Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
SCREWING UP COURAGE
“You are a lucky man.” Colonel Hastings sat on the wooden chair at the side of Richard’s bed in his accustomed room at Darcy House.
“Did you know that Lyons’ father was a doctor, up in his village near Glasgow?
He learned a lot at his father’s side as a lad and was able to stop the bleeding until your fellow, Jacobi, could see you.
Lucky to have him arrive at the same time we did. ”
From his comfortable seat in the corner of the room, Dr. Jacobi nodded. “He saved your life. You lost a lot of blood. No, you do not move! I have not kept you alive to have you tear the wound and bleed to death now.”
Richard had woken up in his room that morning, aching and parched, to learn that he had been rendered insensible with opium for the last two days to allow the deep gash in his side to knit and start to heal.
He had taken an infection from the filthy dagger, and had been regaled with stories of how they had feared for him for a time.
He had vague memories of people milling about and of being carefully carried on an old door, and felt as weak as a new-born kitten, but the intervening time might not have existed for all he could tell.
He was thankful not to have recalled what might have transpired.
From the line of stitches he felt itching near his ribs, he suspected being awake for this treatment would not have been pleasant.
Through the fog that still surrounded him, he struggled to raise his head to look for Emily.
He could not imagine she would be allowed in here, into a man’s bedchamber, but he sought her nonetheless.
The effort was enormous, and he let his head drop back onto the soft pillow.
He groaned with the surge of pain that shot through him.
“You are seeking your friend,” Dr. Jacobi mused. “She would have slept on the floor outside if I had permitted it. I sent her home last night to be with her father. I expect she will return soon. She is quite devoted to you.”
Richard nodded. The motion made his head swim. “Tell me the rest,” he managed to say.
“It was the most adventure I have had in an age,” Hastings replied with a grin. “Lyons arrived at the tavern just as we did, and that man you sent led us through the laneways to the house. He demanded his sixpence, which you now owe me.”
“As soon as I am strong enough to open my purse!” It felt good to jest with his friend, even if speaking was exhausting.
“We could not have come at a better time,” Hastings said.
“We entered in time to see Miss Barrow land a most convincing crack on Weekes’ head, just as he was about to attack you again.
Her timing was perfect, and her aim better.
Weekes was out cold for hours. His head surely still aches more than yours does, and he will find his bed far less comfortable. ”
Then the rat was cornered and trapped. Excellent. He nodded through the wave of dizziness and let Hastings continue.
“Lyons saw to you, and I set my men to securing the house. There were girls upstairs, locked in their rooms. They’ve been released and cared for, but what will happen now, who only knows.
Theirs is a sad lot. We also found that giant in the cellars, where Miss Barrow had locked him.
Smart lass, that one, to have escaped as she did.
I would keep her if I were you. Lyons had also brought along another chap he knows from the Bow Street Runners.
We had a bit of a time deciding who would get first crack at Weekes, since the charges against him are civil and military both.
He is being held now for the abduction of Miss Barrow, attempted murder of you, operating a brothel, and fraud.
Oh yes, when we examined his decks and dice, we knew what we would find!
And finally, there’s the charge of desertion from the army.
He will never walk free. There will be no panel of his cronies this time, and justice will be done at last. I suspect it’s the noose, but that is a matter for the courts. You are rid of him.”
Thank the heavens. Justice. Richard allowed his head to sink into Darcy’s cloudlike pillow, and he drifted into a peaceful sleep.
The next time Richard woke, Dr Jacobi announced that Emily had returned and was awaiting him.
Although still weak, he felt much improved and was able to convince the doctor to allow him to sit up against a pile of pillows.
Dr Jacobi supervised this endeavour with a hawk-like eye, prodding at the wound on his side with grim attention, but soon pronounced himself satisfied and permitted the visitor.
She entered the room with halting steps, as if unsure what she would find. When her eyes lit upon Richard, propped up on his mound of pillows, her face broke into a wide grin, and Richard was certain his own smile matched hers.
“It is so good to see you awake!” She flew across the floor in three strides, heedless of her presence in a man’s space.
For his part, Richard was more than happy to throw propriety to the winds, just to have her close once more.
He beamed back, and she placed a tentative kiss on his cheek.
“You scared me, Richard! I cannot tell you how much you scared me.” She took the chair that Hastings had sat in earlier and took his hands in her own.
That same tingle radiated from the point of her touch and danced up his arms. If Dr. Jacobi were not still in his seat by the wall, Richard would have thrown caution to the wind and kissed her there.
“From what I am told, I have you to thank for my life.” He gripped her hands as they held his.
“You were remarkable… you are remarkable! You freed yourself from a prison by outwitting your captor, and you felled an armed and dangerous man with a single blow. I ought to be afraid of you, and yet all I can think is how fortunate I am to have you as… as a friend.”
An odd look danced over her face at those words.
He should speak now. He should confess his heart to her.
And yet something held him back. He recognised what it was: cowardice!
Once more, when confronted with the possibility of Emily spurning him and withdrawing from their friendship, he could not make himself take that irrevocable step.
Instead, he raised her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss onto the back of one of them and observed her reaction.
Did she look pleased? She certainly did not withdraw or seem distressed.
When he was healed and back to full strength, then, perhaps…
“I could hardly stand by and watch him kill you, could I?” she replied. “You did a fine job in distracting him. I could not miss!”
“But not every woman—no, not even every man—could have done the task with such determination and success.”
“Perhaps not every woman or man has somebody so worth fighting for.” There was that odd expression again.
He held on to her hands, not willing to let them go. “How do you fare? You suffered a terrible ordeal.”
She laughed, but it sounded forced. “I find I am not as fragile as a lady ought to be. I am quite well, although I wonder if I am still in some sort of shock. Perhaps, once I return to my accustomed patterns, I shall begin to feel the horror of it. But at the time, all I could do was think logically about how to free myself and return to you. I did not have the luxury of panic.”
She could not stay long. “I must tell Mother how much improved you are, and Father expects me for dinner. He does not know what happened, nor can we tell him, so as not to upset or excite him, and I cannot excuse myself for another night. I shall return in the morning.” She kissed his cheek once more and bid goodbye to the doctor, who was making a point of being lost in a book.
“Until tomorrow, Richard.”
“I am counting the seconds, Emily.”
The following days passed quickly. Richard was still weak from his injuries and slept a great deal, and the pain from his wound troubled him more than he wished to admit.
How ironic, he mused to Emily on one of her too-short visits, that after all the effort his father had put into keeping him in England and safe from battle, he should come so close to losing his life right here in London.
Nevertheless, he declared himself stronger each day, and by Saturday morning, was able to convince the doctor to allow him to rise and walk about the room.
A tap at his door came as he was finishing his tea. It was not Emily, as he had hoped, but a footman with a letter. “An express. From the master,” was all the man said before bowing out of the room.
What did Darcy have to say so urgently? Richard pried off the wax seal and scanned his cousin’s note. What he read left him beaming.
Friday, October 16, Netherfield
Richard,
I have had word from my housekeeper that you are taking full advantage of my hospitality in my absence.
You may make free of Darcy House for one more month, at which time I must insist you quit the premises.
For at that time, I shall be arriving with my bride, whom I am certain will not wish to entertain her new husband’s impecunious relations for some time.
Yes, my friend, it is true! I screwed up my courage to speak once more, and this time Elizabeth accepted me!
After her set-down last March, I scarcely expected her ever to speak to me again, but she did.
She somehow learned of my role in her sister’s wedding to that scoundrel Wickham and begged to thank me.
I assured her that my thoughts were for her and her alone, and then I could not help myself.
I told her that if she but said the word, I would never breathe this again, but that I still loved her.
And she, oh, blessed moment, she told me she loved me too.
I can hardly believe my fortune. I have never felt such fear, but I have never had such great rewards!
You may wish me joy when next we meet. You can expect an invitation to the wedding when it is arranged.
I shall send this off at first light. But now I must go, for my betrothed is awaiting me in the library.
Your most grateful and blessed cousin,
FD
So, he had done it! Darcy had asked Elizabeth Bennet to be his wife, and she had accepted.
Darcy was a lucky man indeed! And more so, after the great insult he had dealt the lady last Easter, with Richard’s own unwitting role in the debacle.
He still regretted what he had done, but it was for the best, after all, for it had allowed Darcy to fully explain himself.
Miss Elizabeth might never have accepted him otherwise.
After such a set-down, after such a castigation of motive and character both, what utter devotion he must have had to Elizabeth, and what utter courage he must have summoned up to propose to her again.
And, as Darcy himself had acknowledged, what great benefit he had derived from finding this courage.
Steel stiffened Richard’s spine. Darcy was no military man; he was a gentleman farmer.
His decisions about field rotations and local justice were important, but they were not the life-and-death issues that Richard had to deal with every day.
Richard was the soldier, the man whose career depended on his fortitude and his courage, his absolute faith in the rightness of his decisions.
He had clamoured to prove his mettle in the field of battle, in the arena of war.
But he was now cowed by his own heart. This would not do!
Some iota of Aunt Catherine’s blood flowed in his veins, and this time, he would not be denied.
If Darcy could do it, he could do it!
And suddenly he realised how he could offer marriage to Emily Barrow and not risk losing her friendship.
The first moment he had to speak to her privately, he would be the soldier and act!