Page 51 of Triumph at Pemberley

Or perhaps this was a ruse. Suspicious, Darcy asked, “Are you still in the High King’s service?”

Sparrow spread her arms wide, showing her tunic hanging loose around her. “No, Sparrow threw away her belt of enslavement! Now Sparrow is free!” The purple and silver sash she had worn was gone.

He had not known it marked her as a slave.

“How did you find us?” Elizabeth asked. The fae could not lie, but they could mislead.

“Sparrow ran after you when your man blinded the High King. He would have killed me for seeing his weakness. Sparrow wanted to live and be with her friend.”

Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “You blinded him? How?”

There had been no time to explain it then, and no point afterwards. Why bother telling her about an attempt that failed? “I threw iron shavings in his face as we were leaving. Granny had hidden them in my coat. I hoped it would give Georgiana a chance to flee, but….”

But Georgiana had not escaped, and now her chair would stay empty, perhaps forever. Because he had not been able to help her.

“You were right to leave while you still could,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Sparrow, will he be blind forever?”

The little fae chuckled. “Of course not. He heals from all wounds, usually within minutes. But the humiliation of being bested by a mortal – that will sting!” She rubbed her hands together.

And it had put Sparrow in danger, so she had come here.

Elizabeth said carefully, “You are welcome to stay here at Pemberley if you are willing to follow our rules for lesser fae. I like to know who is in a room with me, so I would ask you to stay visible when I am present and to leave when I request it. You must not repeat anything you have heard from me or any of my family, and you must not steal from mortals. Do you agree to that?”

Sparrow danced in place, smiling. “Of course! Sparrow will do whatever her friend wishes.”

Elizabeth gave him a helpless look, and he nodded his agreement. It would be a challenge for her, but they could hardly abandon the poor creature. And it might give her a little company during Darcy’s absence.

If only he were not leaving, and during the invasion, no less! It was just a delivery, but with Napoleon’s troops here, any travel felt dangerous.

Chapter 21

Frederica hardly recognized Sergeant Sutton when she finally found him in the dimly lit hospital tent. His face, which had been so ruddy just two days before, now was pale and wan. The hulking form that had saved her life was now reduced to a smaller shape beneath a thin blanket. Despite the stench surrounding them, the metallic scent of blood and bodily fluids, she could not miss the peculiar, stomach-churning odor of rotting flesh rising from his bed.

Her first instinct was to offer him sympathy, but Richard had said he would not want it, and that sort of thing never came naturally to her anyway. Instead she said crisply, “Sergeant Sutton, I am pleased to see you are recovering.” It was an overstatement; the best one could say of him at this stage was that he was still alive.

“Yer ladyship,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“You have done me a great service. You took your injuries while saving my life. Once you are up from this sickbed -” she dared not say 'recovered,' when even if he defied their predictions and lived, he would still have lost an arm, if not more - “you should know that you will always have a position in my household, regardless of your injuries.”

“Yer ladyship is gracious.” It was clearly a struggle, but there was relief in his eyes. There were far too many soldiers with wounds like his begging on the streets.

She took out the folded piece of paper she had prepared and placed it by his head. “I have written here how to find me. I am in the process of moving, but these people will know how to reach me.” It was hope she was giving him, rather than anything concrete - just a reason to live, because they said he had given up.

It was the least she could do.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She nodded, her throat oddly choked. Perhaps it was just the stench in here. Or was it the knowledge that she would live unscathed, and he would not? “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?” It seemed wrong to just walk away, when he had sacrificed everything for her.

He tried to say something, but she had to lean close to hear him. And try not to smell him.

“Will you tell Captain Jack I did my best?”

That again! All the soldiers thought Jack was the greatest hero of all time, but she supposed it was understandable. He had single-handedly raised a rampart to stop a French charge that would have wiped them out. “I will tell him you saved my life.”

He gave a slight nod that seemed to take a great deal of effort. His mouth began to move again, but this time she had to put her ear practically next to his lips to hear. “That boy next to me. He's not going to make it, an' he has something he wants to tell his ma. Will you... find someone to write her a letter for him, so he c'n go in peace?”

She straightened. “I will do it myself, this very minute, as soon as I get paper and pen.” She had never had the patience for mopping brows or the gift of offering comfort, but she could damned well write a letter for a dying boy.