The Darcy Brothers

by Abigail Reynolds

“By all means turn this into a social event, Darcy,” said Mr. Cox from the doorway, “but I suggest you allow the young lady a chance to sleep and recover.”

  Darcy wanted to hold onto Elizabeth’s hand forever, but he gently unwound Elizabeth’s limp fingers from his own, rose, and tiptoed as quietly as he could from the chamber.

  He vaguely heard the doctor giving instructions to the frightened chambermaid, who was to sit up all night with Elizabeth.

  With a last look at Elizabeth’s brave form lying quietly in the bed, he closed the door behind him.

  CHAPTER 11

  Georgiana was waiting anxiously outside the bedchamber when Darcy emerged.

  “Is the bullet—?”

  “The bullet is extracted,” said Mr. Cox. “No need to fuss over a minor wound, young lady.”

  “I am very sorry I had to leave,” said Georgiana. “I am not very brave, am I?”

  “Most delicately bred young ladies cannot endure the sight of blood.”

  “I cannot say I agree,” said Anne. “I found the procedure fascinating. I think I should have liked to be a doctor.”

  “Ha!” said the doctor, “and I should have liked to fly. Now, Darcy, if you will show me the way out of this maze—”

  “I will do it,” interceded Fitzwilliam, cheerfully. “I am not sure Darcy can make his way anywhere at the moment. Anne, may I rely on you to ensure he has a stiff drink?”

  “Very well,” said Anne, “although I think what Darcy needs is something to eat. I am quite starving after all this exertion.”

  Darcy heard their words through a fog. Truth be told, he was feeling unsteady. Seeing Elizabeth in such a situation had shaken him to the core. He could still feel Elizabeth’s shoulder stiffen under his hand as the pain tore through her. He could feel her pain as his own.

  “Come on, Darcy,” said Anne. “We cannot stand around all evening. Let us convene in the dining room. I will have some food brought up.”

  Darcy agreed readily that they needed to leave. Their voices were very likely disturbing Elizabeth. She needed badly to rest after what she had endured.

  “I do not think I wish to have dinner,” said Georgiana. “I still feel rather queasy.”

  “You really are a bit of a ninny, Cousin,” said Anne. “You ought to toughen up.”

  As they made their way to the living room, Darcy balked. The last thing he wanted to do was eat, and he could not endure several of hours of idle chatter.

  “Have someone bring up some brandy to my bedchamber,” he said. “I wish to be alone.”

  *****

  A few sips later of brandy later, Darcy put down his snifter with a bang and rose to prowl his room. The peace he had sought eluded him completely.

  Alone with his thoughts, he could think of all kinds of complications arising from the wound. What if she developed an infection? What if she was starting a fever? He reassured himself that Mr. Cox would have issued instructions if he thought there might be complications.

  What was more important was to focus on the matter at hand, which was how to make Elizabeth agree to marry him. Even in this, he seemed unable to gather his thoughts together. All he could do was go over the whole disastrous proposal again and again in his mind. Now he could think of all the things he should have said. Now he could think of the right words. It was entirely useless, of course, because Elizabeth no longer required a proposal. She required logic and a strong argument to convince her he was the right person for her, and sadly, the more he thought about it, the less he felt he could convince her. If only he could persuade her that his feelings were strong enough to guarantee their happiness.

  But what of her happiness? With a frown, Darcy glanced over towards the writing table below one of the windows. Then, he fished in his pocket for the slip of paper Georgiana had thrust upon him at some point during this incredibly stressful day—the direction for Jane Bennet in London. Sitting at the table, he quickly grabbed the necessary items and penned a short note to Bingley before calling for a servant. There was no need to send it Express, but he wanted it taken to the post at first light the next day.

  The door closed on the footman as the hour struck ten, and Darcy accepted he could not remain in his bedchamber a moment longer. The doctor had ordered the chambermaid to sit up with Elizabeth through the night, but Darcy was too restless to stay away. He needed to know how she was faring. Besides, she did not know the maid. If she woke up, how would she feel to have a stranger looking down at her? Could he trust the maid to take care of her? What if she was in pain and needed more laudanum? Did the servant know what to do?

  He set out in search of Georgiana. He found her in the parlor, engrossed in a card game with Anne and Fitzwilliam.

  Thankfully, there was no sign of Lady Catherine.

  “Ah, there you are, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam. “Care to join us?”

  He could no more play a card game right now than dance a jig. He did not understand how they could be playing so callously when Elizabeth was suffering upstairs.

  “No thank you. In fact, I am afraid my presence will only interrupt your game. I have come to ask Georgiana to watch over Elizabeth with me.”

  Fitzwilliam frowned. “Surely there is no need for that? She will sleep through the night. Mr. Cox gave her a generous dose of laudanum.”

  Darcy glowered at his cousin. Really, Richard was completely heartless.

  “Nevertheless, there should be someone there, in case something unforeseen should arise.”

  “Well, Cousin,” said Anne, tossing down her cards, “you have quite ruined our game.”

  “Which is particularly aggravating,” said Richard, “as I must rejoin my regiment tomorrow. I will be leaving early, and who knows when we will all meet again?”

  Darcy did not register Richard’s words. His only concern at this moment was for Elizabeth.

  “I am sorry that you consider cards more important than a sick young lady,” he said, coldly.

  Georgiana put her cards down and jumped up. “I will be happy to stay up with you, Brother. It is the least I can do since I abandoned you at the crucial moment.”

  Dear Georgiana. At least someone here was concerned.

  “Thank you, little sister,” he said with a smile.

  “Wait here for me, William.” Georgiana hurried to the door. “I will just order us some tea to be brought up. It may be a long night.”

  *****

  Candlelight dispelled the darkness of the room. Elizabeth opened her eyes drowsily. Was it morning already?”

  “You,” said a voice. “What are you doing, sitting around like that? Do you not have other work to do?”

  There was no mistaking that voice. It was Lady Catherine. But what was Lady Catherine doing in her bedroom? Elizabeth dragged her heavy eyelids open. Oh, yes, now she remembered. She was at Rosings. She had been shot. Did Lady Catherine really want her to get up and work? If only she could think clearly! She struggled to sit up, but seemed quite incapable of doing so.

  A figure sitting close to the bed rose up and moved quickly away. Elizabeth sighed with relief. Lady Catherine was talking to the maid, then, not to her. Elizabeth wanted to protest that the doctor had ordered the maid to sit there, but she was too drowsy for the words to form.

  “There she is. Do your best for her, for I do not wish for her to use her injury as an excuse to remain in this house. The sooner she leaves Rosings Park, the better.”

  A short, rotund man bustled to her bedside and began to pull the bed curtains closed. “I shall do my very best, your Ladyship, and I dare say the young lady will be healthy in no time.”

  She was swimming in a sea of green velvet bed curtains, with only her injured shoulder outside. The sound of the bandages being snipped was followed by gentle pressure on the wound. Odd, it did not seem to hurt as much as it had earlier.

  “Oh, dear me,” said the gentleman. “This will not do. Whatever were they thinking to leave this ribbon here? How could she possibly heal with t
hat in the way?”

  “No doubt Darcy wanted to stop her from improving, just so he could spite me by keeping her here.”

  A sharp, painful tug on her wound made her flinch. She was so tired. Why could they not let her sleep?

  “It appears clean enough, but it will need something to bind the flesh together. A few ground spider webs are ideal for knitting flesh.”

  She tried to draw her scattered wits together. “What are you doing? The ribbon is supposed to remain there.” Not that she could remember why, just that it was important.

  “Hush, now. Your job is to rest and heal, and mine is to make it as easy for you as possible.” Whatever he was doing seemed to sting deep in her shoulder. “There we are. Now we must bring the skin together, yes, and just a little glue to hold it in place. You can see, Lady Catherine, it is practically healing itself already! You were quite right to call me. This young lady will owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Elizabeth seriously doubted that. He had made her shoulder ache more once again, and why would no one let her sleep? She hoped Mr. Darcy would not be cross that she had allowed the ribbon to be removed.

  “I will need to bleed her, of course. Perhaps your Ladyship would prefer to step outside while I do that.”

  “Nonsense. I am not troubled by the sight of blood.”

  No doubt Lady Catherine would be pleased if Elizabeth bled to death. The sharp sting of the lancet took her by surprise. The warm gush of blood over her arm made her stomach churn. Mr. Darcy would not be happy about this, either.

  “There, that is enough for now.” Something tight was wrapped around her arm, then the curtain was drawn back. “A few sips of this, and you will be as good as new.” He held a cup to her lips.

  She swallowed the bitter potion obediently. Maybe now they would let her sleep.

  *****

  By the time Darcy and Georgiana finally arrived in the bedchamber there was no sign of the chambermaid.

  Darcy quelled the surge of anger that rose up in him at the maid’s negligence. There might be a perfectly good explanation. Perhaps Elizabeth had awoken and requested something and the maid had gone to get it. He would wait before passing judgment.

  He examined Elizabeth’s beloved face closely, admiring the perfect arch of her dark eyelashes, the pert angle of her nose, the decided angle of her chin. He avoided looking at her lips. They were too tempting.

  “Perhaps it is a trick of the candlelight, but does she not look paler than she was earlier?” said Georgiana.

  Darcy was startled out of his perusal.

  He brought the candle closer to her face. Georgiana was right. There were dark shadows under her eyes and her lips had lost some of their lush coloring.

  Should he be alarmed, or was this merely the consequence of enduring the bullet extraction?

  “I agree. However, we must simply watch and wait. If anything changes, I will send for Mr. Cox again.”

  Though perhaps Mr. Cox was now halfway to London. Darcy should have insisted he stay the night at Rosings before setting out.

  The chambermaid did not return with a drink or anything else. Darcy made a mental note to seek her out the next day and make sure she understood the consequences of abandoning her post.

  Meanwhile, he settled in, trying not to interpret every twitch, every movement, every sound that Elizabeth made as a sign that she was taking a turn for the worse.

  “You should get some sleep, brother,” said Georgiana. “I will wake you up if something changes.”

  As if he could sleep!

  But as the clock ticked monotonously onwards and the house grew silent, Darcy found the fatigue of the day overcoming him, and he closed his eyes.

  A scream awoke Darcy from the light doze into which he had fallen. Elizabeth was sitting up in the bed, her eyes wide open, pointing into the corner of the room.

  “Take them away! I cannot bear the sight of them!”

  She began to tear at her bandages.

  “Hold her, quickly, Georgiana. We cannot allow her to undo the dressings.”

  Elizabeth fought against them. She was surprisingly strong.

  “Is she feverish?” said Georgiana, following the direction of Elizabeth’s frightened gaze. “I cannot see anything!”

  Darcy hesitated, then put his hand to her forehead. “No, there is no sign of heat.”

  Elizabeth pointed to the corner. “Tell them to go away. Why are they staring at me like that?”

  With difficulty, both Darcy and Georgiana eased her back against her pillows and her eyes soon closed. Frowning, Darcy looked about the room. He could see no sign of the medicine which had affected Theo in the same way, but surely this could not be down solely to the laudanum?

  *****

  Warm sunshine woke Darcy up. For a moment, as he shifted to ease the ache in his stiff back, he tried to remember why he was sleeping in a chair. Then everything came back to him.

  How could he have fallen asleep when he had promised to stand guard over Elizabeth?

  A panicked look at the bed revealed that Elizabeth was sleeping calmly. His heartbeat returned to normal as he watched her, lost to the world, resting innocently as if she did not have a care in the world. On the other side of the bed, Georgiana was dosing quietly, her blond curls disheveled around her face.

  His heart swelled as a feeling of sweet happiness rose up inside him. The two women he loved most in the world were beside him. What could possibly be better? He sat there for several minutes, content to let the joy settle around him like a warm blanket.

  Slowly his thoughts turned to the reality of his situation and the knowledge that, now the morning was here, he had to work out what to say to her. As he puzzled this over, an idea slowly began to form in his mind.

  There was really only one solution.

  As the sun fell upon Elizabeth’s face, Darcy leaned forward to draw the bed curtain against the light. Her eyelids fluttered open briefly and then closed again, and he froze, not wishing to awaken her. He was relieved to see her face was not as pale as it had been the night before, but she looked so small and frail, lying in the big bed, surrounded by pillows and covers.

  Then, Elizabeth’s eyes opened again, and she gave a small smile as she caught him leaning over her.

  “I see you are still here.”

  “It is morning. You slept through the night.” He tried to rein in his suspicion over the medicine. She seemed perfectly rational.

  Taking her hand, he held it tenderly. “Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

  “I would nod my head but any movement at all and the room begins to spin.” Her eyes drifted shut.

  “That must be the laudanum.”

  “I am not certain which hurts the most—my head or my shoulder. But I am better than a few hours ago. I had some strange dreams. I feel as though I was in battle for hours.” She frowned suddenly.

  “How long have you been here?”

  He looked away, embarrassed. “Not long enough. I am afraid my aunt seems to have found an opportunity to slip you some of Cousin Anne’s medicine.”

  “Well, that explains it. You can hardly be expected to stand guard over me,” she said, her eyelids sliding downward lazily.

  Darcy sighed. “I feel responsible somehow.”

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy, you take too much upon yourself. You are hardly to blame.”

  Georgiana, hearing voices, stirred and sat up. Seeing Elizabeth awake, she gave a quick smile, rose, and tiptoed quietly out of the room.

  He was silent. Her breathing evened out, seeming to indicate she was sleeping. If so, he could hardly talk to her about his idea.

  Without opening her eyes, she said, “I expect you will now try to convince me of the necessity of accepting your proposal.”

  Leave it to Elizabeth to get right to the heart of the matter. “We both know the situation requires that we marry,” he said. “I did not lock us in intentionally, no
r did I hatch a plot for someone else to do it.”

  “I never believed you did. I just do not like being backed into a corner with no options available to me save one,” she said.

  “I am sorry if you feel you are being forced into something.” He felt terrible about everything that had happened.

  Her eyes opened, her focus more clear than before. “I assure you, no one will force me to do anything.”

  He smiled. “Very well, but you must allow me to try to convince you.”

  “Why, Mr. Darcy, I believe you are as stubborn as I.”

  This sounded more like his Elizabeth. Perhaps now was a good time after all to share his plan. “This is quite a tangle we find ourselves in, but I have an idea which might prove acceptable to you if you feel up to hearing it.”

  He noticed her already dark eyes were even darker because her pupils were dilated. Was it just from being in the darkened room or from whatever medicine she had been given?

  “I am very tired, but I think I can listen for a little while,” she told him. “You might have to remind me later what I have agreed to. My head is a little foggy.”

  “I shall try to be brief. I propose we announce our engagement now, but set no wedding date. In two or three months, if I have not been able to persuade you to marry me, you may quietly break the engagement, and I will not protest. You may say we did not suit or make up some other excuse.” He put a hand to his chest. “Make it my fault entirely. Any gossip arising from what happened here will have died down by then, and your reputation will be untarnished.”

  She bit her lip as she appeared to consider his idea. If only she knew how unbearably endearing he found that little habit of hers. Uncomfortable with the silence, he continued anxiously, something that was uncharacteristic for him. “I do not expect you to love me, although I hope we might come to share a mutual regard. Sometimes, I am told, love grows from that.”

  “This is a very sorry state indeed—you do not expect me to love you? Why would you settle for that when you could have anyone? All those beauties in London! Any woman would be thrilled to receive your addresses. What about your cousin Anne or even Miss Bingley?”