by Rose Lorimer
My uncle stood and came beside me, taking my hand. “Forgive me, Lizzy. You are right. It is in moments like this we need to see beyond our mere existence.”
I squeezed his hand. “Uncle, William took care of me, dragged me through a mine and a field for hours, sat at my side forsaking his own comfort when I could not even acknowledge his presence. I need to do this. I cannot lose him…”
He turned to Dr Alden. “Do you think she can cope with such a journey?”
Dr Alden arched his eyebrows and smiled. “I am a man of science, but I would be a fool for denying the power of true love, Mr Gardiner. And your niece? She loves that man. I can attest to that.”
“I would go running if needed,” I hurried to add.
He nodded. “Very well. I will find us some horses.”
“Then get three horses, Mr Gardiner,” Charlotte said, coming to my side and looking into my eyes. “I cannot let Lizzy go alone if I can help too.”
Dr Alden checked his watch. “If everything occurred as planned, the main confrontation must have ended by now. Mrs Bingley and I will follow in my carriage. I will meet you at the house.”
My uncle shook his head and turned, mumbling, “I must have lost my mind to agree to this. May God help Mr Darcy with such a stubborn wife!”
Had I not been so distressed, I would have laughed at my uncle’s mumblings. But we had more pressing matters to consider at that moment.
Charlotte and I dressed in all the warm clothes we could find. We also borrowed two pair of breeches from the inn owner, leaving to Dr Alden to explain our need.
A quarter of an hour later, my uncle met us at the front of the inn with the strongest and fastest horses he could find. “We are lucky, ladies. A large group of men from London left some time earlier, leaving their horses to rest, and they are magnificent creatures.”
“Be careful, all of you,” Jane said as we mounted our horses, her lips and hands trembling as she bid us farewell.
“We will.” I knew Jane would have liked to join us, but the difficult day had drained too much of her strength already. “Take care of her, doctor. We will see you at the house.”
“Ready, ladies?” Uncle asked, turning his horse towards the main road. “According to the innkeeper, we must be about twenty miles from the property. If you keep a good pace without overtiring the horses, we can be there in less than two hours.”
I never was fond of riding, but I could only thank God for my mother’s interminable insistence for me to practice it. “Riding is a good way to keep your man interested in you,” she used to say.
Now riding could be my only way to keep my man alive.
***
After almost two agonising hours riding and a numb pair of legs and bottom, we finally arrived.
The house was quiet, but there was a light in the kitchen window. I knocked on the door and some minutes later Mr Nancarrow emerged.
“Mrs Darcy, what—”
“Not now, Mr Nancarrow. Have the men returned?” I asked entering the house and looking around.
“No, ma’am. But there was a messenger from Mr O’Connell asking if the Colonel and Mr Darcy were here. But they also have not returned.”
I stopped. “Why would Mr O’Connell send someone to ask that?”
“They were supposed to meet at the manor and then return here. Perhaps he thought they have—”
“What manor?”
“The old Gwynver Hall.” At my confused face, he cleared his throat and added, “The house where you and Mr Darcy, begging your pardon, spent the night together at Land’s End.”
I looked back at my uncle and he just arched his eyebrows. “We will have time for that later. Now, Mr Nancarrow,” I said, turning to the man. “I need someone to take me to this manor. It is imperative I arrive there as soon as possible.”
“I can take you there, ma’am. They confined my sister to her bedroom, and one of Mr O’Connell’s men is guarding her. But I can leave.”
“Excellent. Do you have hot water for tea? We need something to warm ourselves before continuing our journey.”
While Mr Nancarrow saddled his horse and prepared himself to leave, Uncle, Charlotte and I sat at the kitchen table drinking tea, and warming ourselves as much as we could before proceeding.
My mind, however, was on what Mr Nancarrow had said. “Why would Mr O’Connell send a man to inquire after William and the colonel?” I muttered, looking at my tea.
I raised my eyes and found Charlotte’s concerned gaze on me. She put her cup down. “They must have… failed to return.”
I looked at my uncle and found the same dread in his eyes.
“We need to go. Now!” I did not want to think what that could mean. Why had they not returned? God Almighty! I would die if something had happened to William.
I darted to the stables, shouting at Mr Nancarrow to make haste while I mounted my horse. Gratefully, uncle and Charlotte were just behind me.
Half an hour later, we arrived at Gwynver Hall. It had not been far, but the dark night delayed our progress as the road was not as good as those linking Penzance to Truro.
We approached with care, and soon I saw a light, and recognised Mr O’Connell at one of the broken windows. They must have seen us too because some men came out of the house pointing their pistols in our direction.
“It is I, Mrs Darcy,” I shouted. “I came to see Mr O’Connell.”
The man himself came out of the house to meet us.
“Easy men!” Mr O’Connell shouted. He helped us to dismount. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Not the best of receptions. “I have important information. Can we come in? We are freezing.”
Mr O’Connell sighed. “Of course. Forgive me. Please, come in.”
At the entrance hall, they had removed the whole floor and crates with clay artefacts — vases, busts and small statues — were everywhere. “Our plan to arrest those criminals succeeded,” Mr O’Connell said behind me. “We are now finding where they hid their loot.”
We entered the kitchen, and I almost melted at the lovely fire burning on the hearth. A man placed a pot of fresh tea in front of us as we peeled off our heavy garments and sat down.
“Mr O’Connell,” I began before he could open his mouth. “This is my Uncle Gardiner. He and Mr Bingley are partners in a shipping company. I found my uncle in Truro…”
I related to him what we had learned. And at every word his frown only deepened.
Mr O’Connell rubbed his forehead. “I am not sure how this Mr Glowbrenn fits in the story, but their delay suggests something went wrong. They were supposed to return at least an hour ago. I have men inside the mine now, checking every tunnel. If they are there, we will find them. But if they are not, I am not sure what we can do. No one knows the location of this hole you fell in. At this point, it is like searching for a needle in a pile of hay. In the dark!”
“I know where this place is,” I said, standing up, my whole body trembling. “We need to leave now. Please, make haste.”
Behind me, Mr O’Connell and my uncle exchanged whispers as they walked. Not so low, though, as I heard them. “Is she always like this, Mr Gardiner? Your niece is a force of nature.”
“You have no idea,” my uncle whispered back. “And her friend, is much the same.”
***
To my great despair, we found William and the colonel’s horses tied to a trunk at Sennen Cove, the poor beasts frozen to the bone.
That could not be good.
Feeling my legs wobbling, not sure if it was due to the physical exertion or at such a discovery, I urged my horse forward. “This way,” I shouted, leading them to the path where I had experienced the worst moment of my life — the moment I had succumbed to the despair of imagining William already married.
Am I to have an even worse experience tonight?
The clouds dispersed, giving way to a large moon to light my way. Good, for I did not care to slow my horse. I had run that land o
n foot, giving no attention to my steps before. I could do it again on horseback.
The remaining riding was excruciating. Every inch of my body was aching in pain and burning in fear, my head spinning with the possibilities ahead.
God, may they not be dead!
I slowed down and looked around, familiarising myself with the dark surroundings, comparing them to my daylight memories. Looking behind me as my companions approached. “Now we go up the hill. It is behind that grove.”
As we reached the place, my body stiffened at the sight of something on the ground. I dismounted, my legs almost crumpling with my weight. Some yards ahead of us, three bodies lay together on the cold ground.
“No…” I whispered desperately, my vision tunnelling on them as I ran. I collapsed beside them, confused by what I was seeing. They were laying down together on their sides, William in one end, Charles on the other, the colonel in the middle. They were all shivering.
“William,” I called, touching a large smudge on his forehead.
Mr O’Connell was already kneeling by my side, reaching for their necks. “They are alive, but barely.” He raised his frowning gaze at me. “You have saved their lives, Mrs Darcy. We would never have found them in time.” He stood up and shouted orders for his men.
“E-Elizabeth?” William called, his voice failing with his intense shivering.
“Hush… I am here. Do not talk. You are safe now.”
“Help him. R-Richard… was shot…”
I turned my eyes to the colonel’s side and gasped, noticing the huge blot on his side. “Mr O’Connell!” I shouted. “It is the colonel. He was shot!”
Mr O’Connell was at my side in a second. He gently turned the colonel and checked him. Taking some deep breaths, he whispered, “Hold on, old friend. Do not let me down now.”
I looked behind me and found Charlotte’s pleading eyes on me. I stood up and took her hands, sharing with her our deepest fears.
The next hour passed as a blur. With army precision, they assembled a stretcher. William and Charles, in better condition, were placed on the horses and taken to the manor house, while they accommodated the Colonel on the stretcher and tied it to two horses.
Back at the house, Charlotte and I were ushered to the kitchen as the men assessed their injuries. We startled when some minutes later an agitated Mr O’Connell entered.
“Darcy and Bingley have just superficial injuries. We laid them by the fire after some generous doses of whiskey. They are sleeping now. Mr Gardiner is with them. But I need some help with the Colonel. Do any of you know how to stitch a wound? Our man responsible for this kind of job was sent back to Penzance with Pascoe and the other wounded.”
I looked at Charlotte as she stood up. “I do. I have some nursing training.”
“Good. Come with me, please.”
As we followed him upstairs, Charlotte took my hand and squeezed it.
“What do you mean you have nursing training,” I asked, trying to distract her. “It has been over five years since you worked with your father.”
“I have been attending my brothers since their return from university. You would be surprised by the number of injuries adult men can contract playing with swords. Besides, Mr O’Connell need not know about this small detail. It must be like riding a horse, I would say.” She gave me a meaningful look. “How long ago had you ridden a horse before today?”
That remark was enough to shut my mouth. I could not even remember the last time I mounted a horse, much less rode it for two hours.
I looked back at Charlotte. “He will be fine. He is a strong man.”
She swallowed hard. “I know, Lizzy. But like you, if I can help him, I will.”
Mr O’Connell stopped at the door before opening it. “Please, ignore his mumblings. We gave him a larger dose of whiskey.”
Charlotte and I exchanged meaningful glances.
Inside, the bedroom was cosy and warm, quite different from when William and I had stayed there. William and Charles were in one corner, closer to the hearth, sleeping, uncle with them. Colonel Fitzwilliam was in the other corner, on a bed, his ample bare torso exposing scratches and a nasty gunshot wound at his side. On the small table beside him were a candle, a pan with water and some clean cloths.
“We checked the wound already,” Mr O’Connell explained. “Fortunately, it was a clean shot. The bullet tore his skin, but found its way out the other side, although it left a mess in its trail.” He turned and touched the colonel on the shoulder. “Fitzwilliam, you have company. Miss Lucas is here. She will stitch your wound. Be prepared, soldier.”
At these words, the colonel opened his eyes and focused on my friend, opening a large smile. “Thank God. You are much more beautiful than O’Connell, Miss Lucas,” he slurred.
Charlotte held back a smile and sat at his side, pulling the candle closer. The wound was indeed a mess. She washed and dried her hands, stopping them midway. “Colonel, I will touch your wound and see what I can do. If it is too painful, please let me know.”
He looked at her, resignation in his eyes as he perused her face. But there was something else, something similar to admiration and tenderness. It seemed, it was not just my friend who was infatuated after all.
She touched around his wound, and he flinched. She stopped and turned. “How much whiskey have you given him, Mr O’Connell?” she asked with a serious tone.
“About half a cup.”
“If I am to do it properly, I need him to take at least two.”
The men in the room twisted their noses, glancing at each other.
“You all heard the lady,” Mr O’Connell said grabbing three empty mugs. “It is for a good cause. Now, I want to see these mugs filled. Yes, everyone has something else to give.”
As he passed the mugs, each man fetched his individual flask from different pockets and poured their contents into the mugs. He left the room and we could hear him talking to the other men, each one contributing from their personal ration. When he returned, the three mugs were full.
Charlotte thanked them all and asked them to leave, claiming she needed peace and quiet to concentrate on her task. All of them left, but Mr O’Connell and the three other men at the other end of the room.
She raised the colonel’s head and brought the cup to lips. “I need you to take it all if I am to do a good job. I do not want a black eye while I am concentrating.”
He chuckled and winced. “I am afraid I do not behave very well when inebriated. So, I apologise beforehand if I say something… well, inappropriate.”
“If you keep your hands to yourself, I can cope with the rest,” she said smiling, helping him to finish the second cup.
“Then, we have a deal, Miss Lucas,” the colonel said, closing his eyes.
Charlotte looked back at us and reached into one of her pockets, smiling. “Better be sure than sorry. An accomplished woman never leaves home without her sewing kit.”
Her smile vanished as she looked back at the colonel and passed the long thread through the needle hole. She took the third cup and poured some whiskey on his wound, dabbing it with a piece of clean cloth. Then, taking a big gulp herself, she started.
The colonel flinched and with a deep frown he opened his eyes, staring at her.
“Easy, Colonel. We have a long journey together before we can go back home,” she said, focused on her task.
He flinched again, then seemed to relax. In a thoughtful way, his voice almost unintelligible, he added, “Yes, home... I am happy I have asked you to marry me after all… I thought I had not had the opportunity…” He nodded satisfied and then closed his eyes. “I knew I would never let a woman like you to escape.”
Charlotte pursed her lips and looked at us.
Mr O’Connell cleared his throat, holding back a smile. “I-I just remembered something I need to do.”
I chuckled at his fast retreat as Charlotte turned and resumed her work.
“Drunk people do not lie, Charlotte
,” I whispered. “They just say what they want without reserve. It seems the colonel was foreseeing doing exactly that when he apologised.”
She chuckled. “Do not worry, Lizzy. I am not a swoony lady. If this is what he wants, he will repeat it when he is sober. I can wait.”
My dear friend was wise beyond her years.
I heard some laughter coming from the other side and turned. My eyes locked on my husband’s handsome face.
“William has awoken,” I said, patting her shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”
Chapter 34
Darcy
Despite the hammer banging on my head, I felt warm and comfortable. I opened my eyes and relief flooded over me. At my side, Bingley was awake, drinking something. Beside him, two gentlemen were talking.
“Welcome back, Mr Darcy,” Mr O’Connell said, turning to me, his relaxed expression telling me everything had ended well.
But my contentment was spoiled when I realised where we were. And why.
“Richard?” I croaked.
“He is fine. See over there?” he asked, pointing to the other side of the room where two female figures were. “On the left is your wife. On the right is her friend stitching his wound. As you see, he is very well cared for.”
“Miss Lucas is… stitching Richard’s wound?” I asked without taking my eyes from the scene. “Did you… give him some whiskey too?”
Mr O’Connell laughed. A booming and honest laugh. “Yes, we did. Two full cups at Miss Lucas’ request. The poor man has a gash on his belly and must be feeling a great deal of pain. But I am afraid it is too late for further concerns, Mr Darcy. Fitzwilliam has already revealed his intentions to ask the lady to marry him.”
I closed my eyes and chuckled.
Before opening my eyes again, I lifted a thankful prayer as the feeling of safety enveloped me. Despite all the odds and adversities, we had made it.
My heart leaped with joy as Elizabeth turned and looked at me, our gazes locking.
“If you will excuse me,” I said, standing up and walking towards her, longing for her touch as a man lost in the desert longs for a few drops of water. I knelt at her feet, surrendering my tired body to the warmth of her embrace, resting my face on the softness of her bosom. “God, Elizabeth. I thought I would never see you again.”