Page 23

SHOTS FIRED

F itzwilliam shook his head and made his way to his room. He noticed that Mark did not head to his room. Fitzwilliam was slightly surprised, but after the revelations of the day, nobody could blame Mark. Fitzwilliam wished that he dared to take his happiness in the same way that Darcy and Mark seemed to be doing so. In truth, Fitzwilliam was rather jealous of the ease at which Darcy had transitioned from a single bachelor to a married man. Frustrated, Fitzwilliam opened the door to his room only to find an irate Catherine standing with his letter from the army in her hand.

“What are you doing with that ?” Fitzwilliam snarled.

“I came looking for you and saw it lying on your dresser. Why have you not opened it?” Catherine demanded.

Fitzwilliam took a deep breath. “Because when I do, I will either have to put undue pressure on you or be discharged from the army in dishonour!” He admitted.

“What kind of pressure?” Catherine placed her hands on her hips.

Fitzwilliam collapsed on the bed and pulled her with him. Kissing her deeply, he wished that he did not have to do what he was about to do. “Kitty, when I was summoned to London, it was not a pleasure trip. I used the time to ask for permission to marry. That permission was granted rather unusually. You see, enough is known of Fitz and my pretending to be each other that when Colonel Forster was trying to cause problems for me, there was plenty of rumour and innuendo going around about my cousin and your sister and you and me. Not to mention my unbecoming fight with Wickham. I was given a hefty taste of the lash for the fight alone.”

Catherine gasped and traced the livid scars that wound from his left ear down below his cravat and shirt. “You poor man. Do they still hurt?” She asked.

Fitzwilliam looked at her in shock. “You are asking about my wounds when there is so much more to this story?”

Catherine nodded. “Your insistence on proposing to me even when I did not want to listen is beginning to make a lot more sense. However, continue your story.”

Fitzwilliam took a deep breath. “I already knew that I wanted to marry you before I left for London, but unlike Darcy, I did not have the courage. I may be the son of an earl, but I do not have an earl’s income. Though I have a small estate, I do not draw any of the funds from it. I live entirely off my officer’s pay, which is not much. I can afford to marry, but I cannot give you a full society life. We won’t be able to afford Almack’s tickets and would not wish to go, anyway. The society that attends Almack’s is rather restricted and unvarying. I am a soldier through and through. I did not truly retire to look after Georgiana, but am on half-pay at the moment. I confess that I am rather bored living life outside of the army. I am not suited to it. Alas, however, if you do not wish to marry me then I am condemned to be an old retired soldier who was dismissed from the army in rather ignoble circumstances. Should you agree to be my bride then I can return to active duty at any time!” He traced her face. “You, my dear, have the deciding vote. Am I to return to active duty at some point or am I to be condemned to be a retired soldier struggling to find his place in the world?” He took a deep breath and continued. “When you hesitated to say yes before, I wrote to Horse Guards to request an extension on the time frame as to when my fate would be decided. I could not abide putting this kind of pressure on you.”

“It is no pressure!” Catherine angrily retorted. “How dare you have kept this from me until now? You are asking me nothing more than to give you both your and my heart’s desire and if that will give you the chance to return to active duty, then let’s get married tomorrow! I would not have had you bear that alone. You should have told me!”

Fitzwilliam grinned ruefully. “I did not wish for you to feel that you had to make that decision. I returned to find you in turmoil over the situation with your father. I wanted to support you. At the same time, I wanted to lay my fate in your hands.”

Catherine shook her head. “Tell me, what other conditions are there for you to be reinstated as a colonel in good standing?”

Fitzwilliam explained things in detail and explained that most of the conditions he had already fulfilled.

When he finished, Catherine again assured him that she wanted to marry him. Together they broke the seal on the letter from Fitzwilliam’s commanding officer and read the letter.

Catherine shook her head. “Do not say that you are putting pressure on me. I have made my own decision. We are getting married! No arguments.”

“You have none from me!” Fitzwilliam declared. “I will speak to the vicar tomorrow. I don’t see either Mark or Fitz objecting. The only issue we might have is your father. I can hardly ask his permission.”

Catherine frowned. “Papa has disowned us, so I doubt he would object.”

Fitzwilliam laughed. “I will still try and get his permission tomorrow.”

“I don’t know why,” Catherine objected.

“He at least needs to know our plans,” Fitzwilliam insisted.

Catherine shrugged. “Very well, but with or without his blessing we marry!”

Fitzwilliam leant in and kissed her again. “If you don’t leave now, I won’t be responsible for what happens,” he warned her.

Catherine giggled. “We are to be married. Surely, it won’t matter if I stay the night.”

Fitzwilliam rolled away from her. “Kitty, that was not helpful,” he groaned. “I’m trying to be honourable. Lord knows I’ve not got the best record on that score.”

Cathrine placed her hand on his shoulder. “If you wish me to leave, I will. I do not wish to go. If we anticipate our wedding vows, I trust you to be honourable enough to keep your word and to marry me.”

“I do not wish you to leave! I only wish we were already married,” Fitzwilliam admitted. “However, you should go. I should not dishonour you by being impatient.”

“Do I not get a say? Am I not just as impatient as you?” Catherine exclaimed.

Fitzwilliam did not give her a chance to say anything else as he rolled back and kissed her fiercely. “Remember you asked for this,” he huskily told her as he began to explore her body.

Catherine passed the night in Fitzwilliam’s room, sleeping fitfully as she worried over the health of her mother and sister.

* * *

E lizabeth woke the following morning to a maid shaking her awake. Darcy’s side of the bed was already cold and the sun was high in the sky.

“I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am. Mr Darcy gave orders that you were only to be disturbed in the event of an emergency. Your mother is asking for you. Mr Bennet and your other sisters are already by your mother’s bedside,” the maid said.

“Oh Lord! When did my father gain entrance?” Elizabeth gasped.

“Your father isn’t here, ma’am,” the maid assured her. “It’s your brother who’s with her.”

Elizabeth shook her head. For that brief moment, she had forgotten that her brother had been forced to live as Mary Bennet for many years. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.” Elizabeth dismissed the maid and hurriedly dressed before going through to her mother’s room.

Entering the room, Elizabeth could not have been more aggravated. Mrs Bennet had insisted on sitting up in bed and was now holding court amongst her daughters as though she was a queen, basking in the attention. “What was I disturbed for?” Elizabeth grumbled.

“There you are, Lizzy,” Mrs Bennet began as her married daughter entered the room. “I have been thinking. I know that I cannot return to your father, so it is time for me to consider how to aid Jane. I truly believe that your father intended to kill all of you eventually. I believe he was putting poison in Jane’s food. I think that Hill will help us to bring him to justice. The Hills are very fond of all of you girls.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “We cannot involve the Hills or anyone else in this. We have no proof that Jane’s food was being poisoned nor do we have proof of what he was doing to any of us. We are going to have to be careful if we wish to expose him.”

Mrs Bennet waved her hand dismissively. “I am sure that we will get the proof.”

“And until we do, we can do nothing,” Elizabeth emphatically stated. “If we move too early it will ruin everyone involved.”

The sound of hooves on the gravel outside drew their attention. Elizabeth and Kitty rushed to the window and were surprised to see Fitzwilliam and Darcy accompanied by Wickham and the sheriff. Worried, Elizabeth and Catherine turned from the window and rushed down the stairs.

Their worry proved to be justified. Hidden by the burgundy of his jacket, Fitzwilliam had sustained a nasty wound to his side. Half delirious with pain and loss of blood Fitzwilliam dismounted his horse, but staggered as he tried to stand. Darcy and Wickham both hurriedly jumped from their horses and rushed to Fitzwilliam’s aid, half carrying him into the house and up the stairs to his room.

“What happened?” Catherine yelled in panic, following the gentlemen up the stairs.

“Your father!” Darcy grunted, angrily. “Fitzwilliam decided to call into Longbourn after we visited the church. He was determined to ask Mr Bennet for your hand despite everything. Mr Bennet shot at us from his study window. No questions, no polite greetings. We immediately left Longbourn, realising the futility of our errand and rode straight for the sheriff where we lodged a formal complaint. How Fitzwilliam remained in the saddle, I do not know! At least one bullet hit him!”

“Years of cavalry training,” Fitzwilliam grunted. “We live and die in the saddle. Have someone check my horse, I think she was hit.”

“I will do that once we get you settled,” Darcy promised.

“You will not !” Elizabeth snapped. “You have been hurt as well.”

Darcy shook his head in denial. “I am well, Elizabeth. I promise.”

Once they had laid Fitzwilliam on his bed, Elizabeth gently took Darcy’s right hand in her hands, causing him to wince in pain. “See, I knew from the way you were holding this hand that you were hurt.”

Darcy shook his head. “I did not notice it. It didn’t hurt.”

The gentlemen helped Fitzwilliam change and once that was done, Catherine began tending to his wounds. Frowning she asked for him to roll on his side, his back was clean. There was no exit wound. Bringing him back to lying on his back her worry increased. The wound was far from superficial. He needed a surgeon’s skills. The sheriff took note of the wounds and the gentlemen’s accounts of what happened were taken and recorded. Mr Jones was called for and for a short while, chaos reigned in the house. However, the chaos changed into a muted order.

Mr Jones’s arrival was greeted with relief and apprehension. With two occupants in the house already sick and lain up, it seemed incredible that there should be a third, let alone a fourth person in need of his services. However, the severity of Fitzwilliam’s wounds was such that the apothecary immediately set about operating on Fitzwilliam to remove the bullet. It was a long procedure. Mark, Wickham, Bingley, the colonel’s batman, and Darcy’s valet were required to hold Fitzwilliam down as the apothecary worked. Darcy watched anxiously and struggled to aid where he could, however, he was beginning to feel the pain of the injury that he had sustained and therefore felt weaker than he ought.

“Mr Bennet has succeeded where Napoleon’s men failed!” Fitzwilliam joked through the agonising surgery.

Mr Jones scowled at the young man’s levity. “You are a lucky man!” He said as he began to close the wound. “However, you are not yet clear. You are going to have to rest and look after yourself and your wounds right now.”

“I’ll make sure he rests,” Catherine declared.

Fitzwilliam groaned. “I’ll be well. I have never been one to sit around. Especially, while I was in the army.”

Mr Jones glared at him. “You are not in the army now.”

“Clearly!” Fitzwilliam bitingly retorted.

Catherine laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know you will be well. However, please rest. You will want to be well for our wedding.”

Fitzwilliam grinned ruefully, “That’s why I’m in the situation I am! Your father would not even let me get near the house.”

Catherine laid her fingers across his lips. “Hush, we can discuss that later.”

Mr Jones finished up and stood back. “You have done well, gentlemen. My patient requires rest. Should he develop any fever then send for me directly. I will check on my other two patients in this house while I am here, if I may.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “My husband also needs your attention, Mr Jones. Would you mind checking him for injuries? I know his right hand is injured. I’m not sure if he has any others.”

“Elizabeth, I am well. Mr Jones doesn’t need to waste his time….” Darcy collapsed on the floor.

Mr Jones tutted while Mark, Bingley, Wickham and Darcy’s valet helped pick Darcy up and get him to his and Elizabeth’s room.

Darcy’s valet and Elizabeth worked together to undress Darcy and find the injury. Elizabeth gasped when she saw the wounds.

“Was Mr Darcy riding to the left or the right of Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Mr Jones demanded.

“To his right, I believe,” Wickham answered.

Mr Jones nodded. “Thank you. Mrs Darcy, your husband has a good chance of recovery. I believe that there is no musket ball inside your husband. I think it went straight through and it is that which I pulled out of his cousin.”

Tears flowed down Elizabeth’s face as she saw her husband’s pale face on the pillow. There were no more words to say so she simply sat in the chair next to their bed and held his hand, while the surgeon worked. “Stay with me, Fitz. I love you, I cannot live without you.”

“I hardly know if I should tell you this right now, Mrs Darcy. However, there is more. Your father is spreading lies about your sister Mary. He is claiming that she is pretending to be a man,” Wickham stated.

Elizabeth turned her tear-stained face to Wickham. “My sister Mary was never my sister! She is my brother. My mother had to hide his identity from my father, who would have killed him if he had known that he had a son! My plainest sister turned out to be the brother I had always wanted.”

“I do not understand.” Wickham looked blankly between Elizabeth, Mark and Bingley.

Elizabeth sighed. “You were nearly my brother. My father is a cruel man who treats us all as though we are silly and ignorant. He takes the fact that he owns his wife and daughters to an extreme. My mother has suffered cruelly by his hands – as have all of my sisters and I. My mother thinks that he has poisoned Jane. My mother lies in bed recovering from horrible injuries inflicted by my father and now my husband and his cousin are added to the growing list of my father’s victims.”

Wickham’s face turned to flint. “Why did Lydia not tell me this?”

“Most of it we did not know at the time of your planned wedding to Lydia,” Elizabeth hoarsely whispered.

Wickham turned on his heel and strode from the room without another word.

Mr Jones finished tending to Darcy’s wounds in silence. Once he was finished, he turned to Elizabeth. “Make sure your husband gets plenty of rest. I have tended his hand and sides as best I can. His condition is in the hands of God now.”

Elizabeth glared angrily at the surgeon. “You are giving up on him? I cannot do that!”

“No, Mrs Darcy, I am not giving up on him. His wounds are extensive and serious. Medicine can only do so much. I will continue to treat him and to keep an eye on his condition. However, what I meant in that regard is that it is in the hands of God as to how he fares. It would be cruel if I gave you false hope. If he and the colonel have any family, it might be wise for you to write to them.”

“I will write to the family,” she acquiesced. “But he is not going to die!”

“I cannot promise that, Mrs Darcy,” Mr Jones warned her. The apothecary took his leave. Leaving the devastated Elizabeth behind to tend to her husband.

“Don’t you die on me, Fitzwilliam Darcy! We have had far too little time together!” Elizabeth fiercely told him.

However, Darcy lay senseless on the bed.