set down his other foot. A hundred vicious knives slammed into his leg and cut it to shreds. A cry of agony escaped him as he fell back to his knees. He let his head rest on the chair seat as he rocked back and forth in an instinctive effort to fight back a scream.

  A man took hold of his shoulders. “Lie down.” Darcy had not heard anyone come in.

  “I must get up.” He could no longer remember why it was so important, but he knew it was.

  “No. Now lean back,” said a cool, professional voice.

  “I must –”

  “Do not argue with him.” It was Elizabeth’s voice, high and urgent.

  “But –”

  “I pray you, just do as he says!” She sounded upset. This must be worse than he thought.

  “Very well,” Darcy said ungraciously and allowed himself to be lowered back onto the pallet. He refused to admit it was a relief.

  “You have sustained a nasty blow to your head. The more you rest over the next few days, the sooner the headache will leave you. Exercise is the worst thing for it. Now, what made you cry out?”

  Embarrassed, Darcy pointed to his calf. “My leg. I tried to put weight on it.”

  The man knelt down beside his leg and pressed against the bone just below the knee. “I am going to check your leg to find the injury. If you wish to be helpful, you will tell me when it hurts. If you wish to make it extremely difficult for me to help you, you will be stoic and manly and refuse to admit it hurts. Do you understand?” His tone was coolly ironic.

  Darcy started to nod and immediately regretted the movement. “Yes.”

  The man began to move his hands down Darcy’s leg, pressing a finger against the bone frequently. “What happened to you?”

  Elizabeth said he had been attacked on the road. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is stopping at an inn – that!”

  “Hurts, does it?” He pressed another spot that sent a shock of agony through Darcy’s leg. “How about this? And this?”

  “Yes,” he growled through gritted teeth.

  The man stood and dusted off his hands. “Both bones are broken. Your attackers made sure you could not come after them. I can set it for you. It will hurt more than you can imagine. If you put any weight on that foot, you will end up with a crooked leg. By that I mean no weight at all. Not one quick hobble, not leaning on it, nothing at all.” His voice dripped with irony.

  “I am perfectly able to follow instructions,” Darcy said coldly.

  The man’s lip curled. “And you are a friend of Miss Merton? Astonishing. I have never met anyone over the age of ten who is less able to follow instructions.” He turned on his heel and left.

  “Insolent bastard,” Darcy muttered. Then he noticed Elizabeth was still standing by the door, her lips in a tight line. “I am sorry. I will make him apologize.”

  “No!” She sat beside him. “You must not. I beg of you, do not argue with him.” She sounded frightened.

  “His manners could use improvement,” grumbled Darcy. “I cannot see how he keeps any patients.”

  “He is not a doctor,” said Elizabeth.

  “Not a doctor? Who is he?”

  Elizabeth bent her head and said in a low voice, “He is a highwayman.”

  Darcy stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. “I cannot explain it. There are many secrets here, and this is one of them. No one will tell me anything. Everyone in the Highlands despises and distrusts the English.”

  “With good reason.”

  “You know more than I, then. I am tolerated because of my aunt, but not trusted. I do not understand much of what is happening here, but I know this: that man is dangerous. He saved your life, but he could as easily slit your throat.”

  If only his head did not ache! “Why did he save me, then?”

  Elizabeth turned her face away. “He was planning to hold you for ransom,” she said in a low voice. “I unintentionally spoiled that plan, and he is displeased with me, to say the least.”

  He caught at her hand. “You should not be here.”

  “You need not worry. He will not hurt me. You are safer if I am here with you. Once you are stronger, we can take you away from here.”

  “Once again, I have brought trouble upon you.”

  A slight, teasing smile lit her face. “Unless you intentionally set out to be attacked and robbed, I am afraid I cannot blame you for this. Perhaps when you are better, you will be able to help me solve some of the mysteries here.”

  The highwayman returned, carrying a long stick and accompanied by two elderly men. “Miss Merton, I will be setting his leg. We will all be happier if you are not present.”

  Elizabeth’s face went still. “Very well. Mr. Darcy, I will be outside, and you may call me if you need anything.” She left the room.

  The three men arranged themselves around his leg. “You will hold it here and pull up towards his head,” the highwayman told one of the old men, pointing at Darcy’s thigh. “You will be at the ankle, pulling down. Once it is straight, I will put on a temporary splint until the blacksmith can make a better one.”

  What did a blacksmith have to do with making a splint? But heedful of Elizabeth’s warning, Darcy said nothing.

  FINALLY MR. JACK EMERGED through the curtained doorway. “It is done,” he told Elizabeth coolly. “He fainted, fortunately.”

  “I thank you,” Elizabeth said quietly, Darcy’s earlier agonized cry still ringing in her ears.

  Mr. Jack shrugged. “Are you going to marry him?”

  Elizabeth winced. “No.” She had missed her chance at that and would regret it forever.

  “Is there another man? Are you betrothed?”

  His questions made her uneasy. “What is the sudden interest in my private life?”

  His expression was stern. “You offered to pay me a ransom with money you do not have.”

  She flushed. “I have every reason to think my aunt would give it to me.”

  “Perhaps.” He studied her. “I want something that is in your power to give.”

  Elizabeth’s insides froze. Surely he could not mean what she was thinking. He had made it clear he detested her. “I will not agree to anything immoral.” Her voice shook.

  His lips twisted. “Nothing like that. There is a man I want you to marry.”

  Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Is that all? Merely that I tie myself for life to a complete stranger I know nothing about, give up my freedom, share his bed, bear his children, and suffer whatever treatment he inflicts on me? It is such a little thing you ask for!”

  “Is your friend’s life a little thing? I saved his life. Now I want you to save the lives of people I care about.”

  “You are out of your mind!” she cried. “You cannot force me to do it.”

  He smiled coldly. “In fact, I could force you to marry him, but I do not intend to, because he deserves better. I am going to leave it to your honor.”

  She whirled away from him, but after two steps, she turned back. “Why?” she demanded.

  “Because you are an heiress, of course.”

  “One who does not expect to inherit for a decade at the earliest!”

  He shrugged. “It does not matter. He can borrow against the expectation.”

  “You are mad!”

  “Do you not wish to know anything about him?” he asked mockingly.

  “You wish to tell me, and I must perforce listen, as long as my friend is at your mercy,” she said angrily. She would not marry on this man’s command, but if listening to him would do any good, she would go that far.

  “He is wellborn and educated. Young – four-and-
twenty, I believe. Women do not seem to find him unappealing. He is a decent man who will treat you with respect.”

  “Then he should have no difficulty finding himself a bride.”

  “There are women who would marry him despite the debts he will inherit, but they can bring him nothing, and he will not drag them down with him.”

  This was madness, but she felt obligated to play on. “Who is this penniless paragon of yours?”

  The highwaymen studied her and turned towards the workers. “Duncan!” he called.

  A young man with ginger hair trotted over. “Need help with that one?” He pointed to a large stone block sitting in a wheelbarrow.

  “Just an introduction. Miss Merton, may I present Mr. Duncan MacLaren, son of the MacLaren? Duncan, Miss Merton is the niece of Charlie’s widow and stands to inherit his fortune.”

  Red patches appeared on the young man’s cheeks. He turned to the highwayman. “Oh, God. Tell me you did not,” he said in deep embarrassment.

  “I did,” said Mr. Jack coolly. “Now do your part.” He whispered something in the younger man’s ear and strode away.

  “My deepest apologies,” said the ginger-haired man. “I beg you to believe I had no part in this.”

  She felt a wave of sympathy for him. “What, do you object to being sold to the nearest heiress like a horse at the auction block? Perhaps I should observe your gaits and examine your teeth.”

  He laughed, displaying very nice teeth. “Not at all. I am content to be sold, as long as the heiress in question wants to buy me. I draw the line at a bride who is forced to the altar.”

  “I am relieved to hear it, though Mr. Jack has not yet found a threat comprehensive enough to convince me to tie myself to a stranger, however good his teeth and gaits might be.”

  He grinned. “In that case, may I hope we can start anew as neighbors, forgetting Jack’s machinations?” He held out his hand, glanced down at the scuffed, dirty laborer’s glove he wore, and withdrew it, smiling apologetically. “Perhaps next time we meet, when I have not been grubbing about in the dirt.”

  “I would be happy to know you as a neighbor. I had started to wonder if I had any.” Not that she had been hoping for the chimney-building sort of neighbor, but it was something.

  “You would have met me soon enough. I have been away, but my father has already instructed me to call on you to extend a welcome on his behalf, as his health does not permit him to leave the castle.”

  She dropped a curtsey. “I am glad to know there is one person in the Highlands who does not consider me a most unwelcome presence, or at least can manage to hide it.” She tried to keep her tone light, but some of her bitterness escaped.

  His brow furrowed. “You have not been made welcome at Kinloch?”

  She looked away. “No doubt they are doing their best, given that I am an Englishwoman and therefore untrustworthy, greedy, cruel, inhumane, and I probably prefer to dine on Highlander babies. Apart from that, they have been everything that is hospitable, apart from Mr. Jack, who wishes he had found the courage to kill me like an unwanted puppy.”

  His dismayed expression was almost comical. “This cannot stand! Come, let us find a place to sit, I would hear more of this.”

  Elizabeth flushed. “That is kind of you, but unnecessary. My reception at Kinloch is none of your affair.”

  “If the niece of Charlie MacLaren has not been welcomed with open arms, it is most definitely my business. Or rather, my father’s business, but you may consider me as his representative.”

  She raised her chin and took a step back from him. “I apologize if I have given the impression I am unable to manage my aunt’s staff.” She emphasized the last three words.

  He seemed perplexed, but then relaxed. “We are speaking of two different things. How they perform in their duties is a matter for your aunt. How their behavior reflects on Clan MacLaren is a question for my father.”

  “The clan?” asked Elizabeth dubiously. “Like the ones in Walter Scott’s poems? I did not know they still existed.”

  A shadow fell across his pleasant features. “Some clans have fallen on hard times. Others, like ours, seek to find our way in a changed world.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I know little about Scotland. I came here for the first time last summer, and since then I have been in Edinburgh, spending my time among the theatricals there. They are almost a country of their own. I have not met many ordinary Scots.”

  “That is just as well. In Edinburgh, and in all of England, you will hear people say that all Highlanders are dangerous savages. They would tell you we are the ones eating babies for breakfast.”

  Elizabeth widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Oh, that could not be! If your Highlanders believe the English eat babies, then they would never do so on sheer principle. You would find your own barbaric ritual.”

  He laughed. “Very true! But I do wish you would tell me what has happened at Kinloch House to make you feel unwelcome. It is important to me.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “They have done everything possible to make me physically comfortable. They cannot disguise that they are frightened of me. Conversations end as soon as I appear, and they avoid answering my questions. It could not be clearer that I am considered untrustworthy even about such basic matters as the number of household staff. If you were one of them, you would now be changing the subject, trying to distract me by telling me in great detail some strange story about your grandmother who had two maids who both fell love with the same man, but he tragically drowned while fishing in Loch Katrine before he could choose between them, or some such ridiculousness. It goes on and on.”

  “I will tell your housekeeper that your questions should be answered.” He hesitated. “They did not know you would be inheriting Kinloch until the letter came announcing your arrival. It was a shock to them, and there was no time to discuss how to acquaint you with some of Kinloch’s...idiosyncrasies.”

  “A shock because I am English or because I am female?” Elizabeth had an edge to her voice.

  “Neither. Your uncle purchased Kinloch to help the clan. Many people assumed he would leave it to a member of the clan, although he never said such a thing. When your aunt inherited it, we thought it was just a delay for her lifetime, since she had said she had no family. In the meantime, it continued to benefit the clan. I hope you will understand why it was an unpleasant shock to discover it would not go to a clansman but instead be in the hands of an unknown English girl with no knowledge of or affection for our Highlands.”

  It made more sense that way, but she still disliked it. “And so Mr. Jack decided to solve the problem by making me marry you. Well, I suppose it is a clever, if improbable, solution.”

  He laughed. “My dear Miss Merton, Jack was perhaps the last person in the glen to arrive at that idea. I daresay I have had three dozen people suggest it to me. My father gave me my marching orders within ten minutes of learning of your existence. Jack is a slow-top.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks grew hot again. “I am sorry to disappoint so many people, but I have no intention of marrying, and I certainly have no desire to spend my life here.”

  With a wry look, he said, “I suppose it would not make a difference if I said we could live in Edinburgh.”

  Was he serious? “A kind offer, but no. A year ago, before I met my aunt, I had only a token dowry. It has been a shock to discover how many men now desire to marry me even before they meet me. I think I preferred it when I was not an heiress.”

  “I would hardly suppose I am the first, although no doubt most men have the sense to pretend to be bowled over by your beauty rather than your inheritance. Sadly, I have never gained the skill for that sort of deception.”

  “I prefer your honesty.” She studied him. “I am puzzled by one thing. Mr. Jack said that I should marry you to save lives.”

  The young man glared in the highwayman’s direction. “That is an overdramatic way to put it.” He looked away into the mountains for a minute.
“I suppose you will have to learn sooner or later. We are at risk of losing our lands. Unless something changes, the clan will have to leave Scotland and start over in America. It will be painful to leave our ancestral lands, and perhaps some may not survive the journey, but I do not believe anyone will actually die of heartbreak. In any case, it most certainly is not your problem.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.” She should not take out her anger at Mr. Jack on this poor young man who was simply trying to be hospitable. “I am glad your reasons for being willing to be auctioned off to an heiress are better than the fortune hunters who merely want to pay off their gambling debts. It has given me a distaste for the entire matter of my inheritance.”

  He studied his boot tips. “I hope it serves you better in the future, and I pray you to disregard Jack’s demands.”

  DARCY REACHED DOWN to touch the rough iron bar on the side of his calf. The so-called brace looked more like a medieval torture device, with leather straps above and below the knee, and iron bars running down from them to attach to the rigid boot on his foot. At least the pain of having it put in place was starting to fade. “This does not look like the usual treatment for a broken leg.”

  The highwayman did not bother to look his way. “The standard treatment for a double break is amputation. This gives you a chance of walking again. I can cut it off if you prefer,” he said coldly.

  An icy shudder ran down Darcy’s spine. One of his friends at Eton had lost his leg after a bad break. “No. I will try this.”

  Mr. Jack shrugged as if it made no difference to him, though he had clearly gone to some trouble to get the blacksmith to make the brace.

  Darcy tried again. “I understand you were the one who found me when I was hurt.”

  The highwayman adjusted the buckle on the strap above his knee. “Aye.”

  “Was anyone else there? Anyone injured?”