Chapter 12 #2
His valet’s voice pushed through the torture and confusion. A sensation of pins sticking his hands and feet made it difficult to move. The sense of thirst was consuming, but his stomach reacted violently to even the thought of drinking, although there was nothing left in his stomach by now.
He opened his eyes and saw Mr Warren bent over him, his face etched with deep lines of worry. “Sir, you ought to have rung for me. How long have you been ill like this?”
He actually felt less terrible now than he had hours ago, judging by the sunlight and shadows. Perhaps he had fallen asleep at some point rather than just drift through a delirium of agonising pain. He was still on the floor, but he gestured with his hand and his valet helped him to sitting.
“Poison,” he choked, pointing to the tea tray with his other hand. He did not want anyone to drink it or even touch it.
“What? Are you certain?”
Darcy tried to answer, and it took a few tries. “Arsenic, I think.”
Warren’s face paled. “Did you send for tea last night? No one told me.”
He shook his head. “Willow bark…for Miss Bennet.”
Warren helped him to stand, and he wobbled on his feet, the sensation of being pricked with pins making it hard to keep his balance.
“You drank an infusion meant for your future wife, but it was poisoned?”
Of course, it sounded incredulous, but now he knew what Julia was capable of. “Send for a constable and a magistrate,” he said in a rasping voice. His throat was still hot, but it did not scorch like last night.
“I will in a moment, and for a surgeon, too, but we will have little luck getting them here with the races on. Anyone in those positions will be at Epsom Downs. It could be hours, sir.”
Darcy nodded, and it made him dizzy.
“Do you know who made the tea?” Warren asked as he bustled around the room, setting it to rights and finding him clean clothes. He had sweated through and been sick on everything he wore yesterday. “How much did you drink?”
Not enough to kill him. “One sip. I would have been dead if I had finished the cup.” He swallowed roughly. Queasy was not a severe enough term for how he felt. “I think Julia Metcalfe tampered with it when she learnt her mother sent it to Miss Bennet.”
Warren gave a grim nod, then poured him a glass of water from the pitcher. Darcy looked at it askance. Julia was capable of murder, and she would be as angry with him as with Elizabeth.
“I brought it myself,” Warren said gently. “It has not been out of my sight.”
Of course it had not, but being poisoned was not a fright to soon be overcome. He drank, and his stomach clenched in protest whilst his throat sighed in relief.
“Help me get dressed,” he asked, with a gesture for Warren to come near and help him.
“Dressed?” he repeated, incredulous. “Sir, the only place you are going is back to bed. Someone poisoned you!”
He gestured again. “Warren, someone tried to poison Elizabeth Bennet. Do you honestly think I am going to lie in bed?”
This stirred him, and his valet helped him dress. By the time they were done, he no longer felt disoriented. But that did not mean he did not feel terrible.
“Where is everyone? Is Miss Bennet safe?”
“I believe everyone has gone to the races, save for Lady Metcalfe and her daughter. I do not know where Miss Bennet is, but she did not leave with the others for Epsom.”
Darcy nodded, and at least this time, he did not feel like he would topple over. “I must find Miss Bennet. Send for a magistrate, a constable, whomever can be found.”
“And a surgeon?” Warren added.
“If you like.” He had no intention of sitting in bed and waiting for one. Arsenic poisoning was pretty similar both in its effect and its method of cure. He had already vomited every particle in his body, anyway. If what he had drunk was enough to kill him, he would have died by now.
At least, that was what he assumed.
As he went into the corridor, thirst was an ever-present thought. His heartbeat was a distressingly irregular rhythm. His stomach was still bilious, but he no longer felt on the verge of death. Besides, the extremity of this torture was nothing. He had to get Elizabeth away from Julia Metcalfe.
He did not bother surreptitiously going through the dressing room adjacent to Elizabeth’s room. He boldly knocked on her door in the main passageway. After waiting and knocking again, he tested the knob and found it unlocked.
“Elizabeth?” he called. He entered but it was empty. Even her trunks were gone. Maybe she was walking outside. He did not want her alone until Julia was detained.
The stairs were more of a trial than he thought they would be.
It was a good thing Warren could not see him.
At least his mind was now clear whilst his body fought the effects of the arsenic.
He asked the footman if he had seen Elizabeth, and was told she walked out with Lady Metcalfe a few hours ago.
He did not bother with hat and gloves, only strode out the hall door. It was later in the day than he realised. He must have spent twelve hours in delirious anguish.
But Elizabeth was not in sight of the house, nor was Lady Metcalfe.
He circled Woodcote twice, with wider and wider sweeps, but did not see her.
A building frustration and sense of unease filled him.
On his way back inside, he was already in a foul mood as he walked around the house and came face to face with Julia Metcalfe.
“I saw you from the house,” she said dulcetly and with a smile. “You looked like you needed company.”
Darcy exhaled noisily and gripped her arm, walking her backward toward the wall and pushing her against it. “You tried to poison her!”
“I beg your pardon!” she cried. “If you want to put your hands on me, you may try a different way, but I have no objection to the wall.”
It took all of his control not to squeeze her tighter. “You poisoned me instead, but I could forgive that easier than I can forgive you for trying to murder the woman I love.”
“Murder?” she repeated, struggling to pull her arm away. “No one has tried to murder anyone. And what do you mean you were poisoned?”
Was she truly confused, or a skilled actress? “Did you put arsenic in the tea?”
“What tea?” she cried. “And why would I poison you?”
“It was intended for Miss Bennet. It made me ill, but not enough to kill me.”
Her defiant expression fell, and in a less confident tone, she said, “That is a vile thing to accuse me of.”
His anger flared. “As though you have not been trying to harm her all week! Where is Elizabeth?”
“My mother said Miss Bennet wanted to go home,” she taunted.
“She did not want to wait for you nor travel with us. Good riddance, I say. My mother sent her to Epsom to travel post. She even offered to send a man with her, but Miss Bennet refused. She left in a hurry, I hear. Perhaps she does not want you.”
A shot of fear hit him as he thought of Elizabeth’s missing trunks, and he saw the triumph in Julia’s eyes and instantly felt ashamed.
Of course, their disagreement had not sent Elizabeth flying home to avoid him.
Her trunks had more likely been put in his own carriage than she had run away from him.
He had every reason to be secure of the depth and constancy of her feelings for him.
Even if she wanted to go to Longbourn without him, even if she wanted to end their engagement, she would have told him. She would have broken his heart delicately and in person, not snuck off at dawn.
But where was she?
Julia brought a hand over his, where he held her arm in place, stroking his fingers. “She left you, and I am very willing to console you.”
“I am finished being polite and keeping every suspicion to myself,” he bit out. “Miss Bennet is missing, and you tried to poison her.”
His grip on her arm tightened as she cried out, “It was not me!”
“You threw a vase at her, did you not? You saw us down there and grew angry that I wanted her and not you.”
“No.” Julia looked away, and Darcy forced her to meet his eye.
She huffed. “I did not push over the vase…but I knew you were there. My mother told me. She saw you kissing in the entrance hall. She said if you stole away to kiss Miss Bennet, then you must be more easily swayed by female company than we thought. That I should try harder with you and I would eventually tempt you to more than kissing, then you could be coaxed to marry me.”
Darcy’s hold on her arm slackened. Had he been wrong this entire time? “And the carriage? What did your mother have to do with that?”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “A fool whipped the horse. It was an accident.”
Icy dread seeped into his bones as the truth dawned on him: he had made a terrible mistake. “You were not on the carriage for the second race. Why not?”
“My mother told me not to watch the Oaks Stakes from the carriage—but she did not hit the horse to make Miss Bennet fall. She just told me not to pay her much notice. It was right to draw Mrs Tessier and myself away from Miss Bennet.” She scowled.
“It was better to be seen amongst friends without her. A woman like her does not deserve the notice. My mother was not even there. It was a young man.”
Or it was an older woman dressed in trousers. “And the jib-door? That was your idea, and your mother helped you.”
Julia huffed. “Yes! I yelled down to draw Miss Bennet in, then locked the servants’ door whilst my mother blocked the jib-door. I did not know you were already on the stairs. We only thought to hide her away so you and I could spend time together.”
She rested her other hand on his chest with a sultry gaze, and he smacked it away. “I swear, if you touch me again or lie to me, I will strike you.” Julia blanched, and he felt guilty, but Elizabeth was in danger. “You are desperate to marry; is it because you expect a child?”