Chapter Fourteen #2
Their playing was interrupted by a footman, who carried an invitation to a gathering at Lucas Lodge the following evening.
This, predictably, returned Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to their favorite topic, the quality of families in the neighborhood about them.
Only Bingley spoke in defense of the locals, and Darcy imagined they all suspected why.
The evening proceeded in a similar vein and, despite the call for cards, Darcy retired early.
He would not admit as much, but he desired to rise with the dawn and ride out before breakfast. He could only hope that Miss Elizabeth would be at their usual meeting place.
He longed to apologize for Richard’s behavior, and dreaded the notion that she might be too displeased to want any more to do with them.
His thoughts on her expressive features, on the way her eyes seemed to glow when she spoke to him, carried Darcy to sleep.
The ringing clatter of shattered glass startled him back awake.
He jerked upright, blinking in the dark.
A shout sounded.
Disoriented, Darcy scrambled from bed. He was in his room in Bingley’s rented manor house, he realized.
He stumbled to the wardrobe, clattering into the door as he reached the large piece of furniture much sooner than he would have at Pemberley.
Grimacing, glad his palms had met the stout wood before his face could, Darcy yanked out a robe.
Another shout sounded, and a third. Richard?
Muted by distance, feet pounded up the staircase.
Darcy donned the robe as he pushed open the hall door, light from the sconce without spilling in. Cresting the staircase, men pointed down the hall, shouting. All members of Netherfield’s staff.
Two grappling forms spilled from Richard’s bedchamber. Darcy raced forward, not realizing he had no weapon to hand until he noted the cudgels and pistols the staff carried.
Richard tumbled to the ground with his assailant as two more roughly dressed men surged into the hall.
One spotted Darcy, his eyes going wide. The other grabbed the first’s sleeve, gesturing to the mob of armed men bearing down on them.
They scuttled back into Richard’s bedchamber, most of the footmen and other staff streaming in after them.
Several others dipped down to pull up both Richard and his attacker.
Bingley reached Darcy’s side. “What the devil is going on?”
“Another attack on my cousin,” Darcy replied, though he felt that quite obvious.
The competent, and Darcy suspected military, staff quickly secured all three would-be murderers, dragging the two who’d run back into the bedroom out to rejoin their comrade. His back to Darcy and Bingley, Richard dusted at his nightshirt.
“What should we do with them, Mr. Darcy?” one of the men holding the prisoners asked, directing his words at Richard.
“What’s the hour?”
“Nearly dawn, sir. They caught us changing the watch.”
Richard nodded. “As they likely intended.”
“We will do a staggered changeover henceforth. I apologize for the lapse.”
“No harm done.” Richard shrugged. “I should have thought of it myself.” He gestured to the three men, two of whom slumped, gazes turned floorward, while the third struggled against the men who held him. “Take them to the cellar. I will be down shortly to question them.”
“You can’t keep us here,” the struggling man, Darcy thought the one who’d tussled with Richard, cried. “You aren’t the law.”
“I believe you will find in this case, I am,” Richard said mildly. “Take them away.”
Darcy held his peace until the men were marched down the stairs before demanding, “What do you mean, question them?”
“I mean, question them.” Richard turned, revealing a cut high on one cheekbone. Small, but leaking a trail of blood.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley’s voice said behind Darcy. “You are hurt.” She rushed past in a flurry of cotton, lace, and a peacock-toned dressing gown. Halting before Richard, she reached to touch his face.
“Caroline,” Mrs. Hurst said sharply from down the hall. “Leave Mr. Darcy be. I am certain his valet will see to his needs.”
Miss Bingley’s arm dropped, but she did not turn. “Yes. Certainly. I apologize, Mr. Darcy. The sight of the harm done to you overcame my reason.”
“And your first instinct was to aid me?”
She shrugged, peacock-silk shimmering. “You are bleeding.”
Richard caught her hand and bowed over it. “I thank you for your concern.”
“Which she has fully expressed.” Mrs. Hurst spoke louder than Darcy felt necessary. “Come, Caroline. We must return to our chambers. It is unseemly to stand about in our nightclothes.”
“Yes, Louisa.” With a final look at Richard, Miss Bingley turned. She slipped back past Darcy and Bingley, her eyes over-bright, and went down the hall.
After frowning at her retreating form for a moment, Bingley turned to Richard. “Yes. Well. Sorry about that.”
Richard’s eyebrows rose. “You are sorry that your sister showed concern for my injury?”
“Ah, well, rather that she nearly accosted you while in her dressing gown.”
“You have odd notions as to what is offensive to a man, Bingley.” Richard grinned, then winced, touching his cheek.
“You are bleeding on your nightshirt,” Darcy informed him, for the trail of crimson ran down Richard’s face to drip from his jaw. “And you still have not clarified your intentions concerning those men.”
Richard’s gaze lingered in the direction Miss Bingley had gone. “Many women would have fainted.”
“You cannot question people in Bingley’s cellar,” Darcy said stiffly.
Richard finally focused on him. “Why, because it is not good form in a house guest?”
“If by ‘question,’ you mean ‘interrogate,’ then yes.”
Bingley turned a startled look on Darcy. “I say, do you mean he is going to torture people in my basement?”
Darcy kept his gaze locked with Richard’s. “Do I mean that?”
Richard shrugged. “I prefer ‘question.’”
“Is all well now?” Georgiana’s voice asked. “Only, I heard shouting and a scuffle, and I was—” She broke off with a squeak as they all turned to her. “Richard, you are bleeding.” Her eyes rolled back, showing the whites.
Darcy leaped forward to catch her as she slumped to the floor in a faint.
“You see?” Richard said dryly.
“Call for a maid,” Darcy snapped. Scooping up his sister, he turned back to Richard. “I must see to Georgiana, but we are not done with this matter.”
“No.” Richard sighed. “Knowing you as I do, I would not imagine we are.”
With a parting scowl, Darcy carried Georgiana back into her room.