Chapter Twenty-Five #3
A loud crashing and a curse, and George, almost beside himself with agitation, dropped to his knees at Elizabeth’s other side.
His hat was gone, his clothing askew and as bedecked with dirt and leaves as Darcy and Elizabeth’s own.
He must have lost his footing in his haste, and rolled down the hillside.
He rasped in a couple of breaths, his hand shaking as he reached out to touch Elizabeth’s face.
She stirred, opened her eyes, and gave them both a weary smile. “Hello, George.”
“Oh Lizzy. I thought my heart would stop.” George bent over to lay his face against her tumbled hair. “Lizzy. I would never… Lizzy.”
Darcy sat back and forced away the frown. When George sat upright again, dashing his hand against his eyes, Darcy hoped his expression showed nothing of what he felt.
Not that he knew what he felt.
Not that he would speak of what he felt, to any but her.
Reid slid down to join them. “All well?”
“No sign of him. Elizabeth tells me there is a higher road up the hill. He may have gone that way.” Darcy picked up the Wallis and eased the trigger of the pistol to uncocked to prevent the flint from striking, aware George was eyeing it.
“I cannot believe what Reid told me. A shot?”
“Took my hat, but not my head, and scared the horse pulling the gig.”
“I cannot believe it.”
“Does everyone know?”
“Lord, no! Reid told me quietly, and I will say nothing, I assure you.”
“The fewer gossiping about this, the better. And at the moment, the most important thing is to get Elizabeth to safety, and into Dr Barrow’s care.”
“The sooner the better. I cannot argue with that.”
“Do not fret. Mr Darcy took very great care of me.” Elizabeth’s smile was small, fugitive, with little of its usual brilliance.
“We will soon have you home to Pemberley.” Darcy stowed the pistol in his coat pocket.
“I trust you,” she said.
George gave him an odd look, then shook his head. “How in the devil’s name will we get her up that slope?”
“One of us will carry her. We will need rope.”
“Wilkinson follows with a cart and some of the men, and was stowing rope when I left.” Reid cocked his head to one side. “I can hear the others. Miss Jane is with them. She would not be left behind.”
Darcy let out a small sigh as the tension in his chest eased. “They are stout men. They will be able to haul us up and perhaps cause Elizabeth the least discomfort possible.”
Shouts came from the road, including the higher-pitched voice of Jane Bennet incoherent with terror as she called for her sister. George yelled reassurances back, and a noisy descent began as someone made their way down to join them.
Darcy withdrew his flask from the other pocket, and unscrewed it. “Elizabeth, I want you to drink some of this.”
“Brandy?”
“As much as you can swallow. It will hurt you to move you, and carrying you up to the road will be the devil. This is all we have to dull the pain.” Darcy, only belatedly wondering when she had become Elizabeth to him, gestured to George to raise her up.
They both winced at the guttural noise she made in her throat when George did so, gentle as he was. “I am sorry. Drink.”
He held the flask to her lips, and, her eyes on him, steady and trusting, she did as she was bid, coughing and choking at the unaccustomed bite. She grimaced—with pain, decidedly, and likely at the taste. He made her take another mouthful. And another.
“Enough! Horrid stuff. I cannot imagine why gentlemen like it so.” She tried to raise her hand to push his away, and the breath hissed between her clenched teeth. “I should not have done that.”
“One more sip.”
“You would have me carried into Pemberley in my cups as well as so dirty? Miss Bingley will never forgive the lack of decorum.” She spoke faintly, fading away from them.
“We must not make her sick,” Reid said, quietly.
“I merely want her insensible.” Darcy screwed the lid back on. “Not long now, my brave girl. Not long.” He nodded as Tom Wilkinson reached them, aware of George’s glower and downturned mouth. “Tom, we will need to carry Miss Elizabeth up to the road. Reid says you have rope?”
“Aye. They’re just now belaying it around the biggest rock, and will toss the end doon here. That’s a wreck up there.”
“We were lucky.” Darcy hesitated. Was he generous enough to do this? “You take her, George, and we will steady you from behind. You will have no balance, otherwise.”
They looked at each other. In the end, George gave a sharp nod, and glanced away.
A rope snaked down, and after that, it all went surprisingly swiftly, and, truth be told, more easily than Darcy had feared.
Reid tied the rope around George’s waist, and with Darcy’s help, George lifted Elizabeth up.
Despite the dulling effect of brandy, she could not prevent another of those muted shrieks, and her sobbing “No! No! Let me be!” was muffled only by Darcy gently turning her face into George’s shoulder.
Darcy and Reid steadied George from behind as the men on the road pulled on the rope to haul him upwards.
Tom snatched up Reid’s coat, and followed them.
A lifetime of exertion, of panting breathlessness, of all the weight of responsibility to ensure George and his precious burden did not slip, and they were there.
Safe. Hands reaching for them, pulling them onto the road itself.
Gentle hands settling Elizabeth, seemingly insensible now, into the back of the cart, strewn with straw for her comfort.
Miss Jane clambering up to take Elizabeth’s head in her lap, tears pouring down her pale face.
A nip of his own brandy to compose himself after their adventure.
Staggering to the cart on legs that felt suddenly boneless.
He blew out a hard breath, steadied himself on the cart side and kept his gaze from the splintered wreck of the gig on the side of the road.
Jane Bennet gave him a watery smile, faint as a cloud wisp. “Thank you.”
“All will be well.” He believed it at last.
“I’ve sent men on ahead to warn Pemberley, and tell them to send a groom post haste to Buxton for Dr Barrow,” Reid said.
“Tom sent some of the boys up the hill to tell Mr Hugh and his party what has happened, so I expect they will follow us. T’will take them a half-hour, at least, to get back down to the farm.
We’ll be home to Pemberley before they catch us up. ”
If there was a note of faint cynicism in Reid’s voice when he mentioned Hugh, Darcy decided not to remark upon it.
Of the several men who had gone on ahead, one now came back leading Reid’s horse. “Found the horse pulling the gig, too, but I left it for you to pick up as you pass it. ’Tis bleeding, sir, on the offside haunch, and skittish as a spring lamb. Wouldn’t let me close.”
“I’ll see to it,” Reid promised, exchanging a look with Darcy.
If the ball had skimmed the horse, no wonder it had bolted. As he took Ram’s reins and prepared to mount, Darcy looked down at Elizabeth’s white face and swore to himself that whoever had shot at them would swing for it.
Whoever it was.