“Let us get started. I have a warm bed waiting,” Wickham said, removing his coat and handing it to a servant.
Bingley inhaled deeply. “Very well. I will count off ten paces, then you will turn and fire.”
Both Darcy and Wickham took their positions. Bingley nodded at Darcy, who nodded once.
Thank you, Charles, for being the same friend in this life that you were in my other.
“One…two…three…”
The men began to walk toward their destinies, one more arrogant, but both equally confident.
“Four…five…six…seven…”
Darcy felt the metal of the pistol in his hand and pulled the hammer back.
“Stop! Stop!”
Birds in the distance scattered as the men turned to see Elizabeth and Anne de Bourgh running toward them.
A loud crack echoed through the meadow. The last thing Darcy heard was Elizabeth’s scream as he fell to the ground.
April 19, 1812
Darcy’s head was pounding, and he saw bits of light shooting across his closed eyelids. His limbs felt cumbersome, and his tongue thick.Where am I? What happened?And then he remembered.Wickham!
He slowly tried to sit up and open his eyes but could not.
“Oh,” he moaned, leaning back.
“He is conscious,” a voice said.
He tried to force his eyes open but, much like his non-responsive limbs, they were heavy and refused to obey. After a moment, he recognized her clean, sweet fragrance, and a warm glow spread through him.My Elizabeth! I am at the parsonage.
A cool cloth traced over his brow. She was leaning against the bed, and he could feel her body move when she spoke.
“Remain still, sir.” Her voice tight, she called out. “Send to Rosings immediately and tellthem he has stirred! Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh will want to be made aware of his improvement.”
Darcy heard quick footsteps across the floor, down the stairs, a door slam, then silence.
She exhaled a deep breath before speaking again. “Now, sir. Will you not open your eyes for us? We have been worried about you for several days.”
Several days?
He shifted and heard the smile in Elizabeth’s voice. “There you are.”
His head was whirling, but he forced his eyes to flutter open. The brightness shocked him, and he squinted at the rays.
“My eyes.” His voice was raspy and unused as he closed his eyes again, finding comfort in the darkness.
“You will be well. It is bright in here, to be sure. Elise, please, close the curtains,” she said. “Your family and the doctor will be most pleased with your progress. Now drink. You are weak and need sustenance.” She put her hand behind his shoulders and raised him slightly, holding a cup to his lips.
He drank deeply, and covered her hand with his own, bringing it to rest on his chest when he had finished slaking his thirst. “Thank you, Elizabeth.” He heard a slight gasp andgrinned at the surprise of using her Christian name before the servants.It is no matter. We will be wed soon.
He rubbed his fingers over hers. “Tell me of Wickham, my love. Was he injured?”
“Wickham?” Her voice was stilted.
“Yes. Is he dead? That will please my aunt, but I take no joy in death. Although he has used me ill, I am no murderer.” He closed his eyes and breathed in her calming scent. “How did I come to be injured?”
