Richard was in the breakfast room, taking his coffee and reading the newspaper, when he heard a muffled sound he knew well enough — a gunshot. He ran from the room towards the back of the house, looking for somebody to enquire about the noise, when he found the stable boy. “Did you hear that sound? ”
“Yes, sir. It sounded like a gunshot coming from the area close to Mr Collins’s house.”
Richard did not think twice. “Gather some armed men and meet me here with the horses as soon as possible.”
It could not have been someone hunting as it was not the season yet. He ran back into the house and to his bedchamber, where he found his own sword and pistol, and some munition. On his way out he checked Darcy’s room, but there was only one of the maids cleaning it. He asked her to tell Mr Darcy, and nobody else, he was out with some men investigating some trespassers, and that he would come back soon.
In no time he was back at the stables, where the other men were now gathering. “We heard a gunshot coming from around Mr Collins’ house,” Richard said, mounting his horse and leading the group away. “Please be careful. We do not know what has happened.”
When they arrived at the parsonage, Mr Collins was already at the gate, his face pale as chalk. “Dear Lord, sir! Thank you for coming; I was already on my way to call for help. I fear something dreadful must have happened. Cousin Elizabeth is not here. Cook informed us that she went out for her morning walk. Then I heard what seemed like her shouting and the noise of a gunshot. It came from the end of the south path, down the valley, close to the brook.”
Richard had the answer he needed, and in seconds they headed in the direction Mr Collins had pointed out. He knew the place; it was where he had found Darcy in the mud with Miss Elizabeth.
~ ? ~
The jolt of the carriage awoke Elizabeth. She brought her hand to her sore face, struggling to see in the darkness. Then, she heard muffled voices.
“Yes, I’ve a plan for ’er. Go back to London and wait for my instructions. I need to arrange somethin’ for you. Quick, you can’t be seen with us. ”
The door opened. The bright light dazzled Elizabeth as the silhouette of a man shadowed over her. “So, our lady’s awake. Good. Take this.” The man threw a large bag on the seat. “Make sure he doesn’t bleed to death,” he said, shutting the door.
A moment later, the carriage was on its way.
The sudden movement made Elizabeth wince. Still a bit dizzy, she touched her right cheek again; the corner of her mouth was swollen, and her lower lip was bleeding. She frowned, confused by the man’s words.
“Oh, no. Mr Darcy,” she shouted as she remembered what had happened.
With her eyes adjusted again to the dim light inside what she now understood was a carriage, Elizabeth looked up at the seats, but saw nothing. Perplexed, she tried to sit up, when her fingers felt something on the floor beside her. Mr Darcy’s dark hair and green coat had blended his still body with the shadows on the floor. Tears stung her eyes as she carefully tried to turn him onto his back, praying for his life. She did not need light to see the large stain of blood on his once white shirt.
“Mr Darcy,” she whispered, caressing his dirty face with trembling hands.
He was so cold.
A shiver ran down her spine. Please be alive, please! She quickly lowered an ear to his mouth and released a deep sigh when she heard his weak but steady breathing. A mixture of feelings — disgust, rage, fear and despair — engulfed Elizabeth. “Cowards,” she finally shouted, hot tears finding their way down her face, burning the cuts on her skin.
The realisation of their situation hit her hard; they had been kidnapped and Mr Darcy was seriously wounded. She could not contain her emotions any longer and surrendered to uncontrollable sobs, wondering what she could do for him.
The horrible man’s words echoed in her mind. “ Make sure he doesn’t bleed to death .”
The bag.
With some effort, she reached for it. It contained bandages, a small brown bottle on which she managed to read ‘laudanum’, three other bottles, which by the smell she concluded were water bottles, and, surprisingly, a loaf of bread.
She used the back of her sleeves to dry her face, while trying to remember what she had learnt about caring for a wound — although most of it for animals.
Pulling back one of the curtains to let light flood the interior of the carriage, the blood stain on Mr Darcy’s shirt turned into a vibrant shade of red. She felt dizzy. But that was not the moment for weakness. Inhaling deeply, Elizabeth began to open Darcy’s coat, unbuttoned his waistcoat. Starting from the burnt bullet hole, she tore the fabric of his shirt, opening her way into his wounded flesh. Once the injury was at last exposed, she tried to understand what she was seeing.
Her face softened as she passed a hand over her own neck and shoulder, comparing it to his body. Not his heart! Despite the fortunate position by which the bullet had passed through Mr Darcy’s body, he was still bleeding.
A sudden movement of the carriage bounced their bodies, and he moaned and mumbled incomprehensible words.
Elizabeth cupped his cold face. “Mr Darcy? Please, can you hear me?” At his lack of response, she decided to do what was necessary. “Forgive me, but this will hurt…” she murmured. Then, counting to three, she held her breath and pressed the front wound with a piece of bandage.
Darcy gasped, grimacing as he cried out in pain, quickly reaching for her wrist with so much strength that she did not know if she should be happy to see him very much alive, or scream in pain.
A moment later, he loosened his grip, relaxed his body and started breathing again.
“Mr Darcy,” she whispered, taking his face with her other hand. His forehead was wet with his perspiration. “It is me, Elizabeth. Please, talk to me.”
~ ? ~
Once Richard and the other men reached the end of the path, he dismounted and started looking around, telling the other men to do the same. He walked towards the grove and something on the floor caught his attention. It was a lady’s bonnet — with a hole in it. He brought it to his nose. The burnt smell was still fresh.
“Colonel, over here!” one of his men shouted, pointing to a dark puddle on the grass.
Richard crouched down and touched the damp area with his finger. Blood . “Good Lord. Poor Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered.
It did not take them long to find the bullet; but it was the second object, in fact two sodden wads of cloth, that froze Richard’s heart as he separated the red-stained handkerchiefs and saw the initials of his cousin on one of them.
Without turning his head, he addressed the stable boy. “Please, go back to the house as fast as you can and find out if Mr Darcy is still there. Go!” Then, he asked a footman to go to the village to try to find any information he could about anything suspicious or unusual.
After a short time, while they were still searching the area for more clues, the stable boy returned, panting from the exertion of his efforts, and confirmed Richard’s deepest fear.
“Sir, Mr Darcy is nowhere to be found. His valet said he must have left very early for his walk. His horse is still in the stable, sir. In the kitchen, one of the maids confirmed she had seen Mr Darcy leaving the house very early. She thought he was going out for his usual walk.”
Richard closed his eyes in agony.
Oh, Darcy .
Looking down at the bonnet in his hand, he tried to make sense of it. Had Elizabeth been holding her bonnet when she was shot? Or Darcy? Whose blood was this?
In the end, he abandoned his useless attempts at trying to figure out what had happened. In any case, despite whoever had been shot, the victim was not dead; otherwise, the perpetrators would not have taken the trouble of carrying the body.
After ensuring that they had not missed anything else, Richard asked Mr Collins to fetch his wife and meet him at the manor house, then send another man to the village for the constable.
Due to the circumstances, they had no time to waste.
They were already back at the stables, when the footman returned from the village with information.
“According to some of my acquaintances, a strange rider, quite bruised, stopped by the apothecary and asked for some provisions. Apparently, when questioned about the reason, the gentleman said one of his servants had been seriously burnt in the furnace of a local blacksmith, some place north from here, and they were on their way to London to look for a doctor. When the apothecary offered to see the victim, the gentleman said he was in a carriage further ahead and he had to reach it by horse as soon as possible. ‘The poor man must be in agony,’ he had said. He then ordered quite a lot of bandages and a small bottle of laudanum. Before that, the baker said the same man had stopped at the bakery to buy some bread.”
By that extraordinary account, Richard did not have any further doubts. Both Darcy and Elizabeth had been taken, and one of them, if not both, was seriously wounded.
~ ? ~
Despite his agony and the sickening pain spreading throughout his entire body, Darcy managed to open his eyes and recognise his companion. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, trying to reach for her hand on his face, closing his eyes again.
“Oh, Mr Darcy. Thank God you are alive,” she whispered in relief. “I am so sorry, but before anything else, I need to try to stop your bleeding, and I need your help. Do you think you can sit?”
Darcy took a deep breath and nodded. Elizabeth stood, helping him to sit up. He winced but managed to keep his position .
“You must forgive me, but I will need to remove your coat and waistcoat, and check for more bleeding on your back.”
Darcy just nodded.
As she pulled pieces of clothing from his body, her suspicions were confirmed; he had another hole on his back. The bullet had torn through his body.
She repeated the process of pressing his other wound, torn apart by his agonising moans of pain. Once she was satisfied with her efforts, she wrapped him with the bandages and put his clothes back on him, helping him to sit on the ripped seat of the carriage.
“It will keep your shoulder immobile and, I hope, will help you with the pain,” Elizabeth concluded, accommodating Darcy’s left arm inside the improvised sling she had made, then sat opposite him.
“Thank you,” he said with a weak voice. His painful expression was replaced by one of rage as his gaze rested on her face. “You are hurt! What have those bastards done to you?”
“I am fine. I mean, it is nothing serious,” she said, touching her mouth. “It is a little sore, but apart from this cut, I am well. I think I put up too much resistance when they were trying to take me away…” from you .
Elizabeth’s voice cracked and she lowered her eyes to Darcy’s neck, then to where his arm rested in her improvised sling. She stopped and covered her mouth as a new flood of emotion brought tears to her eyes; tears she could not fight again as she remembered all that had happened. The memory of her bonnet flying in the air, just a couple of inches from her head, confirmed how close she had come to dying. “But I am alive, and because of you. Thank you.”
“Please, do not thank me. I did what needed to be done.”
Shame and embarrassment overflowed, and she shook her head, trying to find words to express her confusion, to make sense of the thoughts crossing her mind. “Why, sir? Why did you do that, after… after the way I have treated you?”
Darcy swallowed hard. “When I heard you saying Wickham’s name, and then one of the other men shouting for Wickham to duck… and saw th e gun… I understood what was happening. It was when…” He paused, swallowing again. “They were holding me tight. I could not fight them, but I could… knock into him.” He stopped again, frowning, and then looked back at her. “I could not live in a world if you were not in it, Elizabeth. I could not live without the hope of being able to see you again, look into your eyes, even knowing… how little you think of me.” His eyes lowered to where his hand was pressing his thigh. “I love you, Elizabeth. That is why.”
Listening again to his declaration stirred violent emotions and made her feel completely unworthy. More than she ever thought possible. She brought both hands to her face and cried until she had no tears left.
All her dislike for him was not just because of his prejudice against her family or Mr Wickham’s words, but, in fact, a defensive response to his rejection of her, and his abandonment of Hertfordshire.
But now, whatever the reason he had to leave her behind, they did not matter, not after what he had done for her.
He had no way to know he would survive that gunshot.
Now that the hard truth had finally been admitted, she knew what she needed to do.
Under his saddened gaze, she carefully took the seat beside him, gently taking his cold hand. Between tears, she brought it to her lips and kissed it, holding it against her wet cheek. “Please, forgive me,” she said at last. “I have been so blind and unfair. I accused you of things I am so ashamed of I cannot even repeat. I have misjudged you and treated you shamefully. You were right… about everything. Can you ever forgive me?”
All of Darcy’s discomfort suddenly lifted away. Could it be that she was not as indifferent to him as she had wanted him to believe? He could have sworn on his life that he had seen regard for him in her eyes.
A small spark of hope warmed his heart.
Then Darcy understood.
He had been right about her feelings for him. But in his desperate need to convince himself of the unsuitability of her family and circumstances, he had buried his happiness with his bare hands. He had not needed Wickham or Bingley’s help for it. He had done that himself.
Was it really necessary for him to be shot to see this truth?
Darcy looked down at her again, her shoulders moving as she sobbed. He could feel the moistness of her tears in his palm and his heart filled with tenderness for the young woman beside him.
They were both so stubborn.
Oh, God help them.
If he was going to die, at least he would leave this world with the woman he loved in his arms.
Hang the discomfort and the pain. Placing his finger under her chin, he raised her face. Her beautiful eyes were puffed and red, still filled with unshed tears. His thumb caressed her wet face. “There is nothing to forgive, Elizabeth. I have been a fool.” He slid his hand to her back, bringing her into his embrace. She gently nestled in his chest, as he placed kisses on her hair.
“How can you even say you still love me after what I have said?” she mumbled against his chest.
He thanked God for this opportunity, and, by heavens, he would not waste it. “I love you in a way I never thought possible, and that scared me. I love when we talk. I love our discussions and even our disagreements.” He grimaced as the frenetic movements of the carriage shook them from one side to another. “You saw the man behind the facade, and that made me defenceless against you, my dearest Elizabeth. You are intelligent, kind, and generous. I love everything about you… your beautiful hair, your bright eyes, your lips… but I adore your freckles. God knows how difficult it has been to not kiss every single one of them.”
Elizabeth giggled at his declaration, and suddenly all her pain and guilt were forgotten.
How foolish she had been.
But her newfound happiness was short lived. Looking up at him she saw small drops of perspiration forming over the stubble on his upper lip.
“Oh, sir. You must be in so much pain,” she said reaching for a bag. “ I shall give you some laudanum. It would do you good to have a little.”
With his eyes still closed, Darcy shook his head. He could not be any more defenceless than he already was.
“It is not like any of us can fight against those miscreants when they have guns,” said Elizabeth, as if reading his thoughts. “Please, it would make me feel better to know you are not in so much pain. You need to rest to recover your strength. You have lost too much blood.”
Darcy sighed, feeling very queasy, and then nodded, but not before indignation brought a bitter taste to his mouth.
Elizabeth reached for the bottle of laudanum, looking around. “Usually, we need to dilute it with some water or tea, but we do not have a cup.” She paused, thinking, then took a piece of bread and wetted it with some drops of the laudanum.
As Darcy was still keeping his eyes closed, Elizabeth put the piece of bread in his hand and raised it to his mouth. “Please eat it. It will taste quite bitter, but this is the only way for you to have it.”
Darcy ate the piece of bread and almost emptied the contents of his stomach — had he eaten anything that morning. Elizabeth offered him some water, which he gladly accepted, followed by another piece of bread, this time plain.
“Thank you,” he said between forced gasps. “How did you know how much I needed? Have you already had another patient?”
Elizabeth smiled at his attempt of levity. “My father broke a leg some years ago. An accident with one of the horses. He had to stay in bed for two months, but the first couple of weeks were the worst. The apothecary taught me how to add a couple of drops of laudanum to his tea. This not only helped my father to cope with his pain, but also assisted us to cope with his bad temper. Papa can be quite unpleasant when frustrated.”
She thought about her family. Was she ever going to see them again?
Darcy leaned back, also thinking about his family, and Georgiana.
A sombre thought passed through his mind.
“Elizabeth, there is a letter in my coat pocket. Would you please read it? I spent last night writing it, trying to explain everything. ”
She looked surprised but reached for his pocket and found the letter she had seen before. As she broke the seal, a neat and elegant handwriting appeared before her eyes.
“If something happens to me, and I do not survive, I want you to know the truth. I do not want to die knowing you think ill of me.”
Those were the last words she heard from his lips before he fell into a troubled sleep.