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“Of course she did,” he muttered. “Yes, Darcy House is also on Brook Street, number fifteen.”
“Let us go directly to your house then. I can walk across the street to my aunt’s and your men can drop off my trunk whenever it is convenient.”
“Very well.”
It was a testament to how badly he wished to get to his cousin that he agreed to such a scheme. Gentlemen like Mr. Darcy never let a lady walk across the street to her home when they could deliver her to the doorstep.
My musings were interrupted by the carriage coming to a stop in front of a tall, white brick house.
“If you will excuse me, Miss Bennet.”
“Of course.”
He nearly leapt out of the carriage and rushed to the door. His valet handed me down and looked prepared to walk me across the street to my aunt’s.
“Might I use pen and ink to send a note to my aunt? I doubt she expected me so soon and I want to make sure she is home.”
It was a thin excuse and he knew it, but he was not about to argue with one of Mr. Darcy’s friends in the middle of the street.
“Of course. Come with me.”
He led me into the house to a small parlor set behind the stairs on the main floor. There was a desk in the corner laid out with fresh paper and ink.
“Just ring the bell when you are done and someone will deliver it. I’ll let the staff know you are here.”
“Thank you.” It was lucky he offered to tell the staff of my presence. That would make sneaking around the house that much easier. He likely thought I was trying to spend more time with Mr. Darcy, or that I wanted news of his cousin. I did not particularly care what he thought, as long as I could achieve my aim and get out with no one being the wiser.
I wrote a quick note to my aunt, addressed it, and walked back to the hall. A maid was passing through and I asked her to see that the note was delivered. She said she would take care of it and went off to the back of the house while I made my way to the stairs. The stairway was typical of a London house. A wide staircase with an impressive banister and railings surrounding the opening that looked down from the floor above. I looked about to make sure no one was coming, then dashed up the stairs so quickly I was nearly out of breath when I reached the top.
I stood in a recessed doorway as I listened for any indication of where the patient might be. Finally, after I thought I would have to start pressing my ear to doors, I heard a loud cry that could only belong to an injured man.
I hurried down the corridor and paused outside the door the sound was coming from. The house seemed to be a similar design to my aunt’s, and if it was, the rooms were all connected with interior doors. The next door was ajar and I peered inside; it was a small sitting room. I could wait in there until everyone left, then sneak into the sick room. The colonel had stopped crying out and I was about to duck into the room when I heard the interior door open and Mr. Darcy and another man speaking.
“Are you certain it is necessary?” asked Darcy.
“The doctor said we must do something by tonight. I am sorry it has to happen here, but I did not want my children to be near it and there was nowhere else.”
“Think nothing of it. You did the right thing.” Darcy sighed and I wished I could go to him and offer comfort—almost as much as I wished I wasn’t skulking about in a strange house, my heart pounding in my ears. If they caught me here, I did not know what they would do, but I was certain it would not be pleasant.
Perhaps I should have offered to sit with the patient and avoided all of this, but I had never met the colonel and he was a man unrelated to me. No one would ever agree to it, and even if they did by some miracle, there would be a chaperone, and that was precisely what I did not need.
“He is finally resting peacefully,” said the unknown voice. I presumed it was the colonel’s elder brother. “Why do we not get something to eat and discuss this rationally.”
Realizing they were about to step into the corridor, I quickly opened the door to the sick room and slipped inside, my pulse pounding. I heard the gentlemen pass by just as I closed the door. If they were not so preoccupied, they likely would have noticed.
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to look about the room.
“Who are you?”
A maid stood near the bed, holding a pitcher of water. My mind raced as I thought about what I should say. If I was a friend of the family, she would stay to chaperone. If I lied and said I was family, she would likely know it for the falsehood it was. I could say I was the doctor’s assistant, but I was dressed like a gentlewoman.
I had never felt so much like cursing.
“I am here to check on the colonel. How is he faring? How high is the fever?”
I decided to simply treat it as a birthing room where I knew my way about and hope my confidence would carry the day.
The girl stuttered, clearly unprepared for such questions. “I think the fever is the same, ma’am. He’s been awful fitful.”
