Unforgiving Temper (50 page)

“Something like what? Who will pay?”

“Grissholm!”

“For what?”

“You do not remember?”

“The last thing I can recall with any
certainty is going to my room at Peyton House; only I do not
remember actually arriving. I am curious as to how I ended up
here,” she frowned through the throbbing in her head, “because I am
certain we had agreed I would go to my uncle's house.”

Another wave of nausea swept over her and her
eyes drifted shut, causing Darcy to lean in, pressing her arm
gently.

“Elizabeth, what is it?!” He ignored the
sound of someone coming into the room until he was pulled back and
Dr. Lawrence placed a practiced hand on Elizabeth's brow.
“Lawrence?! What is it? Will she be all right? She did speak, but
she seems confused!”

“I suspect it is the effects of the trauma to
her head – a concussion most likely. It is not surprising, given
that nasty cut on her forehead.”

“She cannot remember anything.”

“That is common in these instances. A
blessing, if you ask me.”

“Is a feeble stomach common as well?”
Elizabeth whispered weakly.

“Yes, Miss Bennet, I am afraid so. But,
with any luck, it should improve in a few days.”

The doctor busied himself with checking her
bandages, then carefully removed the wrapping from her forehead.
She winced as he examined the injury.

“How bad is it?” she asked softly.

“You have eight tiny stitches in your
forehead just below the hairline. Once it has healed completely, I
do not think anyone but you will even notice. Tell me,
Miss Bennet, do you remember anything of your leaving
Lord Grissholm or coming to Burnham House?”

The stitches pulled slightly as frustration
knit her brow. “Not really. I remember it being very dark, and pain
– a lot of pain. Did I fall?”

“Yes, but that is not where all your injuries
came from. We can talk about that once you have had more rest.”

“Hmm,” she responded crossly. “And shall my
memory improve in a few days as well?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Quite often the brain
never completely recovers the events that transpired when the
injury occurred.”

“I see,” she said, “Perhaps if someone told
me what happened, it might restore my memory.”

“That is not necessarily the best
course.”

“What would be the consequences if she did
remember?” pressed Darcy.

“It is hard to say,” Lawrence hedged. “She is
young and of a strong constitution; but in cases such as this,
there is a danger to a sudden recovery of the memory. It could
induce a severe effect on the spirit that is very difficult to
overcome.”

“Dr. Lawrence, surely there is something
you can tell me. And what do you mean by 'cases such as this'?”

Dr. Lawrence pursed his lips
thoughtfully before answering. “I will do my best to give you some
idea of what happened, but we must be careful. Too much information
could be disastrous. It is a very fine line we are walking
here.”

Too intent on following Elizabeth's every
movement, Darcy did not see the pointed look his family physician
cast in his direction.

“Mr. Darcy,” Lawrence hemmed softly.
“This
is
a young lady's bedchamber and you have already
breached the bounds of propriety beyond reason. I must ask you to
leave the room and let me attend to Miss Bennet.”

“Yes, of course!” replied Darcy hesitantly,
though he did not move. His heart constricted in profound gratitude
as he looked once more at Elizabeth's pale form dwarfed by the
massive bedstead. She would live! The effects of Grissholm's
despicable attack were not entirely known, but she would live!

“Take yourself off now and I shall come find
you as soon as I am finished.”

Unable to resist, Darcy's hand reached out,
softly touching her arm once again. “Dr. Lawrence is a good
man. He shall have you well in no time.” With a final nod to the
doctor, he quitted the room, pausing for one last look at her
before reluctantly slipping into the hallway.

It did not take long for the doctor to
complete his examination.

“You have considerable bruising, and aside
from two broken ribs, there does not seem to be any internal
injury. You are a very fortunate young lady. Now, take this
compound I've prepared for you. It will not relieve your headache
completely, but it will help some. When it has taken effect, we
shall get you up for a proper wrapping. You were not in any
condition to do it right when I first saw you.”

Elizabeth obediently swallowed the bitter
medicine, then lay back on the pillows to ease the surge of pain
and queasiness the effort had generated. “My condition is what I
should like to know about, doctor,” she said softly and grimaced as
he applied a dab of pungent ointment to her head. “Please – tell me
what happened.”

Dr. Lawrence finished dressing the wound
on her head and returned the small white jar to his black leather
box in silence. Just as she began to think he had changed his mind
about telling her anything, he answered, speaking very slowly.

“Miss Bennet, as I said, your injuries
were not all caused by a fall.”

She flinched involuntarily as a memory of
grasping hands flashed through her mind. In the next moment, it was
gone and she looked anxiously at the doctor, hoping for an
explanation.

“You were assaulted – most violently.”

“Assaulted?” she whispered faintly.

“Yes. It is unclear what
Lord Grissholm's motives were, but – ”

A violent shudder went through Elizabeth.
“Lord Grissholm?!”

“I'm afraid so. Are you remembering anything
more?”

Elizabeth paused, but the images in her mind
were vague and menacing. “No, not... not anything definite.”

“Sometimes the memories come back with time
and sometimes not. In your case, it would probably be better if
they did not.”

Haunting, nightmarish images of
Lord Grissholm teased at the edges of her memory, draining
what little color she had from her face and widening her eyes with
horror. “Are you trying to tell me he…do you mean I was…?” She
couldn't bear to finish the question, too afraid of what the answer
would be.

“Compromised? Thankfully, no, my dear;
although judging by your injuries, I have no doubt that it was his
intent. From what Mr. Darcy and the Colonel described, they
arrived not a moment too soon. The important thing is, they did
arrive in time, and your virtue is still intact.”

“My
virtue
may be intact,” whispered
Elizabeth, tears filling her eyes, “and I am grateful to
Mr. Darcy and the Colonel for that; but my
reputation
is not. You know as well as I that it is the female who receives
the blame in cases such as this. Lord Grissholm will feel no
consequence and I am ruined.”

She remembered the angry edge Mr. Darcy
had tried so hard to conceal when they spoke in the park, and her
heart dropped. He had answered her plea for help and benevolently
offered his assistance to her and her family only to end up
embroiled in a violent scandal – something she was certain his
private nature could not abide. He had said before that he made it
a study to avoid that which exposes one to ridicule. Helping her
had definitely exposed him. In spite of his obvious concern for her
health, the reality of the consequences would soon become
apparent.

There was the smallest hope that
Lord Grissholm's similar penchant for privacy would keep the
affair quiet; but she also knew there was the inevitable propensity
for servants to gossip, even in his lordship's household. It was
unforgivable to bring this down on Mr. Darcy. She had to
leave! She must go to Uncle Gardiner's immediately, before any more
damage could be done.

“Dr. Lawrence, my uncle resides in
Gracechurch Street. I should like to go there until I am well
enough to remove to Hertfordshire.”

“Gracechurch Street? From what Mr. Darcy
has told me, your uncle will not be in town until sometime tomorrow
morning. But, even so, it is out of the question. You are in far
too fragile a condition to make any journey. The slightest bump in
a carriage, no matter how well-sprung, could be fatal. No, my dear;
you will stay right here for the next five or six days at the very
least. After that, we shall see what may be arranged.”

“Five or six days! Sir, I cannot possibly
stay here another day! Mr. Darcy is a single man. For me to
stay unaccompanied in his household would certainly incite gossip.
It can no longer matter for me, but his generosity does not deserve
that kind of recompense!”

“He is far more concerned with your health
than what the gossipmongers might have to say – as am I,
Miss Bennet. In any case, you need not worry. His sister, Miss
Georgiana Darcy, is here at Burnham House as well. Mr. Darcy's
reputation is quite safe.”

“His sister?!” Elizabeth sat up in alarm only
to be driven back to her pillow by a violent tilt in her head. The
sudden wave of nausea was nothing, however, compared to the pain of
Mr. Darcy's sister knowing her misfortunes. “Could this be any
more wretched? I do not care what the risk may be. I cannot
possibly impose on the family in this way. I must leave now.”

“That you cannot do, and you are not imposing
on the family. Miss Darcy considers you her honored guest. She
has been especially anxious for your recovery and is eager to make
your acquaintance. I assure you that she will not countenance your
removal until I deem it prudent, which will be no sooner than next
Friday.”

Still trying to control the spinning in her
head, she realized he was right. She could not go anywhere – yet.
“Very well, I shall abide by your wishes for now, doctor; but as
soon as I am able, we shall re-visit the matter.”

“Indeed. Now, shall we get you up and wrapped
before that medicine wears off? I will leave more for you to take
later so that you can sleep. I shall return tomorrow afternoon and
see how you are doing. In the meantime, you are to remain in bed
and rest as much as you can. That alone will do a great deal to
speed your recovery.”

In short order, he had replaced the bandage
around her chest with a tighter, more stable wrapping. She watched
as the silver-haired physician finished packing his instruments
into the black medical bag and buckled it closed. He looked back to
the bed to assure himself that she would stay put and gave her a
slight bow as he turned toward the door. Elizabeth closed her eyes,
allowing the full effects of the medicine to settle over her, but
in the next moment they flew open again as the doctor's murmured
words reached her ears. “Now that she is out of danger, perhaps I
can finally convince young Darcy to get some rest as well.”

For some time, she lay staring at the canopy
overhead, thinking about Mr. Darcy's passionate words and the
feel of her hand in his as he kissed it. He had been worried for
her life. Was it possible he still cared for her? Did she want him
to?
Stop thinking about it, Lizzy!
she told herself sternly.
Wait until the realities of your situation have sunk in. Then we
shall see what his feelings are – and yours.

* * * *

“Hello, Elizabeth. How are you feeling this
afternoon?”

“Much better, thank you.” Elizabeth laid her
book of poetry aside and eagerly greeted Darcy's sibling. “I can
now sit up without feeling as though my head will fall off and I
have learned how to move without causing much pain – at least for
the most part.”

“Do you like the book?” Georgiana asked
eagerly. “Fitzwilliam picked it out. It is one of his favorites and
he thought you would enjoy it as well.”

“I like it very much. Please tell him I
appreciate the kind gesture.”

“I shall do that,” Georgiana flashed a smile
that did not reflect the girl's normally cheerful manner, and
Elizabeth studied her new friend. The shyly persistent girl had
presented herself at Elizabeth's bedside the day following
Mr. Darcy's surprising visit and quickly became a regular
visitor.

Mr. Darcy, though, had not come again
and Elizabeth spent many of her convalescing hours trying to sort
out his perplexing behavior. From what she could remember of the
night he had come to her bedside, he had shown no reserve, no
reluctance to make his feelings known; and yet he now remained
strangely aloof. Had the gravity of her situation finally sunk in;
and if so, why send volumes of poetry for her to read – his
favorites, no less? His actions were such a puzzling contradiction
that she could not begin to make him out.

She had no idea how she would come to
comprehend the man – until she discovered a surprising source of
information. Georgiana, much to Elizabeth's delight, was a
free-flowing fount of knowledge on the subject of her beloved
brother. And so it was in this manner that Elizabeth began to
understand the full depth of Mr. Darcy's character. A
character that had been forged by the loss of both his parents
early in his life, leaving him with the vast responsibilities of
caring for a large estate and a sister nearly half his age. His
unswerving loyalty to both was explanation enough for the solemn,
reserved demeanor she had first encountered in Hertfordshire.

As the days progressed and her health
improved, Elizabeth continued to be entertained and educated by
Georgiana's illuminating stories. Even the girl's actions had been
a surprising source of insight. Georgiana's painfully shy manners,
which very often mirrored those of her brother, had given Elizabeth
an entirely different view of Mr. Darcy's own reticence. What
mortification it must have cost him when he willingly admitted his
inability to converse easily with strangers – and she had treated
his candor with ridicule and contempt! Elizabeth's wretchedness at
her behavior toward Mr. Darcy grew each day in direct
proportion to her admiration for him.