Chapter 16
As any lady who has ever lost one glove from a set knows, the only way to find the lost item is to stop looking. Elizabeth had concentrated so much of her attention on what she had lost, she had forgotten this simple truth until her father presented another puzzle to solve.
Confusion and uncertainty, her constant companions that morning, dwindled at the prospect of a tangible problem with which to engross her mind. The sooner she began, the sooner her memories would return.
“You said the axle was cut?” she asked.
“About a third of the way through, which explains why the coachman did not notice it.”
Elizabeth nibbled on her lips, thinking aloud. “The wood is hard. Whoever did it would have to be strong … and unless this person carried around their own cutting tool, he or she would need to know Longbourn well enough to know where our saw is kept. It is a promising beginning.”
Her father fell quiet, both he and Mr. Darcy regarding her quizzically.
She tempered her smile. They must think her mad, but for the first time in hours, she felt in control.
Capable. Competent. “It is an unfortunate discovery, but now that the danger is past, I cannot help but feel some relief. If I can piece clues together to find the saboteur, then I am certain to find my misplaced memories along the way.”
Mr. Darcy’s reaction was immediate and unyielding. “Absolutely not.”
She crossed her arms. “Why not?” adding in her own mind, And who are you to forbid me without explanation?
To his credit, his eyes softened, but his posture remained stiff, his tone unrelenting.
“You have suffered a terrible accident, and until your memories are recovered, surely you can see the advantage of not potentially exposing yourself to more danger. Someone purposefully sabotaged your family’s carriage, knowing you would use it this morning. You must avoid trouble. You must rest.”
You must. You must. Her back stiffened each time he told her what she must do. She was decided, and that was that. “We cannot assume I was the target of this attack. Otherwise, the saboteur would not have endangered all of my family in the hope of injuring only me.”
Her father pinched his chin. “True. The accident might have befallen any or every one of my household. There was no guarantee Lizzy would be in the carriage when it happened, nor that she would hit her head and suffer amnesia.”
Elizabeth took his reasoning a step further, glorying in the quickness with which her mind cooperated and drew conclusions.
Blessed relief! “It seems increasingly possible that no sinister motive was implied at all, in which case, I am safe to investigate without any unnecessary concern for my safety.”
Mr. Darcy snapped. “I cannot allow you to risk your life like this.”
“It is more likely I am not risking anything at all — only my time and intellect. And if this exercise nudges my mind in the right direction, I stand to gain everything I lost. I see nothing but benefits.”
“And I, the danger.”
She wanted to hug Mr. Darcy … and strangle him. If this was what love was, then the contrary emotions plaguing her since the accident were proof of her heart’s steadfastness.
Or — another possibility — this conflict of interest would reveal a side of Mr. Darcy she had not previously known. If her findings led to nothing more than testing his true character, then it was time well spent and effort wisely expended.
Lifting her chin, Elizabeth met his stare … glare. “I will not be intimidated, Mr. Darcy. Not by anyone, and certainly not by you.”
His nostrils flared. “Well do I know it, dash it all. Your courage always rises to the occasion.”
He did not say it as a compliment, but Elizabeth took great pleasure in understanding it as one anyway. Bobbing a curtsy, she said, “Thank you.”
His eyes narrowed at her, and a growly sound emanated from his throat.
But the corners of his lips twitched.
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache pressing against skull. The amnesia had not changed Elizabeth’s character in the least. She was every bit as intrepid and bold and … and stubborn as she had ever been.
He wanted to strangle her … and hold her.
Elizabeth’s determination to poke into the sabotage might stir up a hornets’ nest. He could not leave her to investigate alone. It altered his plans. He would need to stay near to offer his protection when he ought to be riding to London in search of a treatment to heal her condition.
Blast the woman!
He would have to write to Richard. His cousin, the colonel, would request leave and join them from London posthaste if the message was urgent. Darcy would ensure its urgency.
Elizabeth would not like having two bodyguards following her just as she had resisted every other suggestion he had made.
Headstrong woman.
He would make one more plea, then Lord help her. Holding his hands in front of him, he said, “Allow me to help you.”
Her eyes flashed. “I assure you, Mr. Darcy, I am perfectly capable of solving this mystery on my own. I have not lost my mind … not yet. I am not mad or incapable.”
One more plea. “I never meant to imply you were. I only want to keep you safe from harm.”
She jutted out her chin. She was so stubborn.
And oh, how he adored her.