Chapter 29
Hands
It did not take them long to make their way to the room where Mr. Darcy was being housed.
It was on the first floor of the cottage. Easier to reach. But not in the way.
A young man opened the door when the Colonel knocked. He looked like he was in his early twenties, and had a distinct similarity in appearance to Mrs. Ronald. He gawked at them in surprise.
“Dennis, you can return at the strike of the hour. I shall be here until then,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
Then he turned to Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet, it is not a pretty sight. I will not hold it against you if you do not wish to see.”
“I wish to see,” Elizabeth said simply.
Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed.
They went in.
A powerful feeling seized Elizabeth as soon as she laid eyes on the man on the narrow bed.
It was Mr. Darcy.
A heavily bandaged version of him, with a purple bruise-covered face that was swollen around the eyes and nose.
She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. Tears blurred her vision. It was indeed awful!
“He stirs every now and then,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, leading her deeper into the room. “But Dr. Goodman is not sure why he has not woken yet.”
Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy’s apparition as he stepped into the room behind them. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. The man looked pale as he stared at his own broken form on the bed.
She turned back to the prone man in flesh. Mr. Darcy did not look as if he was at peace, even though he appeared to be sleeping. She felt her tears brim over and roll down her cheeks.
She could see Colonel Fitzwilliam fidgeting next to her. Then, he stepped back.
“I shall give you a moment.”
Elizabeth did not answer as the Colonel stepped out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. She could only stare at the battered gentleman on the bed.
“Please, Miss Bennet…” Mr. Darcy said softly from somewhere beside her. “I do not wish you to distress yourself.”
More tears fell from her eyes. But she did not turn away.
“Elizabeth…”
She reached out and brushed a finger against his hand. The one resting on the bed, slightly out of the confines of the quilt covering him.
A sudden strangled sound made her look at Mr. Darcy, the apparition. He was staring at his hand. The same one she was touching on his body.
“You can feel it?” she asked, hesitantly.
“Yes,” he breathed.
And then he looked at her with a wild intensity in his eyes. Elizabeth felt her cheeks flame. Her heart thudded violently in her chest.
She turned her attention to Mr. Darcy’s prone form once more and gently held more of his hand. It rested in her grasp. Unresponsive and somewhat heavy. But warm to the touch.
It was so much larger than hers…
More tears streaked down her face.
“Miss Bennet…”
They looked at each other.
Mr. Darcy raised his hand in wonder.
“I can feel you.”
And then…
—suddenly—
…he released a choking sound and grabbed at his midriff.
Elizabeth gasped in alarm.
“Mr. Darcy!”
He vanished in thin air.
Elizabeth whipped back when she felt a slight tug on her fingers. Mr. Darcy—the one on the bed—was beginning to stir. His fingers curled around hers weakly. His face twitched in pain.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth shouted. Tears continued to streak down her face.
The Colonel rushed into the room. “My God! What has happened?”
Then he stilled once his gaze fell upon Mr. Darcy… and how her fingers were wrapped around his. Something akin to pity flickered in his eyes. He sighed.
“Darcy… he, uh… he does that once or twice a day. It is nothing, Miss Bennet.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said.
She knew she sounded just as crestfallen as she felt. She turned back to Mr. Darcy.
He was not moving as much as she had believed initially. Just enough to seem as if he would come awake any moment. She let go of his hand… though his fingers clutched at hers right before she pulled them away.
“I think I shall go to bed now.”
She avoided meeting the Colonel’s eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks. Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded.
“Get some sleep, Miss Bennet. I shall see you in the morning.”