“Mr. Darcy, do not be a fool. Take your laudanum. Do you have a bottle—no, of course not. I shall add it to the list when I send Sally out to the apothecary.”
“I will not take it.”
“If you’ve the will to manage the pain from that injury without anything to dull it,” Elizabeth said, rather impressed despite herself, “then you likely will have sufficient will to cease the liquid after the injury heals—you did not take much of this broth. When did you eat last?”
“You seem quite skilled at wrapping the bandage.” Mr. Darcy said instead of replying to the question. “How did you learn?”
Her husband was dead. Elizabeth looked at the fine wooden pieces that made up the ceiling.
He had already abandoned her. Abandoned her to the point that he’d tried to convince another woman to enter a false marriage.
“Mrs. Wickham,” the gentleman said when she did not reply, “might I do anything for you? You appear—”
“I am well. Perfectly well.” Elizabeth forced a big smile. “Tears never do anyone any good.”
“That is not true,” Mr. Darcy said. “I cried when my parents died, and on some other significant occasions. I do not hesitate to confess that I even cried for your husband, though I have no right as I was the one to kill him.”
“Did it do him any good?” Elizabeth asked. “It clearly did not helpyousince you still wish to die to expiate that guilt. I’ll keep you from doing that, just to spite both of you. Damned gentlemen—I apologize. Long association with your childhood companion has given me improper habits of language. My mother would have fainted if she heard me speak in such a way.”
“Do you wish anything to drink?” Mr. Darcy replied.
“Lord, no! Mr. Wickham did enough drinking for both of us. I never touch anything stronger than watered wine. Oh, but the story of the bandages is simple enough. I’ve become quite capable of doing many things over the past two years, and I’ve hired out as a nurse for pay a dozen times. Quite the servant I’ve become. What would my father say if he knew? He was quite right that Wickham would leave me without support. Now I suppose Mr. Wickham can never provide us anything. I do not know what we shall do!” She pressed her lips tightly together. Complaints were as useless as tears. “But as for nursing, I first got the experience of nursing when Wickham’s friend Denny got shot in his own duel.”
“Shall I owe you anything for the service?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“For bandaging you once? Do not be absurd.” Elizabeth felt a choking sensation. So little money. She barely had enough to return to London. Not quite enough for a stage to Hertfordshire.
Sheshouldask him for money.
And all this time she thought she did not care about her respectability, so long as she could avoid becoming a burden on her father, who stole the resources and chances that her sisters ought to have. It had been her choice to elope with a useless man when Papa had refused them permission because he’d been wise enough to see that Wickham was useless.
Elizabeth could not ask for money from the man who’d been shot by Mr. Wickham.
“Common courtesy,” Elizabeth said, “demands that I help you in this case. It is like what I did to pay those of my husband’s debts that he acquired while we still lived together.Heshot you—youmusthire a nurse.”
Mr. Darcy had a stubborn expression on his strong face. He would not be easy to force in this matter, but Elizabeth had more than enough tension and anger in her that she was prepared to fight upon the matter if she must.
Elizabeth went to the writing desk and quickly wrote out in a clear hand the shopping list. “Miss Darcy, give this to Sally. Make sure that she has the money or credit to purchase what is on the list.”
Miss Darcy immediately moved to do so. She’d been folding a piece of paper into an animal to entertain Emily.
The girl seemed to be quite good with children.
Elizabeth slumped in the writing chair.
And now there was nothing more that was urgent to do.
Damn.
Miss Darcy returned to the room with both children, and she immediately engaged George by showing him what she had been doing with the paper. Both were delighted by this.
Mr. Darcy still studied Elizabeth.
She stared back at him, until he looked away.
She knew what she must do. She needed to find where Mr. Wickham’s body was, if they had not buried him yet, and let George have a look at his papa. George should have one chance to see him that he might remember. And Elizabeth needed to pay her respects to him, and she needed to inquire at his lodgings if there were any personal items that might be of use.
What she could not do though was pay any debts he might have.
