CHAPTER 28
Darcy was happy to see Dr. Sculthorpe’s cart sitting beside the Bennets’ recently repaired carriage in the shed. The doctor had not yet departed, which meant he could oversee Elizabeth’s electrical stimulation to ensure there was not an element they had overlooked.
Why did he trust the doctor? His credentials were as impressive as the other “experts” Darcy had investigated, but Dr. Sculthorpe’s conclusions stood in stark contrast to the notable doctors and scientists’ understanding — the very men who offered no better treatment than bashing his betrothed on the head.
That must be it. Dr. Sculthorpe was their only other option. If his theory was right, Elizabeth would suffer no permanent damage.
But if he was wrong…
Darcy clenched — his jaw, the reins, his resolve to woo Elizabeth.
“Darcy? Do you mean to sit there atop your horse all day, or are we to call?” Richard stood by Hill, Longbourn’s door open to receive them.
He shook his head and dismounted. “Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.”
“I had not noticed.”
Darcy wanted to wipe the smirk from his cousin’s face, but he must not give in to his aggravation. He was here to court Elizabeth, not beat his insolent cousin in front of her and her family.
Dr. Sculthorpe greeted them enthusiastically. “Gentlemen! We have been expecting you.”
Elizabeth looked well, though there was a strain around her eyes. Her manners were more reserved than usual. She greeted and smiled sincerely enough, but something was … off.
Richard bowed gallantly. “We are ever at your service. Do you have any progress to report?” he asked jovially, elbowing Darcy so that he bowed, too.
The doctor chuckled. “Only that I am tempted to extend my stay if Mr. Bennet does not object…” He glanced at his university chum.
“Of course, you must stay, Sculthorpe. As long as you wish. The conversation has improved dramatically since your arrival.”
A belly-bouncing cackle and, “I cannot take all the credit when it was Mr. Darcy who brought you thatdelightful machine.” He rubbed his hands together. “I do hope I will be able to observe its use today.”
Elizabeth said, “Say the word, and you can have the honor of strapping the contraption to my head.” Her voice was merry. Too merry.
“Delightful! Simply wonderful! I say, Bennet, I have not been this entertained in years. One day in your household is more eventful than one of those horrible gothic novels.”
They laughed. Darcy did not. Tension built inside him along with the suspicion that there was something the Bennets were hiding.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “Have you met with any success discovering my errant son-in-law’s whereabouts?”
Richard shook his head. “He has not visited his usual haunts, and everyone of whom Darcy and I have inquired denies seeing him. I am beginning to think the rascal really did depart for London, and Mr. Collins requires spectacles.”
Nobody laughed. Something was definitely wrong. Darcy looked to Elizabeth for answers.
She smiled at him softly, and he felt her reassurance … which meant his instincts were correct. Something had happened. Something awful enough for her to hesitate in its telling. Something requiring guarantees of well-being before it could be told.
Mrs. Bennet sent for more tea, complaining about their absent footman and shuffling her daughtersaround so that Miss Kitty was forced to relinquish the chair beside Elizabeth. Her ability to arrange circumstances to her daughters’ favor so quickly was admirable, and when she offered him the chair, Darcy was pleased to accept.
Once the tea was brought in and steaming in their respective teacups, Elizabeth began, “It has been a rather eventful morning for us. First, I will assure you that I am well.”
In Darcy’s haste to set the tea on the table, he sloshed the scalding liquid onto the saucer.
She rested her hand on his forearm. “I am well, and I need you to listen calmly before I will continue.”
He nodded his head, his foresight of what was to come offering little consolation and feeling anything but calm and growing increasingly agitated as Elizabeth told them about a second attempt on her life — for Darcy was now convinced that the carriage accident had been directed at her.
When she described the bee stings, he looked her over from head to foot, only then noticing that she wore wraps on her feet where slippers — or her favorite half boots — ought to have been.
He would kill the fiend who did this.
