Page 75 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship

He heaved a long breath. “They both had donned masks, yet I shall never forget the taller one’s hard, dark eyes. The pair wore brown coats and had black hair.”

No doubt the scoundrels had perpetrated many similar crimes. I ground my teeth. “We are perhaps five miles from Bedford. I shall take you there. You and your driver need medical care and must make a report with the magistrate.”

“Thank you, I am most grateful.”

“I am glad to be in a position to help.” I turned to the injured driver. “You may ride inside the coach.”

He bowed. “Thanks, sir, but I ain’t so bad off. I’ll sit with your driver.”

“Very well.” I let Hunter out of the coach to ensure he did not get in the way whilst Harry and I assisted Mr. Nicholson into the vehicle. Miss Nicholson entered next and sat with her father. I carried Hunter inside and placed him beside me on the seat opposite the Nicholsons; my ten-year-old dog could no longer jump up easily on his own.

Within a few minutes of our departure, Hunter went to the floor and sat at my feet, eyeing the Nicholsons. In time, he stretched his neck towards them, wagging his tail, sniffing at the gentleman’s boots and the lady’s skirt. Mr. Nicholson paid him no notice. Miss Nicholson, though, slid towards the window and held a rigid pose.

“Hunter, come here.” My dog turned back to me. I lifted him to the seat again and regarded Miss Nicholson. “I hope he did not make you uncomfortable. He is curious and enjoys meeting new people, but not everyone is fond of dogs.”

“In general, I do not favour them, but yours is an exception—few dogs are as handsome and well-behaved as this one.” She offered a full smile, which rendered her countenance more attractive. Nevertheless, I deemed her statement to be born of politesse rather than sincerity.

My sight veered to Mr. Nicholson. “Were you on your way home?”

“Yes, we spent the past few months in London. Last week, my wife and two sons returned to Bailey Manor, my estate in Leicestershire. I had business to complete, and Barbara chose to remain with me.” He patted his daughter’s arm. “I wish with all my heart you had gone with them and avoided this frightful experience.”

She shook her head. “No, Papa, I am well, and I should rather be here with you.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Mr. Nicholson lifted his hand to me. “And you, sir, what is your destination?”

“I am for Bedford and expect to remain for a few days at least.” It crossed my mind that Mr. Nicholson may lack funds. “In light of the circumstances, I should be happy to cover your expenses.”

“That is generous of you, and I appreciate the offer, but that will not be necessary. I have stayed in Bedford many times and have established credit with the local businesses.”

“I see.” I caught Miss Nicholson staring at me; she blushed and redirected her gaze towards her father. What had drawn her interest? My hand rose to my cravat to ensure the knot had not come loose.

In time, she regained her former poise and faced me anew. “Pray forgive me, Mr. Darcy, for gaping at you earlier. I have recalled why your name sounded familiar. I believe you have an estate in Derbyshire.”

“Yes, Pemberley.”

She beamed at me. “According to the newspapers, you recently discovered a distant cousin, a painter who shares your surname.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“I shall be the envy of my friends when they learn I have met the elusive Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy who is seen so rarely at Almack's or St. James’s.” Her head slanted to one side. “There is a general misconception that you are aloof and rude. I am glad to know the truth and shall inform my acquaintances of your amiable nature.”

An acrid taste filled my mouth. “In all honesty, in the past, I have often been far less cordial than I ought to have been. I placed little importance upon this shortcoming until I alienated someone whose opinion I valued. Since then, I have made changes to my behaviour.”

“It is not easy to admit one’s shortcomings.” She used a soft tone. “And it is still more difficult to correct them. Too few gentlemen of means manage to accomplish both.”

“In my case, I still struggle with politeness in certain situations, so this is far from afait accompli. And the laudable course would have been for me to avoid the necessity for this form of betterment.”

Mr. Nicholson shifted his legs and betrayed a subtle wince. “Have your lodging arrangements been set?”

“No, this is an impromptu trip. Do you have a recommendation?”

“Yes. The Bedford Rest is the finest hotel in the area.”

“I appreciate the information.”

Miss Nicholson moved nearer to the window. “We have entered the high street. The surgeon’s office is farther up on the left, and—” She gasped and gripped her father’s hand. “Papa, look there, in front of the tavern. It is one of the men who robbed us—the fiend who shot you! I recognise his pointy chin and his ill-fitting, brown coat. Do you see him?” She pointed to a man with unkempt, black hair beside a sorrel horse, placing an item in the saddlebag. “And that is Rusty with him!”

“By God, you are right!”

---