At fifteen paces, he turned but kept the muzzle of his pistol down while he waited for Mr. Bennet, who would drop a handkerchief to signal them to fire. What in the hell was he doing? Yes, he needed to rid Elizabeth of James, but was Carlisle correct and there was a better way? He was not afraid of death, yet he was not ready to die. He had too many reasons to live.
The white scrap of cloth in Mr. Bennet’s hand suddenly was free, floating in a dreamy fashion towards the ground. “Darcy!” screamed Carlisle, causing him to flinch and raise his weapon. A crack sounded, and he flinched again as it echoed through the fog. James had gotten off his shot first. He tensed, waiting for a searing pain to rip into his flesh. He closed his eyes and dragged in a breath, picturing Elizabeth and Alexander. He would wish for no other image in his mind when he died. He had failed. Now he had to pray Carlisle would do as he had promised.
The air was heavy and difficult to inhale. He opened his eyes as a bright light pierced the mist in front of him.
Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered and she snuggled further into the coverlet. She was not ready to wake, yet Alexander would need to be fed at some point. A drawn-out yawn took over her body as she rolled to her back.
Fitzwilliam must have awakened early. His side of the bed was cold to the touch and the quilt had been tucked securely around her. How was he not as exhausted as she? Last night, he had been positively insatiable. They had loved one another twice on their wedding night as well as once the next morning, but the night before, every time her eyes began to drift closed, he was caressing her or kissing her awake, not relenting until she had found her release. Her body still hummed though it had been hours since he finally let her rest.
The clock on the mantel chimed, and she took note of how many times it rang; however, before she could finish, a knock came from the adjoining room.
“Yes!”
Lalande bustled through with Alexander propped on her hip. “Forgive me, Madame, for disturbing your rest, but the young master wishes to nurse. He keeps rubbing his nose in my chest. I have told him over and over mine do not work in the same fashion, but he refuses to listen.”
Once Elizabeth pushed herself to a seated position, she held out her hands for her son, who reached eagerly for her. “Come here, sweet boy.” He latched on swiftly, and as he always did, gulped steadily. “You would think he never eats.”
“I think he has missed you some too. Usually, you fetch him when he awakens in the morning.”
“Perhaps.” A knock sounded from the outer door, causing them both to start. Her maid bustled over and allowed Jane inside. Elizabeth adjusted the sheet she had covering one of her breasts, though it revealed nothing.
Her sister sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Alexander’s little curls. “He is the most beautiful child.”
“Wait until you have your own. You will think him beautiful too.”
“I do not doubt you.” Jane’s eyes moved from Alexander to Elizabeth’s face and settled while she bit her lip.
“What do you need to tell me?”
Jane startled and placed her free hand over the small swell at her waist. “Pardon?”
“You never look at me in such a way or bite your lip unless you are nervous about revealing some nonsense. What is it? I would prefer you simply dispense with the unpleasantness so we can move on with the day.”
A deep breath was sucked into Jane’s lungs and blown out. “Nicholas confided that yesterday, he and Fitzwilliam met with James.”
Without paying heed to the sheet, Elizabeth sat straighter and clutched Alexander more securely to her middle. “They did?”
“Yes. Fitzwilliam pressed and baited James until James revealed the nasty nature he originally tried to mask. He insulted you by calling you several variations of whore.”
“That does not shock me.”
“He also insisted Alexander was not the natural child of Thomas.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Before you and Lalande, I shall not lie on that score, yet he cannot prove it.”
“Lizzy, Fitzwilliam challenged him to a duel.”
“What?” A chill overspread her body, penetrating deep into her soul. “No, he would never.” Suddenly, last night’s activities played within her mind—how desperately he strove to bring her as much pleasure as possible, how he never seemed satisfied, and how he constantly told her he loved her, that he could never live without her. “Oh, God.”
She was going to vomit. The sparse contents of her stomach burned at her throat, and her head spun. Her legs itched to spring from the bed and dress, but she could not simply leave without feeding Alexander. Before she could speak, Lalande set a basin on the mattress beside her.
“You must breathe, Madame. You appear a little green.
Elizabeth glanced between the two of them. “Why would he do this?”
“He thought it the best way to rid you of James.” Jane placed her hand over the quilt onto Elizabeth’s calf. “He did not want you to worry, but he and Nicholas departed before sunrise. It has been hours, and they have yet to return. I did not know what to do when they failed to walk through the door. I could not keep this from you. When I spoke to Lalande, she insisted you slept soundly. I simply prayed you would wake soon.”
Alexander released her nipple so she swapped him to the other breast. “Lalande?” she called loudly. “Please ready my habit!”
“You cannot be serious. What of James and the colonel?”
“I have no other choice. I must know what has happened, and I cannot sit here helpless while I wait. Do you know where?”
“In the field by Harper’s bridge.”
As soon as Alexander released her, she handed him to Jane and hurried to don her chemise, petticoats, and stays. Once Lalande had her completely outfitted, she kissed Alexander on the forehead and Jane on the cheek. “I shall return soon.”
“Be careful,” said Jane, her tone pleading.
“I shall have someone accompany me.”
“Matthew or Jonathan can go. I notified both of them in the event you insisted on following after Fitzwilliam.”
“You know me too well,” said Elizabeth as she slipped out of the door.
When she reached the kitchens, Jonathan was dressed and ready to ride out to Harper’s bridge. She strode to the stables, hoping they had a suitable mount else she be forced to walk to Longbourn and beg the use of her father’s horse.
Without delay, they climbed atop the two steeds Jonathan must have requested from the grooms before their arrival. Elizabeth had not ridden since before Alexander’s birth, but after a few moments of unease, she fell right back into that rhythm, giving the stallion his head as she tore across the grass towards Harper’s bridge.
Her blood rushed through her ears and mixed with the wind in a noise that was nearly deafening. How could he do this? Did he not know how much she needed him? If she had not been tearing across a field at a gallop, she would have closed her eyes and prayed. Fitzwilliam had to be well! He had to be!
When they reached Harper’s bridge, the fields surrounding it were empty save a few sheep to the north side. Where were they? Granted, it had been a few hours since daybreak, yet Fitzwilliam had not returned to Netherfield. He had to be somewhere.
She once again swallowed down the burn in the back of her throat. Something was dreadfully wrong. Neither Nicholas nor Fitzwilliam had returned to Netherfield, yet they were not here. Where could they have gone?
“Should we try Meryton?” asked Jonathan. “If someone was injured, they might have brought him to the apothecary for the surgeon to treat him.”
Her head whipped around to regard Jonathan. “I had not considered that. Yes, we should.”
Harper’s bridge was only a mile from town, so the ride was not long to reach the first of the cottages where they slowed to a trot. Mr. Jones’s home was on the far side of High Street. Elizabeth turned her horse towards the old stone cottage along the opposite end of the town.
Several men stood outside, ga
thered by the horses. One turned and lifted his leg to mount his horse, and a sob caught in her throat. “Fitzwilliam!”
He returned his foot to the ground and approached her horse, taking the reins as she came to a stop. “How did you know?”
“Nicholas told Jane, who told me. When Jonathan and I reached the field and you were not there, he suggested here.” While she spoke, her eyes roved over every single inch of him. Nothing appeared out of place or torn like he had been shot or stabbed. A small part of her released a portion of the tension in her body, but her mind would not allow the rest to become complacent yet. Had he shot James? He could be tried for murder and hanged if he had.
“Before you say anything, I did not wound James. I would prefer, however, to return to Netherfield before we speak further.”
She nodded and waited for him to mount his horse. Nicholas stepped from the building, his eyes widening when he noticed her, yet he simply walked towards his own horse. When they were all ready to depart, they rode for straight Netherfield.
Every hoofbeat that passed on their return only saw more and more of Elizabeth’s restlessness return. How could Fitzwilliam have put himself in such jeopardy? No matter the danger to her, she would never want him in harm’s way.
She gripped the leather in her hands tighter and tighter as they grew closer and closer. By the time she dismounted at the stables, she could barely keep herself from trembling violently. Fitzwilliam approached and held out his arm, but she gave him her best withering glare and walked from the stables to a path through a grove of cherry trees. She had roamed this way often since living at Netherfield.
The orchard was currently in bloom, their soft blush petals in puffs that rained pink droplets when the breeze rustled the branches. Normally, she would lift her face and feel the wind while thrilling in the falling bits of colour, but today, she strode straight through to the stream on the other side, crossing where rocks emerged from the water to form a sort of bridge.
“Lizzy! Pray, stop!” She came to a halt and squeezed her eyes shut. She was so angry with him. How was she not bursting from her skin?
It was the strangest thing. When Jane told her of the challenge, Elizabeth could think of nothing but reaching Fitzwilliam. She needed to know he was well, and if not, to be near him while he was treated for whatever injury he had incurred. At the sight of him hale and whole, she was relieved, yet as the minutes passed since, her relief turned to this shaking mess of nerves or some such affliction she had to rid herself of by walking. Riding would have worked too, but she would have required Jonathan to ride with her. Fitzwilliam would not have appreciated her venturing off with the footman when he had mentioned them talking.
“You are angry,” he said softly. He was not far behind her, but she kept her back to him. She would have to look at him eventually, but she needed to keep her wits about her. She could not do that while she gazed at his dear face.
“Why?” It was the most pressing question.
“Because you and Alexander would never have been safe.”
She inhaled deep gulps of air while she clenched and released her fists. “Did you kill him?”
“No,” he said. “He fired his pistol first, but it did not discharge correctly, instead the pistol exploded.”
“What?” Curiosity won out, and she whirled around on her heel. “How does a pistol explode?”
“When a flintlock pistol is fired, sparks fly from the muzzle and more out of a hole on the side. James insisted on firing his pistol ahead of time to ensure we gave him a properly functioning weapon. Once he discharged the pistol, Richard examined it and reloaded it immediately. Nicholas and I believe there must have been a spark remaining inside the chamber that escaped Richard’s notice. James mumbled and mumbled that he had never pulled the trigger, but the back of the pistol was gone as was the bullet. Splinters of wood and metal from the pistol had struck him in the face.”
“Will he recover?”
“He was alive when I left him, but infection is always a concern.”
She stared at him for a while, tracing every feature she feared might be lost to her. Yet he stood before her after embarking on one of the most foolhardy, idiotic . . . She stepped forward and started beating his chest with her fists. “You could have been killed or maimed like James! How could you? We finally have the chance to be together, and you do this?”
For a few moments, he allowed her to pummel him before he took her by the wrists and drew her into his arms, holding her tight against him. “Shhh, I am here. I am well.” He rocked back and forth, continuing to croon in her ear.
Her knees gave way and a sob tore from her throat. “I cannot lose you!” She gained control of her legs and pulled herself away. “Do you not understand? You were beside yourself when I gave birth to Alexander, which was a natural part of life. This was not natural or normal. You put yourself in danger when we could have hired someone to ensure James left the country or at least stayed away.”
She brushed away her tears with rough fingers. “When I realised the truth of my marriage to Thomas, I thought my life would be devoid of the love I had always dreamt of knowing. I simply cannot fathom that we meant so little to you that you ran off to get yourself killed at the first opportunity.”
He stepped forward, his hands grasping her face. “Do you not see? I could not rest easy until you and our son were safe from him. He would never leave us be until he either had Thomas’s estate or enough funds to satisfy him. I do not want to die when I have so much to live for, yet I would die to protect you—to protect Alexander.”
“You are the most infuriating man! I do not want you to die! I want you to live out your life with me instead. Not squander it away on some ridiculous field of honour.” Every last bit of her shook as though she were standing in the bitterest of cold weather. The cool mist of the morning had cleared and the sun shone brightly as it crossed the sky, warming the day.
“I would not consider it squandering my life,” he said, his voice low.
“If you had died, you would have left Nicholas to keep James at bay. What would that have accomplished? It was a risk you need not have taken.”
He took her hand, drawing her back into his arms. “I simply wanted you safe. Pray do not be angry with me. If I promise to never do it again, will you forgive me?”
“Can you not understand how terrified I was when Jane told me? How would you have felt if I had decided to run out and fight a duel with Miss Bingley over your honour?”
A deep laugh shook his chest. “I would not like the risk, though I would enjoy watching you defeat that lady. I think you could do so easily. I predict she would turn and run the moment you took aim.”
She hit his shoulder and attempted to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and kept her close.
“Lizzy, I love you beyond reason and at the risk of my own sanity.”
“Are you implying that I might drive you to Bedlam?” She arched that one eyebrow as her eyes rested upon his dear face.
“No, but ensuring your safety from fortune hunters as well as your mother’s nerves just might.”
She hit his arm again, and he flinched. “That hurt.”
“You deserve it.” This had to be the saddest argument ever. How would she ever stand her ground on anything if he wore her down as he had today?
“How was Alexander this morning?”
“Hungry and happy, though he missed his Papa.”
“Then accompany me back to Netherfield so I can play with him before he naps.” He took a step back, his hands sliding from her waist to her hands, tugging her towards him.
She did not fight him while he led her back to the house and up to their rooms. When he entered the adjoining room, Alexander sat on the floor chewing a wooden block. At the sound of the door, their son turned and a wide grin broke upon his face at the sight of them.
Elizabeth’s eyes burned and blurred with tears as Alexander dropped the block, crawled to Fitzwilliam, and li
fted his arms to be held. “Ba, ba!” he cried as he was lifted into his father’s embrace. When Alexander pointed back toward the blanket on the floor, Fitzwilliam kissed the side of the child’s head.
“Do you want to play some more?” He set Alexander’s feet on the carpet and helped him walk to where he played. Once he was settled, Lalande took their coats and hats so they could join their son on his blanket.
After a few moments, Fitzwilliam looked up from the stack of blocks he and Alexander had been making. “We should remain a few more weeks to be certain of James’s future, but once we know of his fate and return Georgiana and Kitty to school, what do you think of travelling to Pemberley?”
Those tears that had been threatening to fall finally forged warm trails down her cheeks. “I think it sounds absolutely perfect.”
Chapter 29
Fitzwilliam stretched his feet towards the foot of the bed and blinked, his eyes adjusting to that stream of light that filtered through the gaps in the draperies. A familiar humming and gulping made him roll over to Elizabeth, who sat against the headboard with Alexander nursing.
“Good morning,” she said with one side of her lips tugging upwards. “I did not realise travelling to London would tire you so.”
“Perhaps my exhaustion was due to my demanding wife, who kept me awake until the early hours of the morning.” His voice was deep and scratchy as it usually was first thing in the morning.
“I heard no complaints.” That one eyebrow arched, and he had to fight the impulse to drag her back down to the mattress and have his wicked way with her.
When he pulled himself to sit, Alexander let go of the nipple he had thus far been engrossed with and sat up in Elizabeth’s lap, a wide grin adorning his face. “Someone is happy this morning.”
“He is quite pleased with himself. Millie fed him a large bowl of pap, and he decided to follow it with a hearty helping of milk.”
Fitzwilliam held out his hands, making Alexander lean forward to reach his father. “Is Millie pleased to be back?”
“Very,” said Elizabeth as she closed her dressing gown. “She knew more was afoot than simply our benevolence to give her paid time to visit her mother. We spoke of it before I joined you last night, and she insisted she understood the necessity—that ensuring our safety was of the utmost importance.”
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