Page 107 of Ashes and Understanding
The pressure grew firmer, and suddenly she disappeared. The mist turned to smoke, and he could see the orange glow of flames licking through the trees.
“Darcy!” came the voice again—sharper now, deeper.
“Elizabeth!”
He gasped awake, the dream shattering into pieces as he sat bolt upright in bed. His eyes darted wildly, searching for her, for the forest—for any trace of the world he had just left behind.
“Elizabeth?” he repeated hoarsely, his breath coming in short, startled bursts as a familiar vise tightened around his lungs.
“Sadly no,” came a droll voice, “but I am flattered by the comparison.”
Darcy blinked hard, trying to shake off the fading embers of the dream. “Fitzwilliam? What are you doing in my chambers at in the middle of the night?”
“Clearly not having dreams as sweet as yours.”
Darcy groaned and rubbed his eyes, allowing his cousin to come into better focus. “What time is it?”
“Shortly past two.” The colonel was standing at his bedside, his features flickering in the light of the candle he held.
“That had better be the hour in the afternoon.”
“Tragically, it is not,” the colonel said, voice turning grim. “My batman woke me up—a message arrived from Longbourn not a quarter of an hour ago from Miss Elizabeth’s father. It is addressed to you.”
Darcy shot upright. “What happened? Is she—are they—?”
The colonel handed over a folded letter, its seal broken. “Read it yourself.”
Darcy unfolded the page and motioned for Fitzwilliam to bring the candle closer.
Mr. Darcy,
There has been an intruder in my home. The attack occurred in the nursery during the night. Elizabeth was able to protect the child, though the two women tending him were knocked unconscious.
When questioned, my daughter informed me that you would provide that information.
It appears you and your cousin, two unmarried gentlemen, have been encouraging her to keep things from me, which has put her life in danger.
As I have now had enough of secrets, I expect you both at Longbourn the moment it is light enough to ride.
—Thomas Bennet
P.S. Elizabeth asks me to inform you that a black crow’s feather was discovered in the cradle. I trust you will understand the significance of it.
Darcy read the postscript twice. His blood ran cold, and his grip tightened on the page. “Le Corbeau was in her house.” His voice was murderous.
“It appears so,” the colonel replied. “He sees to be getting desperate, which means time has run out for us.”
“She fought him,” he whispered. “She must have fought him off. Is she unharmed?”
“I am afraid I do not know any more about the situation than you do.”
Darcy stood, already reaching for his coat. “We need a plan. We cannot wait any longer.”
“I agree completely, but we cannot leave now—it would raise too many questions in the household. Besides, it would not be safe to ride over until there is a little light, at least. To go now would be foolish—not to mention the fact that you are still in your night shirt.”
“How can you jest at a time like this?” Throwing his coat down in frustration, Darcy sat back on his bed and glared at his cousin.
The colonel shrugged. “In my line of work, you end up forming a sort of gallows humor. It prevents you from descending into madness at the evil that exists in the world.”
