Page 93 of The Lost Prophecy

Mr Darcy nodded. “The officers will be informed that he became unwell and departed privately.”

“No compulsion,” Elizabeth reminded him.

“None.”

Mr Hurst pointed at the service door. “I shall tell Colonel Forster. He has known Wickham for too short a time to consider sudden disappearance unusual.”

“Mr Collins cannot return in that state.” Charlotte indicated the blood on his cuffs and shirtfront.

Mr Collins examined himself, registering the damage for the first time. “Mrs Bennet will object.”

“Your principal concern is Mrs Bennet?” Mr Hurst paused at the door.

“She will be appalled.”

Fletcher inspected Mr Collins’s coat. The black fabric had concealed most of the blood, although grey residue covered one sleeve and the white cuffs had suffered beyond any explanation involving ordinary clumsiness.

“Mr Bingley has fresh linen in his dressing room. The size will be tolerable. The cravat may require adjustment.”

“My own arrangement was commended by Lady Catherine.”

“I understand, sir,” the valet said, “but the vampire blood has altered it.”

Mr Hurst left through the service passage, while Fletcher sent one servant upstairs for the replacement linen. Mr Darcy stayed with Elizabeth until Mrs Hurst entered a few minutes later. She had come at an ordinary pace, ensuring that no guest would associate her retreat with alarm.

“Caroline has begun another set. Charles remains with Miss Bennet, and no one has entered the western corridor.” Mrs Hurst inspected Elizabeth’s gown. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Your glove is torn.”

Elizabeth lifted her right hand. The seam had split in her palm when she seized the chair, leaving the skin exposed but unmarked.

Mrs Hurst turned to Charlotte. “There is a dressing room accessible through the service stairs. I shall take Miss Elizabeth there. Will you remain with Mr Collins?”

“Of course.”

Mr Collins appeared reassured by the arrangement and troubled by his relief.

Mr Darcy stepped nearer. “I shall accompany you as far as the stairs.”

“That is unnecessary,” Elizabeth countered.

“I know.”

His face made clear that this knowledge would not affect his decision.

The service passage carried them behind the public rooms. Music travelled through the walls, uninterrupted and almost indecently cheerful. Mrs Hurst led Elizabeth up a narrow staircase used by servants and into a small dressing room adjoining one of the guest chambers. Mr Darcy stopped outside the door, while Mrs Hurst entered with Elizabeth and called for her maid.

The maid brought clean gloves, water, and a dark shawl. Mrs Hurst removed the torn glove and examined Elizabeth’s hand for injury before washing a trace of dust from her wrist.

“You know how to remove blood from silk,” Elizabeth observed as Mrs Hurst treated a small mark near the hem of her gown.

“Cold water first. Heat fixes the stain.”

“Experience?”

Mrs Hurst continued working. “More than embroidery.”