Page 19 of Mistress of Pemberley
“I cannot believe that such a thing is happening to us,” said the colonel as he set down his knife and fork. “I cannot eat!” he continued. “To see him lying there, propped up against the pillows… He used to pull me out of bed every morning.”
But neither of the ladies answered him, their silence engulfed in pain and unease.
“Tell me again why he must stay in bed, why he must remain like this, almost upright. What will his life become?” The uncertainty in the colonel’s voice echoed the fear that gripped them all.
Elizabeth and Georgiana struggled valiantly to maintain their composure. Still, in the storm the colonel had inadvertently unleashed, calm was hard to preserve.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth scolded, her voice steady yet stern, a clear attempt to restore some of the tranquillity that had reigned in the house before his arrival.
“I am sorry,” said the colonel, suddenly aware of his outburst. “I am desperate,” he confessed, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions.
“We all are,” Elizabeth replied, “but this will not help Fitzwilliam.”
“Why does he remain in bed?”
Elizabeth sighed heavily but resolved to answer, understanding that the colonel’s restlessness came from an immense fear of loss and the helplessness of being unable to intervene. They all felt powerless in the face of questions they could not answer.
“The physician believes the bullet has not left his body,” said Elizabeth.
“But that is absurd. If it remains within him, how is he still alive?” murmured the colonel.
“We do not know, and the physician is unwilling to take risks. If the bullet is still…there, and it has not struck anything vital, he fears it might shift.”
“And so, he has condemned him to sit upright and motionless? It is inhuman.”
“Richard!” Georgiana cried out. “We are doing everything we can to help him.”
“Until when?”
“Stop, please stop,” Elizabeth said with infinite sweetness, touching the colonel’s arm. “Please tell me what happened.”
The colonel began to speak, though it seemed he was no longer in the same room but reliving that dreadful evening when the calamity had occurred.
“We were returning from the club in my carriage, and we turned into Darcy’s street…” He stopped, staring blankly ahead. Elizabeth watched him with a heavy heart, for the serious expression on his face made him resemble Darcy greatly.
“The carriage halted twenty yards away from the house for him to step down. We could not stop directly in front because another vehicle was already stationed there. Darcy alighted but left his gloves behind, so I followed a few moments later in order to return them to him. That was when it happened, and the scoundrel who shot him virtually ran straight into my arms.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Elizabeth, hearing the story for the first time. It had been less than a day since her arrival in London, yet it felt as though months had passed.
“I began shouting, and my coachman arrived instantly to hold him down while I ran to Darcy. The door to the house opened, and his servants began to emerge. After they carried him inside and someone fetched the physician, I took the criminal to a magistrate.”
The colonel was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as though reliving those harrowing events.
“The scoundrel likely thought that the noise of the carriage would mask the gunshot, but he did not account for it not leaving the moment Darcy alighted.”
“Did you discover his identity?” Elizabeth asked.
Georgiana turned her head towards her cousin in surprise, clearly unaware of these details. The colonel had not told her any of those particulars. Their household and lives had been thrown into such terrible chaos that they were only just beginning to recover, and suddenly, Elizabeth’s role felt essential.
“A highwayman,” said the colonel, but something in his voice made Elizabeth scrutinise him closely. The officer was not adept at concealing his thoughts, and something was troubling him. If the criminal were already in custody, what could still be worrying him?
Elizabeth made sure to escort the colonel to the door herself. In the hall, glancing carefully about, she asked what had truly happened.
The colonel hesitated to respond, but at last, he motioned for her to follow him and opened the door to a room that turned out to be the library.
Elizabeth stopped at the threshold, struck by the beauty of the room and apprehensive about what she was about to learn. Contradictory emotions within her swirled in a maddening whirlwind, making her dizzy.
“What is it?” the colonel asked.
“Tomorrow or the day after, I shall marry the master of this house, and I have only seen three rooms of it.”
“Good heavens, what times we are living through,” sighed the colonel. “I have not even had the chance to congratulate you—either of you—but I am so glad you have made this decision. You are their salvation…ours, in fact.”
“Is there still any danger?” Elizabeth asked, attempting to steer the conversation back to what concerned her and to guide the colonel to a subject where he held firmer ground.
“No,” the colonel replied, though the hesitation in his voice made her scrutinise him carefully.
“You do not seem convinced,” Elizabeth said. “If there is any danger, we should know.”
“I have stationed two soldiers outside your house day and night…to ensure there is no danger for you. But there is something else. The scoundrel who shot Darcy is a deserter. He fled from the front in France. That is how I discovered ships bringing deserters for a certain price. I have already informed those responsible for this. He and a few companions hid in London for a time, but when some were captured, the rest sought refuge…and here comes the strange part…in the woods of Hertfordshire.” The colonel was obviously hesitant to speak of such matters that could give rise to terrible suspicions, and neither of them were people to easily suspect or condemn without solid proof.
“They turned to highway robbery?” Elizabeth finally asked, having heard of brigands lurking in the woods near St Albans.
“No, most likely they stole food from farms or hunted the occasional animal, merely biding their time until they could return to London.”
“But what could these men have to do with Fitzwilliam?”
“That was precisely my question as well. The magistrate handling his case told me yesterday that he had been paid…to kill Darcy.”
A heavy silence fell between them. There were undoubtedly sad and sordid occurrences in the world they inhabited. Still, a heinous crime explicitly directed at one man was inconceivable. Elizabeth could hardly imagine it.
“But who?” she asked after a long pause, her beautiful face etched with fear and worry. “Hertfordshire? Fitzwilliam spent two months there and met no one other than our neighbours…who are all honest people. Who could have anything against him? There were no incidents involving him. I assure you, Meryton and Longbourn are not like London. There, everyone knows everyone else’s business. How could this be?”
“I do not know yet, but rest assured, I will find out.”
Elizabeth remained in the library after the colonel had left, and gradually, the beauty of the room began to dissipate the fears in her heart. She trusted the colonel to uncover whether there had been a terrible plot against Fitzwilliam, and she also felt reassured by the protection they had been afforded.
Resolved to keep her composure, she agreed with the colonel’s decision not to tell Georgiana anything just yet. Then, almost involuntarily, her eyes wandered over the bookshelves. She read a few titles and imagined a warm summer afternoon spent in that room, reading. She saw herself in one of the deep leather armchairs, surrounded by open books. Yet the happiness of the scene felt incomplete. Something was missing. When she closed her eyes, she saw Mr Darcy smiling from the chair opposite her.
Her reverie was interrupted by the butler announcing the arrival of Mrs Gardiner and Jane, and for the first time since her arrival, she let her tears fall.