Chapter Fifteen
“Do not give way to useless alarm; though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain.”
FITZ
I WATCHED HELPLESSLY NEARBY AS the paramedics assessed Monroe. The ambulance lights flashed in the field, while the rest of the guests and staff stood in shock—some stunned into silence, others crying and expressing their hopes she would be well. Monroe hadn’t regained consciousness, and I feared the worst. Several minutes had passed now, and I was hearing words like a traumatic brain or spinal cord injury coming from the paramedics. Thankfully, she was breathing on her own, and oddly, her vitals were normal. Monroe was perplexing the medical professionals, just as she’d perplexed me for as long as I’d known her. To love someone as much as I loved her, despite knowing how complicated a romantic relationship would be, bewildered me. Yet I knew there was no one else for me except Monroe. And now I was faced with the possibility that ... I didn’t want to think about it.
But think about it I did. What if I lost Monroe? What if she never regained consciousness and she died thinking I didn’t want her or love her for who she was? The thought almost brought me to my knees, but I stood, trying to stay strong for her.
“I feel awful,” Jane sobbed into Bingley’s chest.
“It’s not your fault,” he tried to comfort her, though I could tell it annoyed him that she hadn’t just refused to ride the horse in the first place.
I didn’t blame Jane, but I wished she had refused to ride as well. What I wouldn’t give right now for Monroe to be telling me off. She did it so well, and I deserved it.
The insufferable Lady Catherine tapped me on the arm. “I hate to disturb you at such a time, but I must think about the park and the experience for the rest of our guests. I do hope you will stay on as our Mr. Darcy. Chances are there isn’t much you can do at the hospital. We will find you another Elizabeth.”
“I would be more than happy to take Monroe’s place.” Winnifred raised her hand, not looking abashed at all for her gross misconduct.
I had never felt such contempt in my life. There was no hiding my resting Darcy face , as Monroe would say. If only she were awake to say it, so I could pretend to be annoyed by it. My eyes narrowed and lips curled as I turned to face the awful women. “I can’t believe either of you has the audacity to worry about such trivial things while Monroe,” my voice hitched, speaking her name, but I regained my composure, hoping I would have the chance to break down in private, but needing for now to be strong for Monroe. “ . . . lies there hurt. How badly, we don’t know. Winnifred, I thought we were better friends than that,” I scolded her. “I thought you were a better person.”
Winnifred’s face burst into flames of red to match her auburn hair, but she said nothing in her defense.
“As for you,” I rounded on Lady Catherine. “You have been nothing short of vile to Monroe.”
Her mouth fell open, and she spluttered incomprehensible words, trying to defend herself.
“Monroe has dreamed for years of coming to this place, and you have treated her more than unfairly. Why? Because she doesn’t fit some mold?” My own words pierced what little heart I had. I felt disgusted with myself. Had I withheld myself from Monroe because she didn’t fit the mold of the peerage? “Her biggest crime was being excited to be here and wanting those around her to enjoy this fantasy along with her. But all you could do was look down your nose at her. So, no. If Monroe can’t be my Elizabeth, I will not be Mr. Darcy. I don’t give a damn who you get to replace me.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes watered while her hands shook so much, she clasped them together. “Well,” her voice trembled. “I am sorry that you feel this way.”
“You should be sorry for how you treated Monroe.” But not as sorry as I was for how I had treated her. “Don’t expect me to recommend this place.” I strode off.
“Your Grace, please wait. I can make it right,” Lady Catherine called after me, but I ignored her.
I wasn’t sure what she could do—nor did I care. All I wanted was for Monroe to be well and open her gorgeous eyes again.
I watched as they placed Monroe on a stretcher with her neck in a brace and her face covered with an oxygen mask. She looked absolutely helpless. “I thought she was breathing on her own,” I said, gutted, feeling as if I needed an oxygen mask of my own. All the air in my lungs had disappeared.
“She is, Your Grace,” the female paramedic answered. “The oxygen is just a precaution until we can get her to hospital, have her evaluated by a physician, and run some tests.”
“I want her taken to the private hospital in town.” I would call in a set of specialists from around the world to see her if I had to. Money would be no object.
The male paramedic nodded.
“I’m coming with you,” I stated, not allowing any room for argument. Sometimes it was good to be a duke.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Hold up,” Tony yelled, jogging over to me.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
Tony stared, ashen faced, at Monroe as they hoisted the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. “She’s going to be okay, right?”
“Do you really care?”
“Yes,” he murmured, as if he hated to admit it.
I didn’t bother with a response before stepping up into the ambulance and squeezing myself between the medical supplies and Monroe. “My love.” I took her cold, delicate hand and held it between my own. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say, and for the first time in many years, tears rolled down my cheeks as I prepared for the worst.