gentle squeeze, but kept it firmly in his. “Mr. Hamilton has been injured.”
Her eyes widened in concern, but she found it difficult to tend to his words when she was aware solely of her hand enveloped in his. “Is it… serious?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “He will survive. His arm and shoulder were cut by some rocks. It is messy. I have sent for a doctor, but I can use your help until he arrives.” His eyes searched hers as he waited for an answer.
“I will do what I can.”
“I know you will.” He paused and pressed his lips tightly together before continuing. “Miss Bennet, I do not want word of this spreading. There is already
“I understand.” Elizabeth felt a strong reference to Rosalyn in his admonition. Her fears had come to fruition, although it had not been Mr. Darcy who injured himself, but Mr. Hamilton.
“Good.” He took in a deep breath. “Please do not think ill of me for asking you to help me with this. Many of our maidservants would not do well with this type of injury. In addition to having much more to do in caring for the tenants, I did not wish to impose on them, Mrs. Reynolds, or my sister.”
“I do not mind.”
He nodded slowly as he looked down briefly at their hands before finally releasing hers. He exhaled slowly. She felt he was going to say something and waited, looking at his face expectantly. She saw conflict in his face as he furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw. Finally, he said, “Let us go in, then.”
They waited no longer and entered the room. Mr. Hamilton was lying on the bed; a servant Elizabeth recognized from around Pemberley was pressing tightly against a cloth that extended from his upper arm to his shoulder. The servant nodded at Darcy and Elizabeth.
Hamilton peered up at them, grimacing at the movement, but it was quickly replaced by a weak smile. “Miss Bennet, have you come to nurse me back to health?”
Elizabeth walked over to him, glancing briefly at his bloodstained shirt. “I assume this was not another struggle with a fish!”
Hamilton laughed. “Unfortunately it was another rock!”
Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “What shall I do?”
He pointed to some clean, dry cloths and a basin of water. “I will need you to clean the wound. Mr. Peyton, here, is tightly applying pressure to help stop the flow.”
As she walked over to soak some cloths, she asked what happened.
“I was probably taking my horse too quickly down an embankment, and he tumbled, throwing me against some rocks.”
“Probably?” Darcy said incredulously. “You
“How did the horse fare?” Elizabeth asked teasingly.
“Better than me!” Hamilton said. He turned to his cousin. “I am grateful you are here, Miss Bennet, for Darcy shows me no sympathy.”
Elizabeth returned with the cloths, lifting an eyebrow at Mr. Hamilton at his comment. The servant let up pressure to allow Elizabeth the ability to cleanse the area around the gash. When he did, an excessive flow of blood poured out, causing Elizabeth to sway unsteadily. Her head began to spin when strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulders… again.
“Miss Bennet?”
“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy,” she said as she took in some deep breaths. “I did not expect it to be so…”
His face was close to hers, his eyes searching. “Pray forgive me, Miss Bennet. I should not have put you through this.”
Elizabeth waved her hand in the air. “No, no, I am well. Now.”
She took in another deep breath as she turned back to the wound and began to clean it. Her heart pounded so violently she wondered whether Mr. Darcy could hear it. He released her shoulders and walked over to a cupboard. As she saw the extent of the wound, she imagined that the doctor would be required to suture it to keep it closed.
Darcy brought over a bottle and held it over the wound. She looked up questioningly.
“Alcohol,” he said. “If you can wash away more of the blood, I will then pour this over the wound.”
They worked together well, Elizabeth savouring the close, caring presence of Mr. Darcy. While his cousin teased about how
When she inquired about the condition of the tenants’ homes, they told her that one home was in imminent danger of being flooded, but the men had been working tenaciously to divert the waters by digging trenches and building up barricades with mud and trees, which they hoped would hold as the waters approached. She also found out that the man who they presumed had been swept away was found unharmed.
When the doctor finally arrived, he ordered everyone out of the room except, of course, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth walked to the door, and just as she was about to step out, she heard the familiar sound of Mr. Darcy’s voice call out her name.
“Miss Bennet,” he said softly.
She turned toward him. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” he told her. “I could not have done it without you.”
She smiled in acknowledgement of his words and walked out. For the first time since arriving here, she thought their day of departure would come too quickly.
It had been two days since the families had sought refuge at Pemberley, and the rains finally let up, the sun making a most welcomed appearance. Everyone was delighted that the prospect of returning home was near, but they would need to wait until the waters of the river receded a great deal before it was deemed safe enough.
Mr. Hamilton remained in his room, healing nicely from his wounds. Everyone had been told he was merely not feeling well, but it was expected that he would be recovered soon. As Mr. Darcy had first relayed this news at the breakfast table the day following the accident, he stole a knowing glance at Elizabeth. She returned a sly smile at his pretence of an excuse for his cousin’s absence.
That afternoon, as the sun poured its rays through the windows, Elizabeth felt a gaiety and a joy that she had not felt in quite a few days. Each time she passed a window, she gazed out, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, and eagerly anticipated exploring Pemberley’s magnificent grounds. They had less than a week remaining, and while she knew practically every inch of Pemberley’s house, save for one very private hall, she still wished to explore the splendid grounds.
That day while Emily napped, Elizabeth made her daily visit to the families in the north wing. As she opened the doors to the wing, she stepped through and found everyone hustling about. There was much excitement.
It was joyous confusion, and someone mentioned to her that they had just received word they would likely be able to return to their homes tomorrow afternoon. Before she could even utter a word expressing her delight, she heard a shriek, and the sound of little footsteps racing down the hall captured Elizabeth’s attention.
It was Rachel, and just as the little girl was about to collide into her, Elizabeth reached down and lovingly grasped her shoulders. “What is it, little one?” she asked.
“Look out!” she squealed. “There goes Misty!”
Elizabeth turned around abruptly, seeing the grey cat slither out the door through which she just entered. “Wait here, Rachel. I will go after her!”
Elizabeth stepped out the door and closed it behind her before moving into the hall. She turned, hoping to see where the cat went. She looked across the hall that led to the playroom and saw nothing. She turned her eyes down the main hall to her left. She caught a brief glimpse of Misty scampering around the far corner. Elizabeth walked as quickly as she could, calling the cat’s name. When she came to the corner, she turned and again looked around. Her heart pounded as she considered that the cat may have gone into any room, which would certainly cause more than
