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Feeling helpless, Darcy turned frantically to the maid. “You there, fetch her a glass of wine, quickly!” Turning back to his aunt, he asked urgently, “Can I get you something else? Some broth perhaps?”

Lady Catherine shook her head very slightly, her breathing shallow. Her eyes drifted shut until the maid helped raise her head so that she could drink a few sips of wine. Catching the woman’s eye, Catherine murmured, “Thank you, Dawson.”

The maid had been with Lady Catherine since her mistresses’ marriage and, for just an instant, she touched the other woman’s hand with a look of infinite understanding and sympathy before retreating again to her proper place.

Lady Catherine shut her eyes for a moment to gather her strength but a most unusual sensation caused them to pop open again a moment later. Her nephew, that quiet boy who had grown into such a serious, self-contained gentleman, had taken the unprecedented step of taking her hand in his own.

“It’s that bad, then?” she asked gruffly.

Although Darcy abhorred deception, he found he could not tell his aunt what he suspected. Before he could compose anything encouraging, however, Lady Catherine read the truth in his eyes.

She sighed and closed her eyes for just a moment before speaking again; “ You will look after Anne, won’t you Fitzwilliam?”

“Of course, Aunt. You have my word,” he promised, repeating his reassurances in several different ways until his aunt’s eyes drifted shut. He attempted to rouse her but Dawson stopped him.

“Please, sir, allow her to rest. That was the longest she’s been clear-headed in days.”

Darcy nodded slightly and ceased his efforts, though he remained in the same position, holding his aunt’s hand, until Richard returned. Before his cousin could speak, Darcy waved him toward Lady Catherine’s private sitting room where they might converse without disturbing her.

Richard began his report as soon as the door was shut while Will moved to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of wine.

He took a large swallow before realizing that it was, in fact, a particularly sweet variety of sherry that he detested.

Shrugging to himself, he took another and then forced himself to attend to his cousin.

“I tossed Humphrey out on his ass,” reported the Brigadier General with a sort of vindictive pleasure, adding that he had also interrogated the housekeeper and butler before checking on Anne.

“Our cousin was still abed but her maid roused her long enough to speak with me. I’m afraid it is as we feared; she’s barely coherent and Jenkinson confirmed that the damn quack has been pouring some new elixir of poppy down her throat.

I have half a mind to go hunt the bastard down and kick him from here to next Sunday.

” Finally taking notice of the glass in his cousin’s hand, Richard demanded, “Is that any good?”

“No,” replied Darcy grimly, but poured a second glass anyway.

Richard took a small sip and grimaced but then drank it down swiftly.

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time more thoughtfully.

“I’m no surgeon, but I’ve seen wounds like that.

It needs to be opened up again and cleaned, at the very least. She’s so weak, though.

But then again, it might be a blessing for her to sleep through it. ”

Will stirred. “She woke up for a few minutes and was able to talk to me.”

“What did she say?”

Darcy moved to stand at the window, staring out at the dismal grey landscape beyond. “She asked me to look after Anne.” Suddenly he desperately wished for Elizabeth.

Turning back to his cousin, Darcy tried to focus on what needed to be done.

Although he had little hope, they could not simply sit and wait for his aunt to die; something must be attempted.

“I’ll write to my physician in London and ask him to come immediately…

and to bring the best surgeon he knows. However, even if I send it express within the hour, he won’t arrive before tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

“We could try sending to the next town, but I fear we would end up with someone just as bad as Humphrey, if not worse… though I’m not sure such a thing is possible.”

Darcy shut his eyes for a moment and tried to consider the situation dispassionately. “Regardless, I will write the letter to Dr. Tolmach if you will write to your father. The same rider can carry both.”

Richard nodded grimly, throwing back the last of the sherry. “Tell your man I recommend Captain John Ruckers, though I’m not sure if he’s in town just now. He was on the Peninsula with us and knows his way around these sorts of wounds.”

The two men worked in silence for a time.

Once Darcy had finished his task collected his cousin’s letter, he headed for the door, saying, “If you will sit with our aunt, I’ll get these sent.

After that, I’m going back to the parsonage—if anyone might know of a doctor or even a reasonably competent apothecary in the area, it will be Mrs. Collins. ”

Richard opened his mouth but then shut it and nodded, leaving the other man ignorant as to what he intended to say.

Elizabeth was hemming black armbands when her husband arrived at the parsonage.

She took one look at his grim visage and excused herself from her companions, taking his arm and drawing him out into the hall.

It took just a moment to collect her coat and gloves but when she returned, she found Mr. Darcy staring back into the parlor.

“Who are they?” he asked softly.

“Women from the village, mostly; some even came in from the countryside to help when they heard of Mr. Collins’ death.

” She sighed and tugged his arm until they began walking in the direction of the grove.

“They have a great deal of respect for Charlotte—she has done much good in this parish—and now they’ve come to do what they can to help in her time of need. ”

They walked quietly for a time, but eventually they reached a fence and, rather than climb the stile, Elizabeth turned and wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist. “How are you, Fitzwilliam?”

For just a moment, he buried his face in her hair and held her tightly. Finally he admitted, “She is dying, I fear.”

“Oh Will… I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged, disturbed by the feeling that he should have done more to protect his aunt.

The pair turned toward the garden and walked silently for a time until Darcy recalled his original task.

After telling Elizabeth of their attempt to summon a surgeon from London, he added, “But I thought that perhaps you or Mrs. Collins might know of someone in the area who might be of more immediate help?”

Lizzy nodded thoughtfully. “There are two apothecaries in Hunsford but to be honest, I would suggest you ask old Ruthie.” Observing Darcy’s doubtful look, she elaborated.

“Ruth Gibbons… she’s the local midwife an d herbalist. All of the villagers and servants go to her; from what I’ve heard, Dr. Humphrey is entirely supported by administering to the de Bourghs—no one else in the area trusts him. ”

Tthough skeptical, Mr. Darcy acceded to his wife’s suggestion and by the end of the afternoon, Mrs. Gibbons had been summoned to the great house at Rosings Park. She had not seen Lady Catherine since the day of the accident and was clearly horrified at how much worse the woman appeared.

After taking one look at the wound, Ruthie recommended that the stitches be cut open so that it could be cleaned and drained. However, Mr. Darcy was uncertain how far to trust her and they decided to wait until the next day to see if a real doctor arrived from London.

“I can make a poultice and try to draw out the infection,” offered Ruthie. “But I won’t lie to you, sirs; it looks very bad indeed.”

The gentlemen agreed and she quickly set about her business. Lady Catherine moaned when the hot poultice was applied, but thankfully she did not waken.

When twilight threatened, Elizabeth decided that it was time for her to leave the parsonage. Charlotte had tears in her eyes when she thanked her old friend, and Elizabeth promised to return the next day.

Not at all certain what sort of welcome she would receive, Mrs. Darcy lifted the knocker at Rosings Park just as the clocks were ringing their sixth bell.

The same, phlegmatic butler that Elizabeth remembered from her visit at Easter showed her into an empty drawing room and agreed to deliver Mrs. Gardiner’s letter Miss de Bourgh, as well as a message to Mr. Darcy.

Assuming that it might be some time until anyone came to find her, Lizzy settled in a chair by the lamp and retrieved her sewing.

She was surprised, therefore, when the servant returned almost immediately and indicated that Miss de Bourgh desired to see her.

In short order, Elizabeth found herself escorted to the lady’s private apartment where the heiress was sitting quite alone.

Though dressed, Miss de Bourgh was pale and lethargic, still suffering the effects of Dr. Humphrey’s laudanum.

She met her cousin’s new wife in the sitting room attached to her bedchamber and thanked her repeatedly for coming and bringing the note from Mrs. Gardiner.

It was quickly apparent to Elizabeth that the young woman was overwhelmed and desperate for some female companionship.

A quiet word to the maid brought a simple meal for the pair to share and, with some gentle encouragement, Lizzy was able to draw the other lady into conversation.

In the hesitant tone of one unaccustomed to making requests, Miss de Bourgh asked, “Mrs. Darcy... do you think… I mean, would it be terribly improper of me…”

When she trailed off, the younger lady felt a wave of pity for this poor woman-child who had been cosseted nearly to the point of imbecility. Reaching out a hand, Mrs. Darcy appealed, “Please, call me Elizabeth. We are cousins now, after all.”