Page 48 of The Scarred Duchess
Jane stared out the window of the carriage, her thoughts on her suitor.I wonder what he is doing? Is he thinking of me?She put her hand to her heart, which had begun the flutters that always accompanied thoughts of John, and hoped she was not, again, turning pink.
She flinched, hearing a sudden, shocking blast, then gasped as something fell past her window. Was that the coachman? Another blast and she was thrown rearwards. Sally fell across her lap and screamed.
The carriage bounced hard, and her head hit its ceiling. Then the vehicle rocked back and forth, before tilting sharply. The door shattered and Sally was thrown out.
“Sally!” Jane screamed.Lord, help us!
Jane thrust her hands out to brace herself against the carriage wall. Suddenly glass shattered, and she felt a sharp pain in her cheek. Mercifully, everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bennet stepped across the hall from Elizabeth’s room into Jane’s, where Franny sat, staring helplessly. Their brave, headstrong, impertinent wonder of wonders had arrived home in hysterics. Her cries of anguish had shredded her voice; her remorse that changing carriages with Jane had led to her beloved sister being injured completely overwhelmed her senses. Mr Jones had been required to dose her with laudanum.
Elizabeth would eventually wake.Shewould recover.Shewould be well. Jane would not.
He gazed down at his eldest daughter. Her face now bore horrific wounds. Glass shards had torn through it—one from her temple and across her nose, the other from the side of her mouth to her chin. A ripped canvas, the furrows were long and deep—thankfully not rough or jagged about the edges like battleground wounds. That would have been more insult upon injury. The wounds would scab over and heal but never fully fade. Only time and constant care might mitigate some of the damage.
As a battlefield veteran, he realised her disfigurement was permanent. The apothecary feared infection, as the lacerations were not situated for sutures; Bennet would have refused him had he suggested such. No ham-fisted medico would ply his imperfect craft on his perfect daughter. Not while he had a breath in his body remaining!
He sat and lowered his right shoulder, allowing his wife to lay her head upon it. They remained in silence, refusing to accept that their diamond was now gruesomely flawed. Some hours later, Lambrook came to offer his condolences. “Bennet, what assistance may I offer?”
Bennet shook his head; he opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it as no words followed. Lambrook poured him a half-glass of port and joined him.
“I cannot know what you feel. I would be a fool to try.”
Bennet felt his jaw clench as he fought to keep his composure. Lambrook lowered his eyes to stare at his drink. Bennet appreciated his gesture. “You are a good friend.”
“I will move heaven and earth to restore your family’s tranquillity and ensure Miss Bennet’s health. What are your plans?”
“I have none. I find myself at sea.” Bennet exhaled. “News has travelled quickly. That fact alone bodes ill-tidings.”
“You may always count upon my support. We will protect your family from local society’s vitriol. I wish it were not so, but the Bennets are too prominent not to be envied by their neighbours.”
“Unfortunately, you are correct.”
Lambrook’s frown deepened. “I have written to John and cautioned him of Jane’s fragility. When he receives the letter, he will be devastated for her, but unwavering in his hopes.”
Bennet nodded his thanks, and Lambrook continued. “Gossip travels faster than disease. I suggest you prepare for the worst. ‘The envious man grows lean at the success of his neighbour’.”
“They taught Horace at Cambridge? How singular.”
Lambrook smiled at Bennet’s weak jest. “I do suggest you send an immediate express.”
“Yes, I shall dispatch a note to Derbyshire before dusk.”
“Do that. And send for Legget. I desire to speak to him.”
Darcy,
I am confident this letter finds you, your son, and your daughter in good health.
My eldest is past the immediate threat to her life; we, her family, will now minister to her injuries. My lady-wife is not to be trifled with, and with our experiences nursing with my ward, Bill Steele, I am confident in our abilities to care for Jane.
I worry for Elizabeth, however. She blames herself; her grief and perceived guilt has dampened her natural liveliness. I have accepted advice to engage her and her younger sisters with more masters. It will keep their thoughts focused on accomplishments and less on recriminations.
As for your offers of assistance, I thank you. You and Lambrook shall be the first I turn to should there be a need.
Bennet
