Page 36 of Leave Her Wild
While they bounced along the unpaved riding circle in the park, Darcy counted his own heartbeats while the captain’s fingers probed Darcy’s shoulder. The man was none too gentle, and Darcy could not disguise his moan of pain. “Come on, sir. Do not leave us now!” the captain ordered, and Darcy forced the darkness to retreat where he might view the countenance of the man leaning over him. Dark eyes. Nearly black. Dark brown hair on his head and the rough scratch of a beard on his cheeks. He resembled the Devil more than an angel meant to save him.
Within less than a handful of minutes, their party had circled the park to pull to the kerb before Darcy House. Darcy heard both Bingley and the captain barking orders, but all he could execute was to count his breaths. Soon his footmen had surrounded the gig. Bingley was expressing his gratitude andtelling the man if there was damage to the seat to send notice to the name on the card, and he would make the man whole. The two men who had assisted with the horses refused payment, as Darcy’s servants lifted him from the carriage to place him on what had to be an interior door, but from where it came, he did not know. Likely repairs would be required inside, but he was blessed for his staff’s concern.
They carried him into the house. He could hear Georgiana crying and begging him not to die, but all Darcy could do was to consider how he wished he had told Miss Elizabeth something of his affections.
“What has occurred?” Fitzwilliam demanded.
The surgeon directed Darcy’s footmen to carry him to his chambers. “Leave him on the board until I remove the bullet.” They balanced him as best they could carrying him up the stairs, but he could hear the captain identifying himself to his cousin and saying, “A man in regimentals fired at Mr. Darcy. That is the name, correct?”
Darcy could hear Georgiana gasp when Bingley said, “Wickham.”
With that, Darcy heard little else. He closed his eyes and set himself the task of surviving for Georgiana’s sake. He could not leave her alone in the world. Moreover, he would not give Wickham the satisfaction of killing him.
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Elizabeth had known happiness for her youngest sister’s sake, when Mr. Wickam rode into the circle before Longbourn Tuesday morning at about eleven on the clock—much later than any of them had expected, but he had arrived, nevertheless. Though Elizabeth had not relished the idea of hearing Lydia’s constant complaints, they would have been more tolerable than standing witness to her eldest sister marrying the man Elizabethaffected. In her private estimation, the idea was worse than anything Lydia had executed against the family.
Lydia scampered out the front door to rush into Mr. Wickham’s arms. The fact that the man frowned spoke to the lieutenant’s true lack of admiration for his wife. “I told them you would return,” Lydia declared.
“Of course, I returned,” the lieutenant said in apparent distraction, but Elizabeth could not ascertain the source of the man’s obvious urgency. “Are your things packed? Did you see to mine also?”
“Yes, George,” Lydia said obediently.
“Then let us fetch them,” he ordered. “We should be on our way. We might catch the noon coach from Meryton if we hurry.”
“What of the horse and our meal?” Lydia protested.
“I won the horse and saddle fair and square,” Wickham said too quickly to be believable. “Now, I can join those riding in maneuvers instead of marching behind them.”
“How shall we travel?” Lydia asked in confusion, but Elizabeth already knew the answer.
“I will ride beside the coach as an outrider. Protecting everyone,” Wickam declared. “We will only require one fare on our journey north.”
“You shall protect us all,” Lydia declared with a smile and a happy step as she rushed to do the lieutenant’s bidding. Meanwhile, Elizabeth imagined Wickham riding away at the first flicker of trouble on the road.
“I pray, Father Bennet, that you hold no objection to my feeding and watering the horse?”
“None whatsoever,” her father announced, but Elizabeth noted the slight smile marking her father’s lips before he presented her orders. “Elizabeth, dear, would you ask Cook to pack a bag for Mr. Wickham and another for Lydia? Something portable for their journey north.”
“Very kind, sir,” Wickham mumbled, but with no real enthusiasm.
“Mary,” Mr. Bennet instructed. “Please assist Lydia. She and Mr. Wickham do not wish to miss the noon coach. After all, ‘our dear Wickham’ must return to his duties in the north.”
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Darcy had drifted in and out of consciousness while the unknown surgeon had dug deeply into Darcy’s shoulder. Even with the large dose of laudanum they had poured down his throat, the pain was excruciating. He heard Fitzwilliam say, “Someone should go after Miss Bennet. She must be informed of what has occurred. The Bennet family was to depart Hertfordshire this afternoon.”
“I will go,” Bingley could be heard saying, but all Darcy could do was to knot the towel beneath his right hand into a tight ball to which to cling. He wanted to ask Bingley to bring Miss Elizabeth instead of Miss Bennet, but he could not form the words. He wished to extend his apologies to the woman and confess his undying, rather, perhaps he should say “dying,” loyalty. Even if he must marry Miss Bennet, he would see that Miss Elizabeth wished for nothing in her lifetime. He would even encourage Fitzwilliam to marry her. She deserved better than the life of spinsterhood.
The captain ordered Darcy’s footmen to hold him in place while he made another cut. As Jasper and Declan laid out across his chest and opposing shoulder, the surgeon cut deeper into Darcy’s chest. He had attempted not to scream, but it was an impossible task he had set before him. He heard Georgiana begging the captain not to hurt him and Mrs. Annesley’s voice encouraging his sister to come away, but there was no means for Darcy to assure either that he would not leave her, for the darkness was all too encompassing for him to fight it any longer.
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They had all brought their luggage downstairs, placing it in the front hall to await the carriage being brought around when an unknown coach entered the paddock.
“Who could that be?” Kitty asked as she rushed to the window to view the carriage. “I have never seen it before. Beautiful horses.”
“Maybe Mr. Darcy means to see us safely delivered to London or he sent an extra coach so we will not be so cramped in ours. Such a very considerate man,” Mrs. Bennet surmised. None of them had fully disclosed their plans to their mother.
