Page 8 of Shadows beneath Rosings (A Darcy and Elizabeth Quick Read Interlude #5)

D arcy stared, stupefied, at the broken corner of the door. There was enough light from the broken part not to need the lamp which was held by the shaking housekeeper. She had only now recalled there were a deeper level of cellars that she had not searched.

He could see the blood smeared across the floor, could see the scrap of fabric caught on the jagged edge of the hole. As he turned back to his cousin, he could see the marks in the dust where Elizabeth must have crawled across the cellar in the darkness, and rage rose within him.

“Richard, with me.”

And he turned to the housekeeper. “Sunlight. This opens to the east side of the house, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” she quavered, her horrified gaze unable to look away from the hole where Elizabeth must have forced her way through.

We ought to ensured this place was searched sooner . His bitter self-castigation echoed in his head. What must she have felt as she struggled to free herself in the cold darkness?

But he burst up the stairs, and out through the servant’s door at the rear of the house, ignoring the startled servants in the hall. Richard was only a step or two behind him as he ran round to the east side of the house.

Elizabeth hadn’t deserved this — this pain, this terror, this effort to free herself. He would make sure she never felt so alone again. He must protect her and he would.

He stood with his cousin as they surveyed the side of the house, overgrown bushes shielding the view of the lower levels. Then they strode along the path.

“It was a coal cellar, Darcy. There must be a wide track for the cart leading to the chute. Though I cannot imagine why it is empty.”

Darcy nodded at Richard. He agreed, which was why they were hurrying. It would be easy to see.

Five minutes later, they stood at the far end of the house. Richard scratched his head. “I don’t understand it. Where’s the path?”

Darcy shivered. When had Elizabeth escaped? Had she been out of doors in the cold all night? Surely she must have come to harm; there was no sign of her having crawled far. But the cellar had been very cold, too. How much she must have suffered — was still suffering.

“I will begin to search more closely,” he said abruptly. “You go and ask the housekeeper exactly where the cellar door opens out to, Richard.”

Darcy pushed his way through the tangled bushes to the outside wall of the house, and began to wade through them, looking for any clue where Elizabeth might be. Lady Catherine must never look outside this part of the house, or she would be furious that the gardeners have not cut the bushes back.

“Elizabeth!” He called softly. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he hoped that she might take comfort from his voice if she could hear him.

He hurried with his task, he could not wait to find her. She must be well, she must . His calls went unanswered, mocking him.

But he persisted; she was here, surely she was? Then — finally , a weak sound, merely a moan. He fought his way through towards Elizabeth, knowing the sound was her, although how he knew, he would never be able to say.

“Elizabeth!” He dropped to his knees beside her. “Thank God I have found you.” His hand was no longer under his iron control and he gently pushed back the tangle of hair obscuring her face. “Elizabeth.”

She seemed barely conscious. Her lips were dry and cracked, smears of blood on her face and her gown, competing with streaks of coal dust. She was filthy, feverish, but even so, utterly beautiful.

He stood and stripped off his jacket. He’d been in too much of a hurry when he ran out to don his greatcoat. But his jacket would be better than nothing, and he draped it gently over her, seeing her flinch as it touched the long deep scratches on her arms.

“Mr. … Mr. Dar...” Her murmur was barely a sound, and he took her hand.

“Rest, dearest Elizabeth. I will take you to Hunsford. You are safe now. I’ve got you.” Slowly, with infinite care, he lifted her into his arms, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. She felt frighteningly light, perhaps she was thirsty.

“It was Miss de…” she could barely speak. “And Mrs. Jen…”

“Hush, now. You are safe. I will keep you safe and you can tell me later what you need to.”

Running steps behind him. “Darcy! You’ve found her.” Richard’s voice was sharp with relief, and he slowed to walk beside him.

“How is she?” He glanced at Elizabeth’s huddled form.

“We will need the apothecary, Richard. Urgently. Can you go on to Hunsford and warn Mrs. Collins, and get him sent for?”

Richard nodded. “That coal cellar is disused, Darcy. That’s why the path is overgrown.

One of the servants broke his leg on the steps of the shaft a few years ago, shovelling coal, and the housekeeper stopped using it, since they rarely empty the other cellar.

” He gave Darcy a look which said they would talk later, and hurried off towards the parsonage.

As he reached the front gate of the parsonage, Mrs. Collins was waiting for him, wringing her hands.

“You found her, Mr. Darcy! Praise be, you found her.” She looked anxiously at her friend.

“The Colonel has sent the gig for the apothecary, with instructions that he is to drop everything and return with it.” She hesitated.

“Should Mr. Collins carry her to her bedchamber?”

“I will do it.” Darcy was resolute. Even if he had admired Mr. Collins, he would not release Elizabeth until he could place her safely onto her bed himself.

Slowly and infinitely gently, he climbed the stairs. He would not cause her any further pain by jolting her.

Mrs. Collins eased his jacket from around Elizabeth, and he carefully lowered her onto the bed where the sheets had been folded back. Her lavender scent rose up around him and his eyes stung. How nearly he had lost her; how nearly he would never have experienced her scent again.

Elizabeth’s murmur was barely a whisper, and he lowered his head closer to hear her.

“Water,” she whispered. “Please.” He looked up just as a maid hurried in with a jug and glass on a tray.

Darcy eased his arm behind Elizabeth and lifted her slightly as Mrs. Collins brought the glass over to him and he held it while Elizabeth drank.

Mrs. Collins was wringing her hands again, glancing at the door. “Mr. Darcy, I think Mr. Collins will be unhappy you are here in Elizabeth’s bedchamber. Perhaps you would wait downstairs. I need to assist Elizabeth to refresh herself.”

A glance at Elizabeth evinced a flush, and he thought perhaps he was embarrassing her. “Very well, Mrs. Collins. But I wish to be kept informed of everything .” He turned to Elizabeth, and lifted her hand to his lips, seeing the myriad of cuts and splinters. “You are the bravest lady I know.”

“You saved her life, Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Collins’ voice was low. “I can never thank you enough.”

He shook his head. “No. She saved herself. I merely found her.”

He looked at Elizabeth from the door before he went downstairs. She was looking at him, a sense of bewilderment, as if nothing could ever be the same between them again.