Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World by Abigail Reynolds Page A

prefers it this way. You need have no concern."
    Georgiana
lifted her chin. "Thank you. That will be all."
    The
door had barely closed behind him when Elizabeth dropped her napkin on the
table and pushed her chair back. "I do not care if I am well provided for.
I have lived as the daughter of a country gentleman of no particular means, and
I would have no difficulty returning to that state. Ihave no need for new pianofortes, expensive gifts, music masters and
paid companions. I will thank you to recall it." Her skirts rustled as she
rose, turning her back as she left on Georgiana's frozen countenance.
    The
day turned to twilight, and twilight to full dark. Elizabeth grew more hopeless
as each hour passed, wondering whether she had realized the truth of her feelings
for Darcy too late. The house was silent; even the footmen and the cook's boys
were out searching by lantern light. There was nothing she could do but fret.
Mrs. Reynolds quietly brought a glass of wine and set it beside her, but it
remained untouched.
    Hearing
a noise outside, Elizabeth hurried to see if there was any news.
    Through
the door she heard Darcy's irritable voice. "Leave off . I will walk
in." Tears of relief sprang to her eyes as she opened the door.
    By
the light of hand-held lanterns she could make out his familiar figure,
standing beside a horse she did not recognize and holding its saddle for
support, while three men stood around him. His coat was torn and muddy.
    She
hurried down the steps. "Are you hurt?"
    "It
is nothing." He let go of the horse and one of the men moved closer, as if
ready to support him. Darcy turned a glare on him. "I can walk."
    Elizabeth
caught the manservant's eye. "Gentlemen, if you will be so kind as to assist
Mr. Darcy to his bedchamber," she said in a firmer voice than she would
have thought herself capable of at that moment.
    "I
need no assistance."
    She
could see he was barely able to stay upright. It would take a substantial
injury to bring him to this state. "Nonetheless, you will accept it, if
only to humour me."
    Darcy
frowned, but suffered two of the men to support his arms. Theymade
slow progress, Elizabeth following after with pained concern as she saw how
stiffly he held himself. It was a struggle to keep her distance when she wanted
nothing more than to throw her arms around him.
    It
seemed an eon before the little procession, now joined by Mrs. Reynolds,
reached Darcy's bedroom. Mrs. Reynolds darted ahead to turn down the bed, then
assisted the men as they eased Darcy onto it. He was no longer making even a
pretence of independence.
    Mrs.
Reynolds hovered over him. "Where is your injury, Mr. Darcy?"
    He
gestured to his left side, wincing as the men tugged off his boots.
    Ferguson,
Darcy's valet, appeared and shooed them aside.
    The
housekeeper said, "The apothecary has been sent for, sir, but we will need
to expose the wound for cleansing."
    "Do
what you must," Darcy said irritably, "but I need no crowd
present."
    Mrs.
Reynolds, looking disapproving, dismissed the servants, apart from Ferguson.
Darcy's eyes turned to Elizabeth. "You should not be here,
Elizabeth."
    She
came forward then and sat on the bed at his right side, tracing the lines of
his countenance with her eyes. "Please do not send me away. I have been so
worried." She laid her hand on his, and thought her heart might break when
he turned his hand over to grasp hers. Perhaps it was not too late. Tears
started in her eyes, and their gazes locked, at least until Ferguson began to
peel away his riding coat from his injured side. Then Darcy clenched his teeth,
looking as if he could barely hold back a cry.
    His
shirt was stained with blood, both the rich red of fresh blood and a dried
brown crust around the edge. A rent in the fabric revealed torn flesh, but how
extensive Elizabeth could not tell. Darcy's breath hissed through his teeth.
    Mrs.
Reynolds materialized on the other side of the bed with a glass half filled
with amber liquid. "Mr. Darcy, I