“Just you.”
It would help if the man would answer in more than two words! “My valet was traveling with me, as was a guide.” At least that was what his hazy memory told him. “Do you think the bandits took them?”
“No.”
Darcy gritted his teeth. “No?”
The highwayman sat back. “Bandits do not take poor men and leave the rich one behind. Besides, there were no bandits.”
“What do you mean, no bandits? Someone attacked and robbed me.”
Mr. Jack picked up a whetstone and began to sharpen his knife. “There was new frost on the road, so I could see tracks of a pair of horses and a carriage that had come from the direction of Aberfoyle. They had stopped and went back the way they came. The footprints by your body came from the carriage. Your guide and your valet no doubt turned a nice profit with everything you were carrying.”
Cold rage filled Darcy. Smithers, damn him. No wonder he had been so unwontedly cheerful about going off into an unpopulated area with Darcy. How long had he been planning to rob him? Or was it just a last-minute plan because he knew Darcy intended to dismiss him? That blackguard, to attack him and leave him to die! He would pay for this.
The highwayman lifted his head. “Who is there?”
Darcy had not heard anyone coming.
“It is I, Elizabeth Merton.” Her voice came from outside the blanket door.
Her new name still sounded wrong to his ears. He said, “Do come in, Miss Elizabeth.” He should call her Miss Merton since she had no elder sister here, but sooner or later he would slip and call her Miss Bennet instead, and she had made it clear she wanted secrecy. Calling her Miss Elizabeth was safer.
As soon as she had stepped inside, the highwayman pushed past her and disappeared into the outer world Darcy had never seen.
She glanced after him and shrugged. “Good morning. I hope your night was tolerable.”
“Perfectly so.” As if he were accustomed to sleeping on a bed of heather in a smoky ruin. “Thank you for coming to see me.”
She peered at him as she untied her tartan scarf. “You sound angry. Is something the matter?”
There was no point in pretending. “I just learned I was not attacked by bandits, but by my own valet and the guide he had hired.”
“What? That is appalling! You must be furious!”
“Appalling, yes, but there is little I can do about it now, apart from admiring the irony of being attacked by my valet and rescued by a highwayman.”
She pulled up the stool and sat beside him. “I am glad at least your sense of humor seems to have survived. You sound much better than you did yesterday.”
“I am starting to feel more like myself, and very embarrassed to be causing so much trouble.”
“That is silly. You certainly did not ask to be injured.” She smiled at him warmly.
If he had not been injured, would she be sitting beside him and talking to him? “At least I managed to find you.”
“Or I found you.” Elizabeth seemed to develop a sudden interest in her gloves. “I have wondered how you learned I was here.”
Darcy winced. “I discovered your aunt had a country estate and thought it was worth checking.”
“You are a terrible liar,” said Elizabeth affectionately. “My aunt told you, did she not?”
Embarrassed, Darcy said, “Not exactly. She refused to tell me where you were, and a minute later she told me about her country estate. She never said you were there.”
Elizabeth sighed. “How very like her. No doubt that technique was used in a play. Sometimes life with her feels like a succession of dramatic scenes.”
“I thought you were fond of her.” Was living with Mrs. MacLean unpleasant for her?
“I am. I like her very much, but she is so different from anyone I knew before. All of them are.”
“All of them?”
“The theatricals. You and I learned that our emotions must be kept under strict regulation and only spoken of in a calm, tangential manner. The theatricals live their emotions on a large scale. If one of them is happy or sad or angry, the whole room will be in no doubt of it. Affection is freely given and taken. When Jasper is pleased, he will often hug me and whirl me around in the air, and it means nothing except casual affection and exuberance. But I can tell he comes from a nontheatrical family, because when you are there, he suddenly reverts to propriety.”
Darcy hated the idea of Jasper being so free with her. Was this what he had meant when he said it was hard to have Darcy backstage? Probably better not to discuss that. “I hope it has not been too dull for you here without the theatricals.”
Elizabeth’s teasing smile lit her face. “A little quiet is not a bad thing. But if you should feel in the mood for theatre, I can always recite one of their plays. Several of them are melodramas hardly worth repeating, and you have just seen Henry V, but I can perform Romeo and Juliet for you all by myself.”
“You have memorized the entire thing?” Darcy exclaimed
“Well, only the scenes with either Benvolio, Mercutio, County Paris, Tybalt, Romeo, or Lady Capulet, but that covers most of the play. If one reads them aloud often enough, they begin to stick. I thank God that Jasper was not understudying Friar Lawrence! That long monologue would have killed us both. I do wish Mr. Siddons had chosen plays I like better, though. Neither of those is a favorite of mine.”
“Which ones do you like better?”
“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It, or A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Jasper would make a marvelous Orlando, but he is too young for Benedick.” She paused and laughed. “Forgive me. I forget that I am not among theatricals who are obsessed with choosing plays by the roles.”
“You and Jasper seem to be very good friends.” Dammit. He sounded jealous, probably because he was.
“I suppose so. He arrived a few weeks after me, and we were the only newcomers, both to Edinburgh and the theatre. After he came to live with us, I started helping him with his lines...” Some of the animation left her face.
“What is it?”
She smiled suddenly. It was as if the sun had come out. “I was trying to be tactful, but since you already know Jasper, it is likely not news to you that he has difficulty remembering things. We spend a great deal of time on his lines.”
“I am well aware of it. It must be frustrating for you.”
She shook her head. “Not really. He works so very hard to master his lines that it would be hard to resent him. I admire him for taking on something that is so difficult for him.”
“I cannot imagine how he manages it. I tried to help him learn his Latin vocabulary, and gave up in despair.”
“He is likely more motivated to learn his lines.” Her smile faded. “I imagine you are uncomfortable about him living in my aunt’s house with me. The theatricals all know and do not care, but he is very careful to keep anyone else from discovering it. He always makes his own way to the theatre and back so that he is not seen leaving with me.”
He tried to push back his resentment of his cousin. “That is thoughtful of him. He has a good heart.”
“He has only mentioned you to me once,” she said with an inquisitive look.
Darcy’s mouth twisted. “As you said, I am part of the past he wishes to leave behind. I do not belong in his new world of theatre.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly, as if she suddenly understood something. “I am part of his new world. Is that why you wanted nothing to do with me that day?”
Puzzled, he asked, “What do you mean?”
She bit her lip. “When you came to the theatre with the little girl, you ignored me.”
Was it possible that his behavior had hurt her? “The first time I saw you at the theatre, you were frightened and ran away. The second time you pretended not to know me. The third time I tried to see you, there was a guard keeping everyone away from the stage door. You seemed afraid that I was pursuing you. I thought you would feel safer with me if you thought
I was uninterested in you.”
“You certainly convinced me of that!”
Mr. Jack strode in from outside. “How is your leg?” he asked coldly.
“The splint is uncomfortable, but the leg itself merely aches.”
“Then you are as ready as you will be to be taken down to Kinloch House. Miss Merton, you should go and make what preparations you need.”
Elizabeth paled. “May I accompany him down?”
Mr. Jack looked down his beaked nose at her. “No. If you are with him, he will try to be brave for your sake instead of telling us what he needs.”
She heaved a sigh. “Very well. Do you plan to bring him today?”
“There should be enough light,” he said.
She turned back to Darcy. “I will see you back at Kinloch House, then.” She looked as if she wished to say something more, but then she turned and left.
DARCY SUFFERED THE indignity of being carried out of the shelter and was rewarded with his first breath of clean air in days, a relief after the pall of smoke inside.
A ginger-haired man asked, “If we support you, can you swing your good leg across his back?”
Darcy blinked at the pony in front of him. “Yes, but a pony? Can he hold my weight?”
Mr. Jack’s sharp crack of laughter echoed in the courtyard. “A Highland pony? Easily, and he is more surefooted than a horse. You will be thankful for that soon enough.”
Darcy had not ridden a pony since he was a boy, and he felt like an oversized child with his feet hanging down.
Mr. Jack wrapped a blanket around his splint, no doubt more to protect the pony than to keep Darcy warm. “Does it hurt?”
“No more than usual.” It was true of his leg, but his ribs stabbed him with each breath. He reached for the reins, but Mr. Jack slapped his hand away.
“Jem will lead you.” The highwaymen jerked his head at the stolid young man holding the pony’s bridle. “Do not argue.”
Darcy had no intention of wasting the little energy he had on arguing. He was already exhausted. Having the pony led by a halter rope was just one more indignity.
“A slow walk,” Mr. Jack directed the young man.
It was not too bad at first. Darcy’s head pounded and his side throbbed, but not much worse than it had been before. The pony proved to be smooth-gaited despite the rough path. Darcy kept his eyes on the pony’s ears, since moving his head made him nauseous.
The journey seemed to take forever, but finally Jem pointed ahead. Darcy could barely make out a chimney and part of a roofline in the distance.
“Kinloch House,” said Jem unemotionally.
Not too much farther. Then the pony’s hoof slipped on a rock, something Darcy would not even notice under usual circumstances, but this time an excruciating pain lanced through his leg.
He must have cried out, because Mr. Jack demanded, “Your leg?”
“Yes.” Darcy hissed the words through clenched teeth.
“Might as well go to a fast walk, Jem,” said Mr. Jack. “The damage is done.”
Each step brought a new wave of pain, until it drove everything else out of his mind.
An eternity later, someone lifted him off the pony. In a red haze of agony, Darcy barely noticed being carried inside and placed on a bed. Lying still made the worst edges of the pain fade, but that mercy only lasted a few minutes until Mr. Jack unbuckled his brace and instructed the footman to pull on his ankle. Then merciful blackness overtook him.
Chapter 11
DARCY SWAM BACK TO consciousness, his head once again throbbing, but this time he lay in a bed that would have been comfortable if he did not ache in so many places. His tongue felt thick. Taking a deep breath made him cough, sending a stabbing pain through his ribs.
“Are you awake, sir?” asked the shadow of a young man with a soft, soothing voice.
“Everything is fuzzy.” The sound of his own voice made his head pound harder.
“Och, Mr. Jack gave you a wee dram of laudanum to help you sleep. It will clear.”
Laudanum. That would explain it. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon, sir. Is there aught I can bring ye? Hot chocolate, tea, or broth?”
“You can open the curtains. It is as dark as night here.”
“Aye, sir.” He tied back one of the curtains, sending a bolt of burning light lancing through Darcy’s skull.
Darcy threw his arm over his eyes. “Close it!” he croaked. The blessed darkness descended again. “Why is it so bright outside?”
“’Tis nae bright, but the blow to your head makes it seem that way. Mr. Jack said ye might prefer darkness and quiet for a time.”
It was too much work keeping his eyes open, so he let them close. “Is Miss Elizabeth here?”
“Aye, sir,” said the soothing voice. “When ye are ready, she will come to see you.”
He would manage to stay awake if the reward was seeing Elizabeth. “Then tea, hot water to wash, and a shave.”
“Aye, sir.”
A DETERMINED-LOOKING Mrs. MacLaren met Elizabeth at the breakfast table the next morning. “Miss Merton, since ye have no acquaintances in the area, I have taken the liberty of arranging for a chaperone to stay here while the gentleman is in residence,” the housekeeper said. “She will be arriving this afternoon.”
Elizabeth, her spirits already depressed after a long night facing painful facts, paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “That is unnecessary. Mr. Darcy is physically unable to do anything to compromise me, and in any case, I have decided to return to Edinburgh tomorrow.” She hoped she did not sound as hopeless as she felt. She was tired of running away.
“Tomorrow?” The housekeeper looked taken aback. “Is something the matter, miss?”
Something was most certainly the matter, but she could hardly tell the housekeeper that. “No. I simply wish to see my aunt.”
The older woman hesitated. “Surely Mr. Darcy is not well enough to travel yet.”
“Of course not,” she said sharply. “He will remain here until his health improves. I have great faith in your ability to provide whatever care and comfort he may require.”
“We will do our best.” The housekeeper was clearly puzzled, as well she should be. What sort of hostess would take such an interest in a seriously injured man, and then leave him behind for no apparent reason?
“So you can see there is no need for a chaperone. I wish you had asked me before you set it up.”
The housekeeper straightened to her full height. “If I permitted ye to have an unmarried man here, no matter how badly he was injured, with nae chaperone, your aunt would have me dismissed, and rightly so. I chose to act on the orders I knew she would give rather than to ask ye, just as I chose to have a maid sleep in the hall outside your room last night. Even if you are leaving tomorrow, you still need a chaperone.”
Elizabeth glared at her. The infuriating part was that the housekeeper was right, and it was unfair to blame her when none of this ridiculous situation was her fault. “Quite right,” she said wearily.
“Thank ye, miss. Shall I tell the maids to pack your bags?”
Something twisted inside Elizabeth’s chest. “Yes.” She had been so anxious to get Darcy safe in the comforts of Kinloch House that she had not considered what it would mean for her. But he had been fully lucid yesterday at the ruin. The emergency was over, and it was time for reality. And reality meant it was too dangerous for her to remain with him.
She would have to tell Darcy that she did not wish to see him again and ask him to stay away from her, and she would see the pain and confusion in his eyes because he could not possibly understand.
If only she could tell him the truth, to make him understand she had no choice! But he would not understand. He would never accept that she was helpless. No, he would try to fix it, just as he had tried to fix it when Bingley was about to make a match he disapproved of, and as he had tried to mend the scandal around her family. He was accustomed to having th
e power to change things. If she told him the truth, he would march straight to his uncle and demand that he withdraw his threats. And that would cause the worst outcome of all. She had to prevent Darcy from confronting his family, and the only way was to hide the truth from him, even if it made him hate her.
It was one more unfair turn in their story, that she should be required to hurt him when all she wanted was to be in his arms. She doubted he would ever be able to think of her without anger, and she would have to live with that.
His opinion of her should not matter, since she would never see him again after she left, but it did. It mattered all too much.
THE EFFECT OF THE LAUDANUM had worn off by midday, and with it the queasy, drowsy feeling. Darcy’s head still ached, especially when he moved it, but it was tolerable when he remained still. He could appreciate the satisfaction of being in a real bed, especially when that bed was inside a room with a solid door and a fire in a real fireplace. Between his head, his sore ribs, and the steady ache in his leg, he could not claim to be comfortable, but it was a great improvement over sleeping on a pile of heather in the cold, smoky ruin.
“Do you wish to dress or to wear a housecoat, sir?” asked the manservant with the soothing voice. “The housekeeper has found some clothes for ye. They will not be what ye are accustomed to, I fear.”
“What is your name?” asked Darcy.
“James. Or Young James, if you want to tell me from Auld James or Red James. Mrs. MacLaren says I am to serve ye until your own man arrives. How may I be of assistance?”
His own valet was never going to arrive, but he would deal with that later. “First a shave and wash, and then it will have to be the housecoat. Trousers will not fit over this brace.” Darcy threw off the counterpane and examined the monstrous contraption enclosing his lower leg. The ring around his knee had rubbed the skin nearly raw.
“I thought of that, sir.” James reached into a small cabinet and removed a pair of trousers. “I took out the side seam on these and replaced it with buttons. They can go on your good leg in the usual way, and then we can wrap them around the leg with the brace and button the side. It may not be pretty, but it should suffice for decency. There is a kilt as well, which would be even simpler to put on, but I thought an Englishman would prefer trousers.”
A Matter of Honor Page 17
