And then, a deafening crack, and a molten dagger of agony tore into his shoulder. Darcy’s knees buckled, and he clutched at the pain. Hot stickiness covered his fingers.
“Darcy!” Reginald called, but he was too dazed to respond. Sickening waves twisted his vision, turned his stomach, and made his skin crawl cold and hot all at once. His ears clamoured for long seconds, and he felt as if the shock of it would make him cast up his accounts. Reginald hurled himself at Wickham, and only then did Darcy apprehend his cousin’s danger. He staggered back to his feet, his tongue thick. “Reginald—” he warned.
In another instant, however, the matter settled itself. From each direction on the road thundered a company of Houghton’s men, all mounted and armed. Nearly two dozen in all surrounded them, and a moment later, it was Wickham and his companions throwing down their weapons.
Darcy’s world spun. He dropped cold and knew nothing more for a long while. When he awoke, his head was in Elizabeth’s lap, in a carriage bound once more for London. He closed his eyes and passed out again.
Darcy House
“Itellyou,Darcy,my heart will never be the same, and I swear I have a new patch of grey hair.” Matlock rubbed his hand over a pate that was already growing so thin that a bit of silver was the least of his worries. “Was all that drama really necessary? Why did we not show up with force in the first place?”
“We drew them out,” Darcy reasoned. “And handed over half a dozen informants to the law, in addition to putting Wickham behind bars for good.”
“But you nearly got your wife and yourself killed! Not to mention me!” Reginald gulped down his drink in agitation, then, more kindly, asked, “How is the shoulder?”
Darcy smiled weakly. “Still attached, thank heaven. Where is Elizabeth?”
Reginald gestured with his glass to the door. “Still with her mother. Shall I call her?”
Darcy closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can wait.”
When his next visitor came, however, it was not Elizabeth, but Mrs Bennet. She approached the bed with a handkerchief wrung between her hands, her eyes moist as she peered cautiously to see if he was awake.
“Mrs Bennet,” he greeted her.
She flushed. “Oh, thank heavens! I thought surely you had been killed!”
He lifted a brow. “I thought that prospect would not distress you overmuch.”
“Oh—” She dabbed her handkerchief to her lips and fluttered her hands. “How very ungentlemanly of you to cast that up to me! Why, it was only a simple misunderstanding. Surely, you would not hold that against your own mother-in-law?”
He chuckled softly. “No, madam. In fact, though you had been misled, I rather admired your grit. You reminded me of another lady I know.”
“Lady Matlock?” Mrs Bennet perked up hopefully. “Oh, Lizzy introduced me to her. What an exquisite, magnificent creature! Why, the lace on her gown alone—”
“I meant a lady I admire even more than the countess,” Darcy interrupted. “The only one I shall ever have eyes for, the one who made a living man of me.”
“My Lizzy?” she whispered in awe. “Fancy that! My dearest girl! But that is not true, for she was always her father’s child. I hope you will not hold that against her, Mr Darcy.”
He grinned. “Never.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth scolded from the doorway, “you promised not to disturb him.”
Mrs Bennet started. “I was not disturbing him!” she huffed defensively. “We were only talking, were we not, Mr Darcy? But here she is to run me off, so I suppose I shall never have a proper chance to make amends.”
Elizabeth laughed and set her hands on her mother’s shoulders to kiss her cheek. “Jane is here and asking for you. She is in the drawing-room with Kitty and Lydia.”
“My Jane? Well, why did you not say so?” The lady scurried out the door, then stopped. “Lizzy, are you not coming?”
“I will be along, Mama,” Elizabeth promised. She waited until her mother had departed, then crossed the room to lean over his bed and brush a tender kiss to his brow.
“How are you, my love?”
“I would be better if you gave me a real kiss.”
She lowered her mouth to his lips and complied in a dizzyingly satisfactory manner. “Better?” she whispered.
He caught the edge of her sleeve. “Not quite.”
