Page 26 of Lord Lonbourn’s Daughter

Elizabeth must have fallen asleep with her cheek on his injured hand.

Mr Darcy groaned and tried to pull it away from under her head.

Elizabeth was wide awake within the blink of an eye, sitting bolt upright in her chair and examining his face.

He looked even worse than he had before she fell asleep.

He was tossing and turning his head while trying to turn towards her.

It occurred to her that it must have been painful for him to lie on his left side.

She should have moved him to his right. He calmed down quickly; it was to be hoped asleep rather than unconscious, but she had no way of knowing.

His eyes were moving under their lids, she could tell.

Since he had not yet become fully awake, she saw no need to call for the doctor.

“Elizabeth!” His voice jolted her up from her chair to lean over him. His voice was very weak, and she wondered whether it had been a figment of her imagination.

“I am here,” she whispered back.

“Elizabeth!”

“Fitzwilliam, I am here,” she consoled him a little more loudly.

“Elizabeth!” he bellowed. The doctor was back in the chamber within seconds. He must have been waiting in the adjoining sitting room.

“Doctor, do you think he may have lost his hearing?”

“He could have, but it is not a common occurrence with these types of injuries. It is more likely that he has not yet fully awakened, or he might have suffered a serious head injury. With the fall and the fight, his brain took a severe beating.”

“Fight? I assure you, Mr Darcy does not fight. He is a gentleman.”

“Of course, Lady Elizabeth. It is not like he has been brawling on the streets. He challenged Lord Hazard to a fight at Gentleman Jackson’s establishment. It is a very civilised form of entertainment.”

Elizabeth must have had a quizzical expression suffusing her countenance as the doctor continued his explanation.

“As I understand it, they made a wager in the betting book at White’s. The stake was a thousand guineas to the winner. Gentleman Jackson is a renowned pugilist. All fights at his establishment are bound by a set of rules and are conducted civilly.”

Elizabeth could not understand how hitting another human being could be done with civility.

“I met Lord Hazard when Mr Darcy arrived. He asserted that my husband owed him two thousand guineas.”

“Yes. As I understand it, he lost both the fight and the race.”

“Are you telling me that he fought and lost to Lord Hazard, then immediately followed this travesty with a horse race?” Elizabeth enquired incredulously.

“Yes, or so I was told. I was not there, but there were hundreds of witnesses.”

“A wise decision to refrain from watching such a spectacle, I am sure. It is a ridiculous pastime if you ask me, but who am I to judge? By what you have related, I am inclined to believe Mr Darcy lost his mind prior to his injuries,” Elizabeth managed to utter before her husband wrenched himself to the side and lost his stomach contents all over his wife and the floor.

She pulled the bell to summon someone to clean it up. She bathed his face as he lay back down on his pillow, wondering how a sensible man like her husband could be so utterly stupid.

Mr Darcy fell back to sleep once he was cleaned. The doctor gently persuaded her to retire for a bath, a rest, and most importantly, a change of attire. He promised to notify her if there was any change. Reluctantly, Elizabeth agreed.

If the doctor had thought that she would lie down when he mentioned retiring, he was sorely mistaken, though she did see the advantage in changing her gown. Half an hour later she was back in her husband’s room with a selection of books in her hand.

Colonel Fitzwilliam scowled at her when she entered, so she did not acknowledge him. She pulled the chair closer to the bed, opened a tome of Wordsworth’s poetry, and began to read aloud.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Elizabeth, but it is late. Doctor Scott and Grey will sit with Darcy through the night. You should get some rest.”

“He is my husband, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she replied quietly. “I cannot abandon him in his hour of need. Not until he is well enough to care for himself.”

“Very well. Then I shall retire to Matlock House and return in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“Richard. We are cousins now.”

“Yes, I suppose we are…Richard.”

The colonel bowed and left. Elizabeth opened her book and began reading in low soothing tones. He must surely have a headache whether he was unconscious or asleep. She thought it was the latter.

#

Richard did not return to Matlock House. A niggling thought that had been festering in the back of his mind had grown into a fully-fledged suspicion.

The neighbourhood he was seeking was not that far from his home—just a short detour.

He walked to the house in question. It was dark, either because the inhabitants had retired or they were not in town. The latter was the most obvious as its owners rarely bothered with the Season. Then he heard horses’ hoofs shuffling about in the mews. He might be fortunate after all.

A coffee house across the street was open and served spirits. A boisterous lot were celebrating the last of their Saturday wages.

For such a fine area, the customers were uncouth, the colonel thought as he ordered himself a coffee and sat down with a scruffy looking lot. He hoped they were tradesmen by day who may have information about the house across the road.

They welcomed him heartily when he treated them to a free round of what was commonly known as the blue ruin [6] , the best method to loosen tongues he had ever come across.

Hours later, and after several tumblers of the drink, they were bragging about escorting a fine wealthy young lady. The other two had been screaming banshees.

Another round of blue ruin and it was clear that the well-behaved lady and her companion had been delivered to the house opposite.

Richard contemplated storming the house and breaking the locks, but that would notify the perpetrator that he was coming. It was only an hour until dawn. He would stand a better chance if he did not have to fight off an army of footmen.

If Georgiana was in the same condition that Lady Kitty had been, he might have to carry her out of the house. He could send for help but was afraid of revealing his purpose to the men surrounding him. So much could go awry.

The coffee house closed at the same time as the public houses opened.

The men padded away to their next haunt while Richard bid them farewell, asserting his pockets were let, which made the men laugh boisterously at his expense.

He only shrugged and walked in the opposite direction until the men had entered the public house.

Only then did he turn back and hide in the shadows of the mews.

As he expected, a tired maid opened the door and emptied a bucket of stale water.

She did not lock it when she went back inside.

He had his opportunity and stealthily entered his aunt’s home.

The servants were busy in the cellar where the kitchen and scullery were situated. His aunt must be in residence. Her ruse about needing to stay at Matlock House for the wedding because her own home had not been aired out for months had been discovered.

The de Bourgh townhouse was a quaint little house. He knew where his aunt and cousin usually stayed and guessed easily in which of the two guestrooms it was most likely Georgiana was held captive. He made it unseen to the first floor; no footmen were about.

To his surprise, the door was not locked.

He entered and approached the bed. His relief was profound when he found Georgiana sleeping, or quite possibly doused with laudanum, under his aunt’s roof.

He gently prodded her to rouse her without scaring her witless, making her scream, or calling any attention to them in any other way.

She was a light sleeper and woke easily, too tired to question him about entering her bed chamber.

He made her promise to remain silent and not question him before they were back at Darcy House.

She pulled a day dress over her head and a cloak around herself to conceal the haphazardly donned gown.

Richard found a monstrous bonnet to cover her hair and face.

The only thing remaining was to get her out of there unseen.

He made a gamble and chose to leave via the front entrance since only the servants were awake.

Out on the street, he hired a hackney that had just delivered goods to a tradesman’s stall.

He dared not venture back to Matlock House as he knew not whom Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s accomplice might be.

He had nothing else on his mind but to take his cousin home to safety.