Darcy's Temptation (45 page)

Darcy swallowed back the hurt he felt; he did not know Elizabeth cared so about their child. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and began to pray, an earnest prayer for Elizabeth's safety and the life of their child.

“The blood flow slows,” Mrs. Reynolds said as she removed the latest bandage.“Hannah, I think I hear the men in the front foyer. Go see if it be Mr. Spencer at last.”

Hannah hurried from the room as Mr. Spencer entered. Seeing the bloody rags on the floor, the doctor expected a major wound, but closer inspection told him otherwise.“I will need to remove the bullet. Mr. Darcy, I need for you to hold down your wife's arms and keep her from moving. Mrs. Reynolds and Hannah, I need the same from you for Mrs. Darcy's legs.”

“The Mistress has not moved since the Master carried her in here,” Mrs. Reynolds shared her observation.

“Mrs. Darcy will move when I begin to cut the wound to remove the bullet,” Spencer assured them. “The mind cannot block out such pain completely.”

Spencer cleaned his tools and placed them where he could reach them. He positioned Darcy and the two ladies where he needed them. Spencer was correct; the moment he began to
cut close to the wound, Elizabeth began to fight them. Darcy laid his body across her to keep her from moving. “Help me, Fitzwilliam, please,” she cried, trying to push him away.

“I am helping, Elizabeth. Mr. Spencer must remove the bullet.” Darcy fought for a breath as she struggled against him.

“The baby!” she shrieked.

“A few more minutes,” Mr. Spencer encouraged them to hold Elizabeth still.

Darcy whispered close to her ear.“Please, Elizabeth.”

“Let me die, Fitzwilliam, let me die,” she moaned.

“No, Elizabeth,” he gasped.

“Let me die,” she yelled before collapsing back against the pillows.

“I have it,” the doctor said at last, and her “wardens” released their grips on her. “Hannah, clean the wound and dress it. Mr. Darcy, if you will step outside, I will check your wife for other wounds and for the baby.”

“I will be in the sitting room, Mr. Spencer.” Darcy looked about, feeling rather useless at the moment.

“Mrs. Reynolds, let us get Mrs. Darcy clean clothes as we check her wounds.” He set the older woman in action.

 

Darcy stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Georgiana rushed to his arms and even Kitty snuggled into his shoulder.“Elizabeth will be all right,” he assured them.

“The baby?” Kitty sobbed.

“I am not sure. The herd trampled her once Elizabeth was shot.”The images flashing in front of his eyes told Darcy Elizabeth could be in danger. He closed his eyes and stroked each girl's head to offer her comfort. “I saw her—but at first I thought it a dream,” Darcy stammered. “I saw her—saw Elizabeth and me in our father's lodge,” he told Georgiana.

“You took Elizabeth there right before you went to Hull; you said you wanted a private evening with your wife after all
the company we had at Pemberley during the Festive Season,” Georgiana retold the tale.

“What did you mean by
not again
?”

“You and Elizabeth fought about the tenant celebration.” Georgiana dropped her eyes and lowered her voice. “She ran out; later Hero returned to the house without her.You found Elizabeth on the backside of Briton Gorge.You took care of her yourself; you would let no one else in. Elizabeth protected the child when she fell. Your carrying her through the door reminded me of before.”

“I see,” Darcy said, and he did see as images of Elizabeth's fragile body lying across his bed mixed with the vision of holding her for the doctor a few minutes earlier.“Why do you two not wait in your sitting room, Georgiana? I will come to you when I have information from the doctor.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” Kitty said as she led Georgiana away.

 

Nearly a half hour later, Mr. Spencer joined Darcy in the sitting room. “Mrs. Darcy is lucky once again, Sir. I am ordering her to bed for a week, but I see no problems for her or for your child. Again, she protected the baby from harm; you married a phenomenal woman, Sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spencer.” Darcy knew not how to respond to the doctor's accolades.

“I gave Mrs. Darcy a weak dose of laudanum. It will ease her pain; she may not take too much, however, because of the child.”

Darcy looked concerned.“I understand, Sir.”

“May I ask why Mrs. Darcy begged to die?” The doctor took Darcy by surprise with his directness.

“We have been at odds of late,” Darcy confessed. “Other than that, I know not Mrs. Darcy's reason.”

“I ask because your wife's mental state is as important as her physical recovery,” Spencer tried to explain his reasoning to Darcy.

“I will see to it, Mr. Spencer,” Darcy assured the man.“I will let nothing happen to Mrs. Darcy.”

“That is all I ask, Mr. Darcy. I will come to check on your wife tomorrow.”

 

Like Mr. Spencer, Darcy wondered why Elizabeth cried out to die. Did she hate him so much she no longer wanted to live—to live with him—to share his life—to bear his children? Did Elizabeth purposely put herself in harm's way? Mr. Spencer said she protected the child so that did not appear a possibility. Yet, why did she go to the lodge? Did she plan to meet someone there? Was she really looking for someone to come to her?

Could there be another man in Elizabeth's life? Would she find solace in someone else's arms? Mr. Howard? A tradesman? Mr. Harrison? Could that be the reason Elizabeth changed her mind about the man? They were closer in age than he and Elizabeth. She spoke of how much he meant to her when Darcy was missing; Elizabeth even portrayed Harrison to Darcy's tenants as a man in charge of Pemberley. Could she do so in the guise of presenting him with Georgiana? Darcy's thoughts ran rampant. Just as he allowed himself to care for Elizabeth, could he lose her to another man? Her request to die haunted him.

 

Elizabeth lay in the bed recovering from her wound and other injuries.The laudanum helped her to sleep, something she had not done fully since Darcy left for Hull, but it did not keep her from dreaming of him. He carried her lovingly to the safety of her bed; Darcy whispered endearments to her; he prayed for her recovery. Elizabeth enjoyed dreams of his coming to her—of her happiness.

For two days Kitty, Georgiana, Hannah, and Mrs. Reynolds took turns sitting with her. Mr. Spencer reported to Darcy each day regarding Elizabeth's progress, but he could not force
himself to return to Elizabeth's room. Late in the evening as Hannah slept close to tend her mistress, Darcy stood at the door watching his sleeping wife. He wanted her; he did not think he could survive Elizabeth's leaving him. For a reason he could not explain, Elizabeth fit his plan for Pemberley and for his life.

Mrs. Reynolds found him leaning against the doorframe. “Why do you not go to your wife, Master Fitzwilliam?” she whispered as she came up behind him.

Darcy spun around, ashamed at being caught watching Elizabeth. “I have other things to address,” he snapped as he started past his housekeeper.

“Master Fitzwilliam.” Her words stopped Darcy short. The woman helped raise him, especially after Darcy's mother became so ill.“What troubles you?”

Her words of concern nearly undid his resolve, but finally he answered,“I have no troubles, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Then explain to me, Mr. Darcy, how a man who once was so devoted to his wife he would risk his own life to save her could now not go to that same woman when she needs him?” Mrs. Reynolds looked him directly in the eye.

“I need not explain myself to you, Mrs. Reynolds.” Darcy gave her a look, which would scare most, but she knew that look really meant Darcy hid his feelings.

“Master Fitzwilliam,” she began slowly, “Mrs. Darcy is the best thing to happen to you. You were profoundly sad; you were lost until that woman came into your life.You have been given a great gift—a love to last the ages. Go to your wife, Mr. Darcy.”

“Do not tell me how to conduct my personal life, Mrs. Reynolds.” Darcy continued his resistance.

“Mr. Darcy, I was never ashamed to be a close member of your staff until now.” She reprimanded him in the tone she used on him in his youth.

“Mrs. Reynolds, you overstep your bounds,” he warned.

The housekeeper shook her head in disbelief. “So do you, Mr. Darcy.” Her voice held the sadness he felt. Mrs. Reynolds entered Elizabeth's room and closed the door to Darcy's presence.

 

He returned to his room and tried to rest. Could Mrs. Reynolds be right? Had he allowed his growing vulnerability to Elizabeth to turn into insane jealousy? Where did his loyalties lie? He was a
Darcy—
his ancestral name meant something in England.
Fitzwilliam
, his mother's name, came from a long line of nobility; it gave him a conscious awareness of his own social position.

He wanted to be able to turn to Elizabeth; he wanted to be rid of the sorrow he felt at losing both his parents; he wanted to make his parents proud; he wanted to make the right decisions for Georgiana. Darcy had Pemberley; he had respect; he had wealth, but he did not have contentment.

Brought up in opulence, he learned superiority at his father's knee; had he not been warned repeatedly of those who would flatter him to become an intimate? When he remembered his interactions with Elizabeth, Darcy saw himself as proud and leaden. Elizabeth accused him of not only arrogance but of conceit and disdain for others.

He often, of late, wondered how he would feel if someone spoke to Georgiana as he spoke to his wife. Even if he and Georgiana had no more than what Elizabeth had to offer, Darcy knew he would call the dastard out, and a duel would ensue. His place in the world was unthreatened until there was Elizabeth; now he had become more pensive and introspective—his life a quandary—he wanted to once more try to make Elizabeth a part of his life. He wanted to show her he changed, but first, he would need what his sister said; he would have to find value in himself; he would alter how he spoke to people and how he thought of people and how he treated
people. If he could do so without
glory
, but because it was the right action, then maybe he could someday present himself to Elizabeth again.

 

Unable to sleep, he made his way once more to Elizabeth's room. “I will stay, Hannah,” he told her maid. “Come back in the morning.”

“Yes, Sir.” Hannah made a quick curtsy. “It has been several hours since Mrs. Darcy had any medication for the pain. She may need it soon.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Darcy took the seat next to Elizabeth's bed. Without thinking about it, he took his wife's hand, subconsciously massaging her palm and wrist with his fingertips.

Within a few minutes, Elizabeth's eyelids fluttered open to find Darcy beside her. “Fitzwilliam,” her voice came out soft and breathy.

He moved to the edge of her bed, never releasing her hand. “May I get something for you?” he said while moving the hair away from her face.

Elizabeth smiled briefly. “No, I have everything I need at the moment.” She moved her hand to catch his with hers.

They remained as such, eyes locked onto each other. “Hannah says you are due for medication. May I prepare a dose of laudanum for you?”

Her eyes searched Darcy's features. “I would prefer not to take any more medication. I worry about it hurting our child.”

“That is very brave of you.” Darcy caressed her face.

Elizabeth tentatively asked, “Would you stay with me, my Husband?”

“If you so desire.” Darcy moved closer. “How does your leg feel?”

“It burns, and it feels so heavy.” Elizabeth struggled to compose her words. “I may not be able to sleep without the laudanum, but I want to try.”

“I hate laudanum. I understand. It makes me see things which do not exist.We may talk or just sit together, but I will not leave you tonight.”

His words made Elizabeth shiver with anticipation.“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. I missed just being with you.” With his help, Elizabeth moved up in the bed where she could address him.“I am sorry I have been such a bother to you.”

“I worried about you, but I would not term you to be a bother. If you are able, may we talk about something of our lives? I have images of some things which confuse me.” Darcy's voice contained a tenderness Elizabeth had not heard for some time.

“Certainly, Fitzwilliam, of what would you wish to speak?”

“Would you tell me about us? I mean, from the beginning—I need to know how we came to be.”

She swallowed hard, thinking where and how to begin; then Elizabeth tightened her hold on his hand. “We first met when you came to Netherfield Park with Mr. Bingley. At an assembly you criticized me as being
only tolerable
,” Elizabeth began. Nearly two hours later, exhausted, she told him of his leaving for Hull.

During this, Darcy seemed captivated by their interactions and how they came to a better understanding. Elizabeth told him what she knew of his transformation after his first proposal at Hunsford. Some anecdotes made him laugh; others shocked him. “We make a science of misconstruing each other,” Darcy offered.

“At times, it seems so,” Elizabeth chuckled lightly,“but once we came together, I like to think we completed one another. You once told Jane I was your other half.”

Moved by her words, Darcy leaned forward to kiss Elizabeth lightly, but quickly he deepened the kiss, and Elizabeth pulled him to her. “I did not come here for this.” Darcy's lips were only inches from hers.“Plus, you should rest.”