Page 67 of Her Affections and Wishes

“I know.” He squeezed her even tighter.

She was terribly confused, and the sunlight hurt her eyes, but some things came back to her as she concentrated on Darcy’s arms around her. “All along, she wanted to harm me? You were right.”

He made a hushing sound. “She cannot hurt you any longer.”

Darcy knelt next to her, and tried to pick her up, but fell back with a wince. He was pale and shaky. “Are you sick?” she asked.

“I was,” he said with a pant with his eyes closed. “I will tell you later.”

People surrounded them both on the cart and around it. Elizabeth raised her head from Darcy’s embrace, blinking in the painful light. Lady Metcalfe struggled against two men who held her fast whilst another bound her hands.

“Killing her gives Julia the one thing she needs: time!” she screamed. “You would have married her! Then I could marry William.”

Elizabeth flinched at the loud noise of her tirade. She trembled, and it deepened the throbbing pain in her head.

“You need not hear any more of this,” Darcy said softly. “Leave it to the magistrate for now. Let us get you back to Woodcote.” He tried to lift her again, but he fell back against the side of the cart with a sigh.

Sir John pushed his way through the crowd around the cart. “They have arrested Lady Metcalfe. The magistrate wants to speak with you both.”

Darcy nodded and went to move, but Sir John laid a steadying hand on Darcy’s arm. “You look like death, Darcy,” he said. “The servants from Woodcote said what happened. Now that the fright over Miss Bennet has receded, you ought to see a surgeon.”

She wondered what had happened to Darcy, but she asked instead, “How did I get here?”

Sir John and Darcy exchanged a worrisome look. “Do you not remember?” Darcy asked as he took her hand.

It was hard to concentrate. Memories were now behind a dark veil. “I said good evening to you. We did not part as warmly as we should have. And then I remember waking up wrapped in the blanket and trying to breathe, and realising I was trapped. It was horrifying, but I cannot remember much else. Did I go for a walk?”

Darcy’s grim face frightened her. “Could you have hit your head?” His voice was soft, despite his stormy countenance. Maybe he was not angry with her for being confused, but angry that this had happened to her. That would be more like him. He was a kind-hearted man.

“The pressure in my head is unbearable,” she said, touching a hand to her head, trying to remember.

Darcy ran his fingertips over the same place. It felt like a sweet caress, but he looked so stern. “She has an enormous bump on the side of her head.”

“It is likely how Lady Metcalfe overpowered her,” said Sir John with a frown.

“She might have used this,” said Henry. Had Henry come to the races too? From the seat, he held up a bag and a parasol. “Did Lady Metcalfe have a parasol when you last saw her?”

Elizabeth shrugged, feeling weary. “I think we went for a walk? So she might have had it.” Her vision blurred again and her stomach roiled. She swayed, and Darcy held her steady. She looked up to thank him, but his appearance startled her. He was rather off-colour and looked parched. Dark circles like bruises were under both eyes. It could not be from only worry over her that made him ill and exhausted.

“The magistrate is here,” an onlooker called out.

“I think our friends need to see a surgeon?” stammered Henry. “They don’t look ready for questions.” Was he trying to be assertive? That was rather sweet. Darcy would be proud of him.

“They need to lie down before they fall down,” said Sir John. “The magistrate can wait. Henry, give those things to the constables once they have secured Lady Metcalfe. Someone will get your horse, Darcy. I will find someone to drive the cart to Woodcote Park.”

There was still a clamour of activity around her, and the noise only added to her confusion and the pain pulsing around in her skull. She slumped against Darcy’s shoulder and closed her eyes, and he put an arm around her and held her as the cart moved. Whatever had happened, Darcy was here now, and that was enough.

Chapter Fourteen

The surgeon was with them almost before it had seemed possible, but then Darcy recalled Warren had sent for him hours ago on account of his poisoning. It was Sir John who had to carry Elizabeth into the house, for Darcy could barely climb down from the cart on his own. Mr Hunter, the surgeon, rushed toward the entrance on horseback and offered to see to him first as he dismounted hastily, but Darcy shooed him away to tend to Elizabeth.

His poor betrothed was confused. The surgeon might be with her for some time, but he preferred that. What was poisoning compared to what was likely a mind-altering concussion?

He was relieved he made it to his own chamber unassisted. He waved off his valet and collapsed atop his bed, still wearing his boots.

A knock woke him and he threw himself upright, wondering if it was news about Elizabeth. The door opened, and Sir John crept in. He saw Darcy, then leered. “Hoping I was someone else? I think she will be confined to bed for some time—her bed, not yours.”

Darcy scowled. Sir John had been helpful today, but he was still a frustrating, lewd man. “I need to know how she is.”