Darcy's Passions (48 page)

“I love you, Elizabeth; of course, I came. I will not lose you again.” He pulled her close. “I must get you out of here. Put your arms around my neck and hold on no matter what.” Darcy scooped her in his arms, holding her tightly to him with one arm and using the other to pull the two of them to safety. He was scared; he was
terrified—
he could not do this, but he must or Elizabeth might die. Perspiration filled his eyes—stinging them, but he would not blink—would not lose focus. He moved slowly up the precarious, weather-beaten side of the cliff, using splintered logs and roots for support. He pulled their weight up—inch-by-inch—often dodging rocks he loosened, covering Elizabeth's head defensively, as debris plunged like bullets at his head. Working as fast as he could, he traversed the muddy, narrow pathway leading to the top. After several intense moments, covered in snow, sweat, and mud, they emerged over the rock's surface. Frantically, Darcy ran his free hand up and down each of her arms and legs to look for protruding bones. Finding none, he held her there, rocking Elizabeth in his arms as he regained his breath.

Finally, with tears stinging his eyes and silent prayers being offered to Heaven, he wrapped Elizabeth in his greatcoat and carried her down the rock's flat surface to where Cerberus waited. She said no more than his name when he picked her up the first time, and now she buried her face into his chest as he carried her to safety; her heart beat as if in his chest; the pain of it clutched his own; he wanted to sob for his loss, but he could not give up hope. He caressed her head and repeated,“I love you.”

Elizabeth allowed him to release her long enough to place her on Cerberus's back. He forcibly swung up into the saddle behind her and settled her in his arms once again, the tightness with which she clung to his neck being the only tension in her body; otherwise,
Elizabeth's body drooped and withered in his embrace. He wrapped the coat around her and turned the horse toward Pemberley.

 

Georgiana was out the main door when she saw him ride into the courtyard. “Oh, my God, Fitzwilliam, is she hurt?” she gasped at her brother's appearance and the bundled body of Elizabeth.

“I do not know, Georgiana.” He slid off the horse, still carrying his wife. Irrationally needing to somehow protect her, he lifted her closer to him, afraid if he loosened his grip, Elizabeth might slip away from him forever. He quickened his steps, nearly staggering up the stairs and heading towards his private quarters. He took the steps two at a time. “Send Mr. Shepherd after the physician. Tell him to hurry! She fell over the precipice!”

Exhausted from his efforts, Darcy leaned heavily against the door, his weight swinging it wide. Kicking open the door, Darcy carried her to his bedchamber and laid her gently back on the pillows. He pried her fingers from around his neck to lay her down completely and to examine how fragile she seemed. “Mrs. Reynolds,” he screamed. As much as he could, he again checked Elizabeth's arms, back, and legs to look for injuries. Finding nothing evident, he removed his neck cloth, poured some water from the pitcher into the basin, and began to bathe her face and hands with it. His heart raced; she breathed, but Elizabeth did not move nor did she open her eyes. All the time he gently called her name and repeated his love for her; prayers came and went along with anger at how easily he could lose her. He lost everyone he ever loved; he could not lose Elizabeth, too.

The housekeeper entered the room. “What may I do, Master Fitzwilliam?”

“I need clean water and bandages,” he snapped.

“Yes, Sir.” In a fit of frenzy she ran from the room.

In a little over a half hour, Mr. Spencer, the physician, entered the room followed closely by Georgiana.While Mr. Spencer completed his examination, Georgiana convinced Darcy to go to Elizabeth's dressing room and change his clothes. He did so, reluctantly,
not able to abandon the scene—the hurt and the anger—which played out there earlier. If only he did not let her leave, she would not be injured and lying helpless in his bed. How could he be so stupid? His insecurities compounded by those Elizabeth felt as Pemberley's mistress could cost him the woman he loved. He touched her brush on the dresser, and the sadness enveloped him.

 

Some time later, Georgiana knocked lightly on the door.“Fitzwilliam, Mr. Spencer would like to speak with you.” He wiped his eyes quickly on his shirtsleeve and found the doctor.

“Mrs. Darcy has no broken bones, which is the good news. From the multiple scratches and bruises, it appears she slid down the surface rather than falling freely. An impact from that height would have caused more severe injuries. She did hit her head and will probably spend several days sleeping most of the time; these types of injuries can be serious, Mr. Darcy. Your wife may not recover right away, but Mrs. Darcy is young, and I, truthfully, expect her to have no serious complications. Someone should stay with her at all times until she is conscious.When she does come around, she will not be able to stand on her left ankle until the swelling goes down.There are various cuts and bruises, which will need attending. Have her maid bathe her thoroughly and dress the wounds.”

“No, I will do it, Mr. Spencer.” Darcy's insistence surprised the doctor, but he would not argue with a man of prominence in such a matter.“Did my wife say anything, Mr. Spencer?”

“Just your name, Mr. Darcy.” The man hesitated.“I have known you, Mr. Darcy, since your birth; may I make an observation?”

Not taking his eyes from Elizabeth's delicate body lying on his bed, Darcy absentmindedly nodded.

“Although we must watch her carefully, I suspect your wife has no major injuries. A bad headache and a sore ankle is a little price to pay for such a fall as what your sister described.Those will easily heal; why she was outside for so long on such a day as this may take longer to heal.” He patted Darcy on the shoulder as he prepared his bag to leave. “I will come to check on Mrs. Darcy in three days
unless things change and you need me before then. I will leave you several draughts for pain; once she is awake, she may need them.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spencer.” Darcy allowed himself to breathe again. He kissed Georgiana's forehead as she caressed his hand. “Without you . . . .” he whispered, but he did not finish his thought. Trancelike, he turned back into his room and closed the door. Georgiana knew, without being told, to order more hot water and bandages to be brought to her brother's room.

Darcy set about the necessary charge of cleaning Elizabeth's wounds. He placed a screen around the bed to protect her from the view of others. So fragile looking, he did not want to move her anymore than was necessary so he went to her room and found her sewing scissors and began to cut the clothes from Elizabeth's body. He talked to her the whole time, describing what he was doing, telling her of his love, of her beauty, and of his sorrow for hurting her. He prayed out loud, thanking God for sparing her life.Then he used the warm water and gentle strokes of the cloth to bathe the dirt caked on her arms and legs. Finally, he dressed the wounds, which were deep enough for infection and needed attention. He doubled the counterpane over her body and then collapsed in the chair next to the bed. He took her limp hand in his and brushed the hair from her face.As he sat back in the chair, tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and the sobs finally smothered his chest. “Stay with me, Lizzy,” he whispered.

 

Exhausted, Darcy drifted in and out of sleep, but the dreams were filled with images of Elizabeth's frail body lying on the rocky ledge and the anger on her face when she stormed from the room.When morning came again, Georgiana appeared to check on Elizabeth's progress as well as that of her brother.

Rousing him by touching his shoulder, she said, “Fitzwilliam, you should get something to eat. I will sit with Elizabeth.”

“I cannot leave her, Georgiana. I hurt her—something I swore to God I would never do. I am the most wretched of men. It should be I lying there or worse.”

“She would not want that, Brother. Elizabeth loves you.”

“With her last words to me in this house she told me she never wanted to see me again. I cannot live without her.”

“Elizabeth did not mean what she said.You hurt her so she had to hurt you to be even; you were like children playing some game which neither of you could win. It was your name she called when the doctor was here; it is you she loves even now.You cannot help Elizabeth if you are unwell yourself. Please, Fitzwilliam, go downstairs and eat something.Then you can come back to tend to her.”

Darcy hesitatingly agreed, swearing to be gone no longer than ten minutes. Before he left the room, he adjusted the counterpane, knowing Elizabeth would be embarrassed if someone saw her undressed. Georgiana took his seat and Elizabeth's hand; as he left, Darcy heard his sister talking softly to her, professing her affection for Elizabeth and begging her to come back to them.

 

He gulped down some hot rolls and butter, washing them down with some coffee, knowing anything more would hurt his stomach. Darcy just left the morning room to return to his chambers when he heard Georgiana calling him. “Fitzwilliam, come quick! Please hurry!”

Taking the stairs two and three at a time, he rounded the corner to find Georgiana on her way to find him.“She is awake. Elizabeth calls your name, Brother.”

In a fraction of a second, Darcy was kneeling beside the bed holding her hand and brushing the hair from her face. “Lizzy, I am here. I am here, Lizzy.”

Her eyes fluttered—opened and closed—but Elizabeth managed to say, “Fitzwilliam.” He kissed her hand.“You found me.”

“I love you, Lizzy. You are my life.Where you are, I will always
—always
come for you.”

The effort of her thoughts made it difficult for her to put the words together she wanted to say. “I love you, Mr. Darcy.” She attempted to smile. “I cannot sleep without you. I need to sleep, Fitzwilliam.”

“Shush, Lizzy, I am here.” He gingerly crawled in the bed beside her, fearing his touch might hurt her more. Elizabeth pulled his arm across her body and closed her eyes. He too closed his and dreamed as he always did—he dreamed of her. Georgiana, watching from the hall, pulled the door shut, knowing
real love
once more lived at Pemberley.

It was another four and twenty hours before Darcy emerged from the room again. Elizabeth was alert and wanted something to eat.“I lay awake beside her for hours, Georgiana, just watching the breath slide in and out of Elizabeth's body,” he told his sister when she came to his room. “I made a pact with God—give me Elizabeth, and he could have everything else.The money—the house—it all means nothing without her.”

“God wants you and Elizabeth together, Brother. He has plans for you.” His sister's sage-like words brought him comfort.

 

Later that day, he gently carried Elizabeth to his tub and bathed her more thoroughly than he had while still wrapped in the counterpane of his bed. She winced as the hot water seeped into the many cuts and scratches on her arms and legs, and he cautiously touched her sensitive skin. Elizabeth so filled his life, Darcy never allowed himself to see her as a woman in need of protection. In fact, he viewed her often as his protector from the grief he experienced in his life. He came so close to losing her. Luck had once been his—he found her when he needed Elizabeth in his life.
What if she turned from him now? What if his pride pushed her away?
He always observed her strength—her resolve. Foolishly, he never saw Elizabeth as someone he needed to not only protect from the world, but also from himself. She gave him her heart completely, and he nearly destroyed her. Miserable, he dutifully washed the curves of her body with the sponge, thinking she was vulnerable—vulnerable
only to his censure. His pride would hurt her no more. Finishing, he helped her dress and carried her back to her bed.“If you are not careful, Mr. Darcy,” she teased,“you will put Hannah out of a job.” Her arms embraced his neck once again, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I would gladly spend the rest of my life tending to you, Lizzy.” Darcy kissed her cheek as she again buried her face into his chest. When he laid her back on the pillow, she pulled him to her and kissed him tenderly. “Please, Fitzwilliam.”

“Elizabeth, I do not want to hurt you.”

“You have never hurt me in this bed. I need to know you still love me. I cannot live without you, Fitzwilliam.”

“Elizabeth, do what you want. I never meant to question you. I built up a picture of this perfect house—this perfect marriage—a perfect wife.” He sobbed as she cradled his head to her abdomen.“I planned everything; except you had ideas I did not plan; I controlled everything for so long, I have difficulty allowing anyone else their due. You did not deserve my wrath. I do not want to destroy your love for me, Elizabeth. Can you love me again as you did before?”