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

have laudanum for you."
    He
grimaced. "I want no laudanum."
    "Sir,
you will need it for when we clean your wound."
    "No.
It dulls my mind." Lines of pained etched his face.
    Mrs.
Reynolds looked at Elizabeth, who held out her hand for the glass.
    She
smoothed a stray lock of hair from his sweat-beaded forehead. "Please,
Fitzwilliam. It would ease my mind to know you are in less discomfort."
    He
turned his dark eyes to her, and she squeezed his hand. "Very well," he
said grudgingly. Raising his head, he took the glass and drained it. "Vile
stuff ."
    "Thank
you," Elizabeth said softly. She wiped the moisture from his brow with her
handkerchief.
    He
closed his eyes, but she could tell by his clenched jaw his pain had not eased.
    "Is
there anything I can do, anything I can bring you for your comfort?" she
asked.
    "Talk
to me."
    "Very
well. What shall I talk about?" The only subject on her mind was not one
she could raise in front of servants.
    "Anything."
He winced as he drew in a deep breath.
    "I
hate your horse."
    The
shadow of a smile crossed his lips. "Tell me something new."
    "That
is new. I was always frightened of him, but now I hate him as well."
    "I
am glad to see ... " He coughed, half-rising as the movement pained him.
"I am glad to see you do not hesitate to speak your mind."
    "I
do not, and I still hate your horse."
    He
opened his eyes and looked at her. "I could find another horse, but any
horse I choose is likely to be spirited. I prefer them that way."
    She
surprised herself by lifting his hand and brushing a kiss across his
dirt-stained knuckles. "Are there no spirited horses who know when to
listen to their riders?"
    "No
doubt there are." He brought their clasped hands back to his chest.
    "Are
there any further points you wish to argue?" Despite his words, he did not
sound troubled.
    She
could feel his heart beating rapidly underneath her hand. If only the laudanum
would take effect, they could discover the extent of his wound.
    But
what if it were something she preferred not to know? What if it was even now
too late? She distracted herself by leaning down to kiss his cheek, then whispered
archly in his ear, "You prefer it when I argue with you."
    "My
secret is discovered." His speech was beginning to slur.
    Elizabeth
heard the snipping sound of scissors cutting cloth. Mrs.
    Reynolds
exposed the wound and began to apply wet poultices to it. Darcy tensed at each
touch, attempting to watch the proceedings.
    "May
I assist?" Elizabeth asked.
    Mrs.
Reynolds shook her head without looking up. "Distraction will help more
than anything else."
    Elizabeth
moved closer to Darcy and clasped his hand in both her own.
    "Where
were you when this happened?"
    "Near
Curbar Edge." He winced.
    She
put her hand to his face. "Fitzwilliam, look at me. Try to remain still."
    "I
am ... " his breath caught. " ... at your command."
    "How
did you injure yourself?" The metallic odour of blood permeated the air.
    "Too
close an acquaintance with one of the boulders you so admire.
    Hurricane
took a sudden dislike to a wildcat."
    "A
wildcat?" She had not realized such animals lived in the hills of
Derbyshire.
    "Yes.
It inspected me afterward, but decided I was insufficiently appetizing to be
worth its trouble. But it was enough to convince me to begin walking
back."
    His
mind was evidently beginning to wander. Elizabeth glanced down and gasped. The
wound encompassed most of his side, fragments of torn muscle showing through,
and crusted blood was everywhere.
    Mrs.
Reynolds said, "It is not too deep, from what I can see. I suspect he has
lost a great deal of blood, but I do not believe the wound itself is grave.
    If
it does not fester, it should heal well."
    Elizabeth
let out a sobbing breath of relief. Darcy did not stir, his even breathing
indicating he was asleep. Now she no longer fought to hold back tears, despite
the presence of Mrs. Reynolds and Ferguson. She could not bear to look at the
ragged wound.
    A
knock sounded at the door.