Particular Intentions

by L. L. Diamond

  Fitzwilliam turned and followed her line of sight as the man quickened his pace and advanced. His arm bearing the blade swung back as a scream rent the air or was it several piercing shrieks? Chaos ensued as her back scraped painfully against the stone of the building she was propelled against and the side of her head smarted where it struck the wall. Her vision blurred as Fitzwilliam’s body pressed flush to hers. She put a hand to her head, but her knees collapsed as everything went dark.

  “Elizabeth!”

  Chapter 25

  “Fitzwilliam?”

  By the croaky sound of her voice, Elizabeth needed to clear her throat. London air was notoriously foul, and she had been exposed for too long today.

  He watched his aunt and Richard’s amusing interaction. “Yes, my love?” As soon as a pause in the conversation gave him an opportunity, he would propose they return to Darcy House.

  When she did not respond, he turned. Elizabeth’s wide eyes, panting breaths, and ever increasing grip upon his arm made him follow her line of sight to a blade held back, ready to swing.

  “Richard!”

  His cousin whirled around as Aunt Charlotte and Anne screamed, followed a second later by Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth’s hand was at the base of her neck, but she was frozen in place. Darcy grabbed her and propelled them both against the wall of the nearby building. Elizabeth gave a short, high-pitched gasp when she hit the stone. Had the wind been knocked out of her when she hit the wall? Was she hurt?

  A searing pain tore through his shoulder. Grunting and scuffling came from behind him. The men began to yell. Feminine screeches came from too far away to be from one of their party but pierced his eardrums.

  Spots appeared before his eyes, and he blinked hard. He had to remain alert and rational! Regardless of what happened behind him, Elizabeth must remain safe!

  “Get the carriage!”

  “Follow them! Ensure the colonel catches him!”

  “Stay with Mr. Darcy!”

  Without warning, Elizabeth sagged and relinquished her grip on his arm. “Elizabeth!” He wrapped her in a tight embrace, his heart pounding. Had she fainted? As he prevented her from crumpling to the pavement, he pressed a kiss to her temple. The faint sound of her even breaths reached his ears, and he leaned his forehead against the cold stone. Thank God!

  “Sir!”

  Oliver Morely, who had been one of several men Darcy had transported to London when the threat was first perceived, stood just over his shoulder.

  “Sir, the carriage should be here soon. One of the men went to fetch it and alert the house servants to send for the doctor. Colonel Fitzwilliam took off after the hector. Ran like the coward he is, that one.”

  Mrs. Gardiner’s harried and tear-streaked face appeared beside Morely. “Mr. Darcy? Is Lizzy well?” Her voice was frantic; she had been crying.

  With the danger presumably gone, Darcy bent and lifted Elizabeth into his arms, turning so Mrs. Gardiner could see her niece with her own eyes. She ran her hands over Elizabeth’s face, down her arms and skirt, and along the portions of her back that could be reached.

  “She does not appear to have suffered an injury.”

  Aunt Charlotte approached and brushed the curls from Elizabeth’s face. “Could be she fainted from the shock?”

  “I thought she struck her head against the wall,” offered Anne. “We may find a bump when we return to Darcy House and let down her hair.”

  Morely held out his arm as the carriage approached, ensuring they were all inside before he strode around to the back of the equipage and climbed aboard. The last of the men clambered atop with the driver.

  Darcy sat with Elizabeth clutched to his chest and gazed down at her beloved face. He had acted with such haste to press her against the wall and protect her with his own body, but had he pushed her with too much force? How could he forgive himself if he caused her any harm?

  His heart ached as he stroked the soft skin of her cheek with his knuckles. “Elizabeth, please open your eyes.”

  As his aunt entered, Mrs. Gardiner pulled the shades on their side of the carriage. “We do not need all and sundry to witness Lizzy in your lap.”

  He stiffened. “We have no room to lay her upon the seat, and she would fall on her face should we attempt to have her sit. What else would you have me do?”

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy, do not speak to Marianne in such a manner! Our predicament has attracted a crowd, if you had not noticed. Regardless of whether Lizzy can walk or sit on her own at the moment, you must admit that gossip is best avoided. We shall have enough talk from the attack without giving people more to spread. Do you not agree?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  A groan came from Elizabeth’s lips.

  “Elizabeth?”

  Her eyes fluttered open, she winced, and brought her hand to the back of her head. “What happened? I remember my head striking the wall and not much else.” She attempted to rise, but paused as her eyes met his. “Fitzwilliam, am I in your lap?”

  Anne grinned. “Yes, and in front of witnesses no less. My cousin has no shame, behaving so before your family and his own.”

  With a slap to her niece’s arm, Aunt Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. You could not sit on your own when we entered, and we are now approaching Darcy House. You may as well stay where you are.”

  “He was heading in our direction… with that knife. I have never seen one unfold as it did. How did he not harm one of us?”

  “My son managed to hit the vile beast, who ran when he noticed Richard and the other men surrounding him. Richard pursued him along with the men.” Lady Fitzwilliam looked down to a handkerchief clutched in her trembling hands. “I saw him before we turned to look in the window. He had just crossed the street and appeared to be watching the carriages and horses rather than us. How did everything go so wrong in such a short amount of time?”

  “He fooled us all, Aunt. My attention was drawn to your conversation with Richard. I did not know what was afoot until Elizabeth said my name—even then, I had to look at her to see there was trouble.”

  Mrs. Gardiner took his aunt’s hand. “We should be grateful his attack did not injure any of our party.”

  Elizabeth’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, her brows drew down, and she looked at his back.

  He gave an ever so slight shake of his head. “’Tis a scratch,” he whispered near her ear. Truth be told, it smarted terribly now they were safe, yet how could he have her fret when she had just had such a fright?

  “We shall call for a doctor when we return.” Her voice was soft, but he still glanced to their aunts and Anne, who were still discussing the attack. Could they hear what they were saying?

  “We shall, but to ensure you are well. I do not want to take any chances since you struck your head.”

  With her other hand, she took his face and turned it to her. “The wound could become infected. You must allow a doctor to see it, or I will postpone the wedding until you do.”

  He grinned. “People on the street witnessed me press my body against yours as well as my removal of you to the carriage where I placed you in my lap. Your uncle and father would never allow you to carry out your threat.”

  An amusing growl came from her throat. “You are insufferable!” She narrowed her eyes. “Very well!” She leaned up to his ear. “Then perhaps I shall be too exhausted for a proper wedding night. I would not want you to overexert yourself if your injury is too severe.”

  He gave a loud bark of a laugh, but composed himself when the aunts and his cousin sent curious stares in their direction. How he itched to squirm in his seat! “You would not dare.”

  She held his steady gaze as they stopped before Darcy House. “Of course I would, or I would not have threatened such a thing.” She cocked that infernal eyebrow and shifted to the seat beside him. “I am capable of walking. After all, my head was knocked against a wall. I have not lost the use of my legs.”

  Her aunt watched their interaction
and laid her hand upon Elizabeth’s arm. “Do not allow your stubbornness override your sense. I am certain Mr. Darcy is very worried.”

  “I am, Mrs. Gardiner, thank you.”

  His heart had dropped to his stomach when Elizabeth removed herself from his embrace. Could she be serious? The wound stung, but why could she not understand that he needed to ensure her safety first? She was more important than a mere flesh wound!

  He helped their aunts and Anne alight, and held out both hands in the event Elizabeth became light headed. She rose with care from the seat and held the frame of the door as she peered down upon him.

  “Please allow me to be of use.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded and accepted his aid. She fumbled a bit as she stepped to the pavement and walked into the house, yet it would not have been noticeable to passers-by.

  When they entered, Elizabeth swayed, and he steered her to a chair along the wall. “You should have allowed me to carry you.”

  “I am certain it is merely the stress of the day.”

  “Mr. Darcy, one of the men alerted us to your imminent arrival and departed again with haste to summon Mr. Baines in the event someone was injured. Rooms are being prepared for each member of your party to refresh themselves or to consult with the doctor when he arrives.”

  As Jobbins finished his speech, Aunt Charlotte strode around Darcy and pulled at the fabric of his great coat. “Take this off at once.”

  “Aunt!”

  “Do as I say, Fitzwilliam. If this is what caused the childish standoff between you and Elizabeth in the carriage, I stand with her on the matter.”

  “You do not know all.”

  “I can see your shirt and some blood through this rip. I do not require the entirety of your argument as I believe Elizabeth was insisting upon Mr. Baines treating your wound.”

  He groaned. “’Tis but a scratch.”

  Aunt Charlotte took the collar of his coat and began to pull it down his arms, forcing him to stand. Once she had removed the heavy wool piece, she began to shift the layers of fabric remaining as the flesh of his shoulder began to throb and sting.

  She gave a huff. “I need you to remove your topcoat and waistcoat if I am going to see the severity of the cut.”

  With an abrupt pivot, Darcy faced his aunt. “I will not disrobe in company, madam. When the doctor arrives, I shall allow him to treat my shoulder as he sees fit.”

  A giggle drew them all to look at Elizabeth, who had her hand over her mouth. As Darcy glanced around, Mrs. Gardiner and Anne were both suppressing their mirth as well.

  “May I ask what is so amusing?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled. “You sound like a boy refusing his porridge.”

  “Mutton,” interjected Anne. “Fitzwilliam has always detested mutton.” The ladies all burst into laughter.

  “Thank you for clarifying, Anne.” He spoke through his clenched teeth. Why did they insist on teasing him now? This was not the time for silliness!

  Anne smirked. “I am pleased I could be of help.”

  Darcy scooped Elizabeth into his arms and searched until he found Jobbins near the servant’s corridor. “Miss Bennet requires a bedchamber.” The butler proceeded up the stairs and down a corridor as they followed with their aunts and Anne close behind.

  “Fitzwilliam!”

  He ignored Aunt Charlotte’s call as Jobbins opened a set of double doors to reveal the mistress’ suite. A comforting fire was lit in the grate, though the room was not yet warm.

  “These chambers have already been prepared, sir. Phoebe will return with hot water as soon as it is available. Miss Bennet, please ring should you require a comfort we have failed to provide.”

  “Thank you, Jobbins.” Darcy set Elizabeth upon the bed and began to brush the curls from her face, but she stayed his hands.

  “Please do not be cross with Anne, your aunt, or even me. I daresay we need to laugh lest we all be nonsensical, which would do good for no one.”

  “Forgive me for making sport of you, cousin, but Elizabeth is correct. If I dwell on what occurred on Bond Street, I would sit before the fire, inconsolable.” Anne held out a quivering hand. “We may be safe within these walls, but I am still quite distressed.”

  He closed his eyes and took a few slow even breaths. Where was Richard? Why had neither he nor any of the men returned from their chase?

  “Until I know how or why, I cannot rest easy.”

  Aunt Charlotte walked around to the opposite side of the bed. “I would take Richard’s continued absence as a good sign that we shall know all soon enough. Had he lost the rogue, he would have returned directly, and if my son has caught him, he has three men to assist him.”

  “In the meantime,” said Aunt Gardiner, as she stepped forward, “we should take down Lizzy’s hair, so the doctor can look at her head. You should have your valet prepare you as well.”

  He stared at his hand joined with hers. How could he allow her to leave his sight? The near constant contact they had shared since the attack was what kept him grounded. How would he cope without her?

  “You will manage for an hour or so.” His head darted to his aunt who folded her arms in front of her and tilted her head. “Oh, do not look so shocked. Your forlorn countenance speaks volumes as to what is in your mind.”

  Ignoring the three amused women watching, he bestowed a kiss to Elizabeth’s temple and whispered, “I love you.”

  She squeezed his hand and pulled him a bit closer. “I shall miss you as well.”

  He cleared his throat, rose from where he knelt by the bed, and departed through the door to his chambers. He did not look back; he could not or he would return to Elizabeth’s side.

  When he entered, Clarke awaited him, holding his dressing gown. “Sir, water will arrive in a moment. Would you care to prepare for the arrival of the doctor?”

  He looked behind him to the door. Elizabeth would be furious if he did not allow Mr. Baines to examine his shoulder, so he dipped his chin in agreement. “Yes, and you will need to dispose of the ripped pieces since they are no longer of use.”

  “Cook’s young nephew is in need of some clothes as he has grown several inches and his father is again searching for work. Would you mind if I laundered the torn garments and gave them to her? Even with the damage, enough wool remains to make him some fine trousers.”

  “Yes, of course. I would prefer her make use of them than to sell them to the ragman. You may as well include the greatcoat I wore today as well.”

  Clarke was not rough, by any means, but Darcy hissed as the topcoat was removed. Why was his shoulder so painful all of a sudden? He handed the piece to Clarke and unbuttoned his waistcoat, again gritting his teeth as the valet pulled it from his shoulders. When he turned his back to the mirror, he gaped at the flush of red that soaked through the white lawn of his shirt.

  “You may be unable to salvage much from this.”

  Clarke pulled the tail from his trousers. “A good soak in cold water should remove it. If it is too stubborn a little lye should do the trick.”

  Darcy began to unbutton the fall of his trousers, which were damp along the back with what was certain to be blood. How had he not noticed the moisture before now?

  He followed Clarke into the room beside his dressing room where his bathtub was kept. No carpets adorned these floors; so any dripping of blood would be easily cleaned.

  The heated water stung when it made contact with the ripped flesh, but the pain was nothing to when, after a pop behind him, the pungent smell of brandy flooded the air. His teeth clamped shut as he squeezed his eyes tight. Blast! Even as a boy, he had never liked when Clarke tended his wounds, though the diligence was to be lauded since it had prevented his past injuries from festering.

  “They said in the kitchen that Mr. Baines has been fetched?”

  “Yes, why?”

  The valet began towelling his back. “Forgive me for speaking freely, sir, but Mr. Baines does not think so high o
f himself that he will not do stitches. He is a good choice.”

  “You believe I require them?”

  “The wound will never close on its own.”

  He wiped a few beads of sweat that had collected along his hairline. “Where did you put the brandy?”

  Clarke pressed the towel to Darcy’s back. “If you will allow me a few minutes, I shall fetch you a glass of good brandy. This is the cheap bottle we use for medicinal purposes. You do not want to drink it as it might rip a hole in your gut.”

  Once he donned an old pair of breeches, he sat before the fire in his bedchamber with a glass of his preferred brandy in hand while Clarke tended to the wound. Darcy sipped small amounts, until after a knock, Mr. Baines was escorted into the room. Upon seeing the old doctor’s face, he downed the remaining and held the glass aloft for his valet to refill.

  Once Darcy’s back was stitched, Mr. Baines departed to examine Elizabeth while Clarke helped Darcy to dress. A tedious task—especially after one drinks three glasses of brandy. Not that it dulled the pain. Well, maybe it did… no, it did not.

  As his valet left to retrieve a fresh waistcoat, the door leading to the corridor burst open and Richard rushed inside. “We have him! He is in the custody of the magistrate. I have questioned him, but he would not admit to much before he pretended to be mute. Two of Gardiner’s men remain at the gaol, keeping watch while I retrieve you. I think the one person he may confess all to is you.”

  “Me?” He steadied himself with the back of the nearest chair to stop from swaying. He was swaying, was he not?

  “Darce, are you pissed?”

  With the heel of his hand pressed to his forehead, he attempted to focus. “Mr. Baines just stitched my shoulder. I drank to dull the pain.”

  Richard jumped forward and pulled the back of Darcy’s shirt over his shoulder. “How deep?”

  “Deep enough that it would not have closed on its own,” stated Clarke when he returned. “I apologise, Mr. Darcy, but since you could not see the cut, I took the liberty of answering.”