and she bit her lip to prevent a whine from escaping. For the thousandth time, she shuddered, breathing deeply to avoid bursting into sobs, and wrenched her thoughts to Phillips.
Coherency was no longer an option. She walked in a cloud of pain and misery. Vaguely she heard voices: something about Phillips sleeping now and then about departing for the Sitwell mansion where she could bathe and rest. Darcy was there, naturally, lovingly guiding her to the carriage, but it was all a blur. Strangely, she noted that the carriage was immaculate. No evidence of Phillips's blood or the dirt from the ground. She remembered sitting here on the interminable ride into Staveley and staring with rapt interest at several leaves and pebbles which had fallen onto the seat and floor. Now they were gone and her mind experienced a leap of panic wondering what she would now focus her attention on.
She looked through a long tunnel with no light at the end. Weariness and physical discomfort ruled her, with perception distorted and sounds muted. Meaning was skewed, rationality altered. Someone was talking to her, but she could not recognize the voice. It was a man and now he held her hands, caressing gently with soft fingers and warm strength. It was pleasant but faintly disturbing as images flashed in her mind of hands touching her. Hands very different from these, rough and dirty with blunt fingers. Hands that took instead of giving. Hands that demanded and caressed with false intent. Hands that robbed her of something precious and vital to her heart and soul. Hands that stole her rings.
Her rings! She needed her rings! They were important to her, although she could not readily grasp why. And now here they were; golden glints of metal and sparkles of diamond and blue sapphire slipping over her knuckles. Large boned fingers that fluctuated from long and elegant to stubby and grimy touching her slender fingers and assaulting her precious rings.
“No!” she screamed, jerking away from the clawing hands of the thief and clutching her rings, the cool metal and hard gems digging into her palms. “You cannot take them! They are mine and I need them! No! No! No!”
“Elizabeth! Stop! Listen to me!” Darcy grabbed at her flailing arms but she screamed louder. Words now tumbled disjointedly from raving lips, her body nearly convulsing in a combined attempt to attack him and withdraw as far as possible. He had read somewhere that the cure for hysteria was to slap the person very hard, but he could not slap his wife. Instead, he fell to his knees before her thrashing body, moving in, heedless to the scratches she bestowed, and clamped her face firmly between his palms, wrenching her glazed eyes to his.
“Elizabeth, look at me,” he commanded in the coldest, most authoritative tone he could muster. She whined, fighting to withdraw but was no match for his strength. “Elizabeth Darcy, open your eyes and look at me!”
Tears were streaming down her face; the fight abruptly halting as all energy drained and she slumped, as if boneless, with a whimper. “Please,” she moaned and sobbed, “Please do not take my rings. Please do not touch me. Please do not hurt him, you cannot… hurt him… I need him, please. I… need… William, my… husband… I… need…”
“Elizabeth, look! It is me: William. I am here, my love. Focus! Hear my voice. I am here.”
Again and again, patiently and firmly he pleaded for her attention through her incoherent ramblings. Struggling had ceased, but her eyes remained dazed for several terrifying minutes. Darcy felt his panic rising, almost ready to instruct Mr. Anders to return to Staveley and Dr. Welles when she finally spoke the first lucid word.
“William?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, it is me! I am here, beloved. All is well, shhhh, hush now, my love,” he sobbed in relief.
Lizzy's hazy vision cleared and she saw finally that it
He held her tightly, rocking and swaying with the movement of the carriage, smoothing her hair as she cried and clasped him. Slowly, very slowly, she began to calm and he felt his anxiety waning. He moved back onto the seat with her in his arms, still crying but more controlled, her trembling lessening slightly.
“It is over, beloved. We are safe now. You are with me and we are safe. Hush now.” Continually he reassured, murmuring endearments and love as she gradually quieted.
Releasing a massive shudder, she stiffened briefly then wilted against his shoulder with a prolonged groan. “He… touched me, William. I cannot erase it and I feel so, so… filthy!”
“We will be at the Sitwell's soon, love. You can bathe and sleep. I will not leave you and will hold you until you forget.” He bent to look into her eyes, finding that she still evaded his gaze. “Elizabeth, I love you. Will you please look at me?”
Haltingly, she lifted her eyes to his. Darcy with monumental devotion and care, smiling tenderly; Elizabeth with torment and shame. He cupped her cheek, caressing away her tears. “It is over, my heart. No need to fear. I love you.” He bent and brushed her lips fleetingly.
“He hurt me, William. I… hurt,” she whispered against his lips, Darcy withdrawing an inch to see her anguished eyes.
He frowned. “What? Where? Your bottom?”
She nodded, staring at him with intent fear. “Yes, a little. My legs and feet, too. And…” She swallowed, Darcy's alarm rising. “William,” she squeaked, tears filling her eyes yet again, “I am having pains, sometimes, in my belly.”
Darcy paled, heart constricting as if outwardly squeezed. “Oh God!” His hand instantly reached to cradle the small bulge of their son, so warm and soft. Elizabeth was trembling anew, lips quivering as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. His mind raced without coherent thought aside from the murderous wish to run back to Victor's corpse and fill it with a dozen more pistol holes.
The carriage halted at that moment, forestalling any further words. Darcy glanced up, realizing they were at Reniswahl Hall. As quickly as the panic rose with her words, he shoved it down, command naturally falling over his shoulders. Pressing his lips tight, he kissed her forehead and then fiercely stared into her troubled eyes.
“It will be fine, Elizabeth. I promise. Our son is fine.”
Briskly and with cool capability, he leapt from the carriage, scanning the front of the Hall. Rory and Julia Sitwell were descending the stairs with concern written all over their features. Darcy spared no time with pleasantries.
“Rory, Elizabeth needs a physician, now. She is having abdominal pains. Julia, I need a comfortable bed, hot water for bathing, and a clean nightgown.” He did not wait for an answer, turning to the carriage while Rory barked orders to a servant. Carrying Elizabeth in his arms, Darcy followed Julia to a large, airy bedchamber. A flurry of activity ensued, all the required items provided in record time while Darcy stood aside holding his numb wife, eyes never leaving her face.
“Mr. Darcy, the bath is ready and the physician should be on his way soon,” Julia said. “Can I help?”
“No, thank you, Julia. I will care for her and ring if I need assistance. Send the doctor the moment he arrives.”
Lizzy murmured a weary thank you, Julia squeezing her arm then hastily departing. Finally Darcy relinquished her onto a sofa and began removing her filthy clothing, tossing the garments in a far corner to be disposed of later.
“Beloved, tell me about the pains.”
“They started after I fell, when… he…” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before resuming, “They are not overly painful and intermittent, but it scares me, William. The book said pains are not right until closer to the end.”
“It also said stress can bring on labor pains, Elizabeth. I remember that. Today assuredly qualifies.” He had most of her clothing off, only her chemise remaining. He held her gaze, speaking calmly as he untied the ribbons to her undergarment, “Do you feel any bleeding? Has the baby been moving?”
“No bleeding, I do not think, and he has been active. He is now.”
Darcy placed his hand over her bared belly, their child lazily flipping under his palm. Despite his fears and anxiety, he could not resist smiling. He bent for a kiss, caressing her gently. “He is strong, my love, and feels healthy and unperturbed.” He lifted his eyes with a smile, meeting Elizabeth's. She was watching him with a strange expression, pale and haunted. He frowned, rising hastily to clasp her chin with his fingers, studying her disturbed countenance. “What is it? Are you in pain now?”
She shook her head, staring. “I… William, do you still want… Are you repulsed by what he… his hands
