The Darcy Brothers

by Abigail Reynolds

  “Now it is your turn to willfully misunderstand me, sir,” she said.

  “Please say you will give it a chance,” he said, hoarsely.

  She looked towards the window, considering his words. He dared not move, dared hardly breathe for fear of distracting her.

  His whole being awaited her response.

  Finally, she turned to him, her eyes full of conflict.

  “You must give me time,” she said.

  “I will give you as long as you ask for. We could reach an informal understanding until you become more comfortable with the idea.”

  “No,” she said, biting her lower lip, laughter once again springing to her eyes. “I meant I need more time tonight. I will give you an answer in the morning.”

  In the morning? Elizabeth would be calm and rational; in the cold light of day, she would reject him. He could not allow that to happen, not now he fully appreciated the depth of his feelings for her.

  “Miss Bennet, if you will allow me to express—”

  There was a loud knock on the door.

  Darcy cursed the interruption. They had not given him enough time to convince her. They were hounding him.

  “I am having a private conversation,” said Darcy, as repressively as possible, hoping whoever was behind the door would go away.

  It did not work. The door opened and Darcy quickly sat back in the chair, putting a distance between himself and Elizabeth.

  “I am afraid I have to ask you to leave, Darcy,” said Anne. “The doctor is here to examine Miss Bennet. Come on Georgiana. We must act as chaperones.”

  Darcy was on the verge of asking the doctor to wait, but the relief on Elizabeth’s face was so obvious he felt guilty for even considering it.

  “We will speak of this after the doctor leaves,” he said.

  She nodded, but already her thoughts were distracted.

  As Darcy passed Georgiana, she looked at him. He shook his head slightly.

  “You will bring her round. I am sure of it, William,” she said.

  He felt heartened by her words. Elizabeth Bennet would agree to marry him, inevitably, if only because it was the only way to rescue her reputation. Then he would have a lifetime to convince her that marriage to him was not such a terrible fate after all.

  *****

  As the doctor entered, a harried-looking maid hurried forward to draw the bed curtains.

  “You! Stop that this instant! How am I to examine the patient if I cannot see her?”

  The maid cast a helpless look at Miss de Bourgh. When that lady shrugged, the girl backed away and whispered, “Yes, sir.”

  The elderly gentleman sniffed, then set his bag down on the bedside table. He frowned down at Elizabeth. “So, young lady, am I to understand you were foolish enough to put yourself in the way of a rifle?”

  After her encounters with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth’s tolerance for overbearing men was approaching its limits. “Why, yes; I thought it would be a fine adventure to be shot. I have always wondered why only men should have the privilege.”

  “None of your nonsense, now. Where is the wound?”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “The wound? Why, it was just here a minute ago. Let me think… I remember now. It is just under the bandage.”

  The doctor glared at Miss de Bourgh. “Has someone dosed her with some ridiculous concoction or is she simple-minded?”

  Anne coughed, perhaps covering a laugh. “She has had a trying day.”

  He harrumphed, then rummaged in his bag and produced a pair of scissors with the sharpest tips Elizabeth had ever seen. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he cut through the bandages and tugged them off, sending a sharp stab of pain into Elizabeth’s shoulder. She clenched her fists to keep from crying out. And this was the doctor Mr. Darcy had praised so highly? Perhaps he was gentler when his patient was a man.

  “Hmm.” He probed at the wound with one finger. This time Elizabeth could not remain silent. “Have they given you no laudanum?”

  “No.” Her voice was hoarse.

  “Fools.” The doctor pulled a small bottle from his bag, poured the contents into a glass and held it out to Elizabeth. “Drink this.”

  At that point, Elizabeth would have accepted laudanum from the devil himself. “Thank you.” She drank it down quickly, then coughed as the liquid burned her throat.

  “It works best when mixed with brandy,” said the doctor unsympathetically over the sound of her spluttering.

  Anne hurried forward with another glass for her. “Buttermilk to wash it down. It helps. Believe me.” With her free hand, she patted Elizabeth’s back while she glared at the doctor.

  Elizabeth, still unable to speak, nodded weakly. To think she had been glad when the doctor had interrupted them! She would be happy to trade him now, even if the only choice were Mr. Darcy.

  “They should have given it to you sooner; then it would be working by now.”

  Frowning, the doctor began to set out a series of metal implements in a neat row beside her along with an incongruous violet silk ribbon. Was he planning to tie her wound in a bow? He picked up a particularly wicked looking forceps and tested it by picking up another instrument.

  “Very good, then. I will examine her ankle while we wait for the laudanum to take effect. Once it does, I will need clean bandages and two strong manservants to hold her still while I remove the musket ball.”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Elizabeth hurriedly. “I can remain still on my own.”

  He peered at her over his spectacles. “Young lady, when you have removed as many bullets as I have, you may decide on what is necessary. Until then, I require two men.” He glared over at the maid. “Or do I need to fetch them myself?”

  The maid scurried from the room.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. How much worse could this day get? Being held down by footmen—she really must start keeping a list of all the men who had compromised her today.

  A hand slipped into hers. “I am so sorry, Elizabeth,” said Georgiana. “You can squeeze my hand if you need to.”

  “Thank you. I might prefer a pillowcase over my head.” At least she had one of the amiable younger Darcys now, not their stern elder brother. “Ouch!”

  “Hold still, and it will not hurt so much!”

  *****

  “Really, Darcy, she is in no danger at present,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “There is no point in scowling at the door as if it is your worst enemy.”

  Darcy turned his glare on his cousin instead. “She is in a great deal of pain, and I can do nothing to help her. Perhaps you think I should take that lightly.”

  Before Richard could answer, the door to Elizabeth’s bedroom opened, but it was only the maid leaving the room. Darcy stepped in front of her before she hurried off. “What is happening in there?”

  She bobbed a curtsey. “If you please, sir, the doctor looked at the wound, and he told me to fetch bandages and two footmen to hold Miss Bennet down while he removes the bullet.”

  “No.” The thought of his Elizabeth in so much pain as to require such measures made his stomach clench. The image of her being pinned to the bed by his aunt’s footmen was even worse. “Absolutely not.”

  “But sir, the doctor said most especially…”

  Thankfully Richard stepped in. “There is no need. Darcy and I will handle it. All you need do is fetch the bandages.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Richard cocked his head to one side. “I assumed you would rather not have footmen manhandling Miss Bennet, but you look rather pale. Are you certain you can manage this?”

  “Will it truly hurt her so much? Is there no other option?”

  His cousin sighed. “When a bullet goes in, it has to come out, no matter how much it hurts. He cannot just leave it there.”

  “I suppose not.” He would never forgive himself for allowing this to happen.

  “You must not go in there with such a worried countenance. If you wish to help Miss Bennet, you s
hould appear calm and confident, as if this is nothing important.”

  “I am not that good an actor!”

  “I know, but you could at least make the attempt.” Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Come, your lady awaits!”

  Inside the room, Elizabeth still lay in bed, but everything else had changed. Her shoulder was now exposed, and beside her the doctor had spread out what looked like enough equipment to do surgery on a battalion of soldiers. Darcy’s eyes were drawn to her wound like a magnet, the angry, red hole, now oozing blood again. He would have stopped in his tracks if Richard had not urged him onward.

  Richard addressed the doctor. “I understand you require assistance.”

  “Ah, yes, Fitzwilliam. You will do nicely. Since you know what you are doing, you may take the shoulders.”

  The Colonel glanced over at Darcy with an amused look. “Best put me on the arm instead, or you may be operating on me next.”

  “Hmmph; if you insist. Darcy, I need you on the other side of the bed then. Left hand on the young lady’s other shoulder.”

  Darcy hesitated. Would she not be angry if he put his hand on her? Decades of training fought against necessity.

  Elizabeth said resignedly, “You might as well go ahead. He will just scold until you do it.”

  Tentatively, he placed his hand on her shoulder, being careful only to touch the fabric of her dress.

  The doctor looked up. “And on my mark, your right forearm goes across her waist. When I give the word, you will need to use force to keep her still.”

  Darcy blanched. “I…”

  “Well, can you do it or do we need a footman?” snapped the doctor.

  Darcy’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “I can do it. Miss Elizabeth, my deepest apologies.”

  “Do you know, this is the first time in my life when I have wished to be the sort of lady who could swoon. Think of how much more comfortable all of us could be!”

  If Elizabeth was still teasing, perhaps her pain was not as bad as all that. He did his best to smile reassuringly. “Some day this may all make an amusing tale.”

  The doctor leaned down and peered into Elizabeth’s eyes. “Very well; it appears the laudanum has taken effect, so we can begin. Fitzwilliam, do you have her wrist and elbow?”

  Richard, damn him, seemed completely at ease as he complied with the doctor’s orders. “With pleasure. It is not often I am given such a good excuse to hold the hand of a lovely young lady.”

  Elizabeth made a weak attempt at a laugh. “I would not receive such flattery from a footman, I think!”

  Mr. Cox selected a long metal pick and held it up. “First, I will probe to find the bullet, then proceed with the extraction. If she does not remain still, this could worsen the wound, so pray hold her well. Gentlemen, are you ready?”

  Surely he could not be planning to put that thing in Elizabeth’s wound! Darcy tore his eyes away from the implement and leaned forward. Any trepidation about putting his arm over Elizabeth’s body had disappeared at the idea that, if he allowed her to move, she would be hurt even more.

  “I am about to begin.”

  Darcy felt Elizabeth’s body stiffen abruptly, but she remained still without his assistance.

  “Very good. It is not deep, and should be simple to retrieve.”

  Elizabeth whispered, “Simple. That is easy for you to say.”

  If only he could protect her from this! But telling Mr. Cox to stop would not serve any purpose. For Elizabeth’s sake, it was best to get this done quickly, but it shamed him that he could do nothing to help her. Wait—what had Richard said? Calm and confident? It was worth a try. “Elizabeth, look at me. You can do this. I know you can, and I will be here with you the entire time.”

  She seemed to relax for a moment. “That is…” Then her face scrunched up and she began to breathe in short gasps.

  He could not bear to see her pain, and her bravery in the face of it. If only he could take her pain onto himself! He would do so in a second, even were it doubly as bad. But all he could do was to hold her in place. “It will be over very soon.”

  Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead and she cried, “Stop, I pray you!”

  “I am here with you, Elizabeth, and I always will be. You are doing very well.” He hardly knew what he was saying, but somehow it was important to keep talking to her.

  “Hold her tight now, gentlemen!”

  Darcy braced himself just in time as Elizabeth’s body arched against his arm. A low keening sound escaped her lips.

  “There, I have it.” The doctor held up his forceps, a small bloody ball held in the tips.

  “Thank God,” Darcy muttered, releasing Elizabeth’s waist. “It is over, Elizabeth. The bullet is out.”

  Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Remind me in the future to stay far away from guns,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

  “I promise.” If he had anything to say about it, and he certainly intended to, no one would ever bring a loaded gun within a mile of Elizabeth. The next borough might be too close. “No more bullets.”

  When she almost smiled at him, he could not help himself. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a kiss on her forehead.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “There is one more thing that must be done. This will burn. You need only keep her arms away now.”

  Even more torture? The doctor poured a vial of clear amber liquid into the wound. For a moment Darcy thought it must not be too bad, then Elizabeth’s hand clamped down painfully on his fingers. Who would have thought she had such strength? Her wide eyes darted from one side to the other. A drop of blood appeared on her lip where she bit down on it.

  Richard said conversationally, “What was that you used?”

  Beloved cousin or not, Darcy wanted to kill him for sounding so calm.

  “Brandy,” said the doctor. “It burns out the ill humors.”

  “My regimental surgeon swears by rum, but he says it strengthens the flesh.”

  “Filthy stuff, rum. Does it work?”

  “Devil if I know, but more of his patients seem to survive. He leaves a bit of rum-soaked braid in the wound for the first few days, too.”

  The doctor picked up a strip of ribbon. “This is what I use. I never thought of soaking it in brandy. An intriguing idea.”

  Richard laughed. “I am glad our surgeon does not use violet ribbon! The men would be the laughingstocks of the army if word got out.”

  “No more brandy, I beg of you!”

  To Darcy’s relief, Elizabeth’s voice was hoarse, but steady. She relaxed her death grip on Darcy’s hand. “I hope I did not hurt your fingers, sir.”

  “Not a bit.” Later he would check them for damage. For the moment, Elizabeth seemed disinclined to release his hand, and he was not about to object.

  Anne touched his shoulder to get his attention. She held out a damp cloth, indicating Elizabeth with a movement of her chin.

  Taking the cloth in his free hand, Darcy wiped it gently across Elizabeth’s forehead, then dabbed at her lip to remove the spot of blood. “Is there anything I can get for your comfort?”

  She shook her head wearily. “I thank you, but no. As long as he is done with my shoulder, I can manage. I am sorry to be such trouble.”

  “Trouble?” said Colonel Fitzwilliam jovially. “Far from it. You should have seen me the time I had a musket ball dug out from my leg. I would tell you how much trouble I was, but it would give Darcy far too much ammunition to tease me later.”

  “Now, Miss Bennet, this ribbon must remain in the wound, do you understand? Every day, you must have someone draw it out just a quarter of an inch, no more.”

  Elizabeth said sleepily, “That is the silliest thing I have ever heard.”

  Richard laughed. “I believe the laudanum is talking.”

  The doctor frowned at her. “Young ladies never understand anything. The ribbon must remain to allow the wound to drain as it heals. Otherwise, the skin w
ill grow together and the poisons will be trapped inside. Then I will have to do all this over again to drain the abscess. You will not like it any better the second time, so keep that ribbon in place. And stay off that ankle for at least a fortnight.”

  Richard glanced at Darcy, then at Elizabeth’s hand in his. “Would you like some refreshment before you leave, Mr. Cox?”

  “No, I just wish to leave and not be called back again this time.” The doctor scooped up his surgical tools and dropped them haphazardly in his bag.

  “I will show you out, then. Cousin Anne, will you accompany us?”

  “Of course. Darcy, I sent Georgiana out of the room. She was turning an unnatural shade of green.”

  “Thank you for your consideration. Doubtless she is much happier without witnessing the details.”

  Darcy turned back to Elizabeth as his cousins left the room. Now that the bullet was out, he could enjoy holding her hand, without even the presence of a glove keeping them apart.

  Elizabeth wore a sleepy version of her arch look. “You do not choose your doctors for their amiability, I gather.”

  He laughed softly. “No. He can be quite acerbic and has no tolerance for what he sees as foolishness, but no one can match his healing skills. He saved Georgiana’s life when everyone else had given up on her.”

  “What happened to her?” Her eyelids were fluttering down.

  “She had pneumonia and was fading away before our eyes, until as a last resort we tried Mr. Cox. He threw out all the other doctors and told them they should not have bled her, and he started forcing her to move and cough. We had to take turns tapping her back—striking it, really—to loosen the mucus, then persuade her to take deep breaths and cough, every hour or two, day or night. She begged us to leave her alone and let her rest, but we could see she was improving.”

  “Mmm. Good.” Elizabeth’s eyes had drifted closed. “Glad…” Her voice trailed off, replaced by even breathing.