Chapter 4

Four

Darcy heard a young woman's voice, faint and distant, barely cutting through the fog of his mind. As he struggled through the thick cloud enveloping him, he heard Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice beside him. "Darcy, can you hear me?"

"He is coming around," someone said in the background.

"Darcy, can you hear me?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked again.

"He is stirring," cried Miss Anne de Bourgh, Darcy's cousin.

A cool cloth was laid on his forehead, and he heard a glass being filled with water. Someone placed a glass to his lips. He was so thirsty that he drank eagerly, causing most of the liquid to spill over his chin. A gentle, linen-clad finger wiped away the spilled water, and another glass was brought up to his lips.

Sunlight streamed through the windows as he drew a cautious breath. The cool, crisp air filled his lungs as he turned toward the light, momentarily savoring the sensation despite the protest of his aching ribs.

Darcy tried focusing his eyes. He struggled to sit up, but a wave of dizziness swept over him. The room spun in a slow circle—the furnishings whirled around him like dancers at a ball. He fell back against the pillows.

"What happened to me?" Darcy asked.

"You suffered a riding accident," said the colonel. "You were found unconscious."

"How long was I unconscious?"

"For more than a day," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. "A couple of villagers found you severely injured on the outskirts of the estate. They carried you here to the house."

Darcy tried again to sit up, but the pain in his side overwhelmed him. He noticed his cousin Anne sitting next to him—her pallid complexion and hollow eyes betraying her distress.

"Thank heavens you have awakened," she said.

Anne got up, retrieved the glass, and refilled it with water. She sat down next to him and handed him the glass. He sipped some of the water and handed the glass back to her.

Darcy gritted his teeth as a sharp pain shot through his side.

"The physician said you have a few badly bruised ribs. You suffered a leg wound and a head wound. He strongly suspects that you have a concussion, too." His spirits now lifted at seeing Darcy was out of danger, half-serious, half-jokingly, he added, "Oh, and you suffered a sprained ankle as well. Other than that, there is nothing much the matter with you."

Darcy was hardly in the mood to suffer his cousin's verbal jabs. He raised his hand, touching the bandage on his head. "My personal physician from town?"

The colonel nodded. "We summoned him immediately to attend you, what with the local doctor having done all he could."

"Have the two of you remained here all this time?"

"Where else would we have been?" the colonel asked. "And not just the two of us," he added. "Miss Bennet has stayed here with us this entire time," he said, gesturing to the young lady near his side.

In truth, Darcy had hardly noticed the young lady. She was fairly tolerable, with her hair arranged in a bun and her hands clasped in front of her. She stepped closer to his bed and curtsied. "Mr. Darcy, what a relief to us all that you have awakened at last. Mere words cannot adequately convey how worried we were."

That voice! It jolted him, setting him inexplicably on edge. He stared blankly at her, struggling to place her face in his memory, yet finding nothing recognizable. "Pardon me," he said, "but I do not believe we have been introduced."

The young woman seemed taken aback by his declaration. For that matter, the expressions on his cousins' faces ranged from surprise to embarrassment. As though unable to mask his own confusion, the colonel looked at Elizabeth and shook his head. Shooting her a silent apology, he then faced Darcy.

"Surely you jest, old fellow."

"Do I look as though I am speaking in jest?" Mr. Darcy asked, his voice a mixture of irritation and frustration.

"And what of myself? Surely you know who I am, and you know who Anne is as well."

"Why would I not know you, my closest cousin and Anne, my betrothed?" Mr. Darcy asked as he continued to stare in confusion.

"Your betrothed!" a trio of distinct voices rang out in unison.

"That is correct. Cousin Anne and I are to be married," he declared.

"Are you certain?"

He glared at his cousin. "Am I in the habit of speaking out of turn?"

"No, but..." His cousin's voice was barely a whisper.

"But what?"

"I fear something is terribly amiss," the colonel said.

"I shall summon the doctor!" the befuddled young woman exclaimed, heading for the door.

When the stranger was gone, Darcy asked, "Is she one of the nurses in charge of my care?"

"Hardly," said the colonel.

"Then what was she doing here with the two of you? Her lingering presence hardly seemed proper."

The colonel ran his fingers through his hair as though searching his mind for an explanation. Darcy could not help but wonder what his cousin was about, but knowing him as he did, he would put nothing past the colonel. If the young lady was not one of the physician's nurses, then by what right did she have to be in his room? Was she one of Anne's particular friends whose acquaintance he had yet to make? To the best of his knowledge, Anne had no such friendship. It was more likely that she was one of the colonel's conquests. His cousin was no stranger to the female population in the nearby village, but he did not make a habit of bringing them to Rosings. Darcy wondered what was so special about this one.

The door swung open just as the colonel was about to speak. The physician said, "I will have to ask that all of you leave the room while I examine Mr. Darcy."

Darcy nodded to the colonel. "We shall talk after my physician finishes examining me. I have questions that need answering, Cousin."

The room began clearing of its guests. The stranger left with a quick curtsy and a particular glance, which Darcy could not decipher. He watched as the doctor produced various instruments and began his examination.

After a thorough review, the doctor finally put away his instruments, moving with the calm efficiency Darcy had come to expect over the years. Dr. Hamilton had attended Darcy and his family for as long as he could remember, his presence often a harbinger of either comforting assurance or disappointing news. In this instance, the lines of age on the doctor's face seemed softened by relief rather than concern.

"You appear to be doing well," Dr. Hamilton said, his voice carrying the steady reassurance of a man who had seen Darcy through numerous scrapes. "No doubt you will make a full recovery."

Darcy exhaled, though the relief was fleeting as the lingering ache in his side reminded him of his condition. "Thank you, Dr. Hamilton," he replied, flinching in pain as he attempted to sit upright. "How long, then, before I am out of this bed and back on my feet?"

The older man regarded him with the stern look Darcy knew all too well. "Patience, Mr. Darcy," he said. "You have suffered a head wound, among other injuries. While I am confident in your recovery, it will take time. Possibly weeks—your body will tell you when it is ready, but you must not push it."

Darcy's frustration was palpable as he laid back against the pillows. "Weeks? Surely you overestimate the severity of my injuries," he protested, his tone sharper than intended.

"Your ribs are badly bruised, your ankle sprained, and you have a severe wound on your leg. Add to that the concussion, and you are fortunate to be conscious at all—let alone sitting up," Hamilton replied, his tone unwavering. "You must rest. The alternative is more severe setbacks."

Darcy's jaw tightened. He hated the thought of being confined to bed, reliant on others. "And what if I choose to disregard your advice?" he asked.

Hamilton raised an eyebrow, clearly familiar with Darcy's impatience. "Your body needs time to heal, and if you push yourself too quickly, you will only worsen your condition. A few days of bed rest, at the least, then light activity. But do not expect to be back to your usual vigor at once."

Darcy frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "I see," he muttered. "Rest, then. And when might I be able to resume my usual routine?"

"Must I recount your injuries?" Hamilton asked, his tone firm. "No strenuous activity, no exertions, and absolutely no riding until your strength returns."

Darcy grimaced. "I fear I shall go mad before then."

Hamilton chuckled softly. "Patience, Mr. Darcy. I caution you to heed my advice, or you risk prolonging your recovery."

Darcy sighed heavily, acknowledging the wisdom of his physician's words, though he could not hide his frustration. "Very well," he conceded. "I shall abide by your instructions—for now."

Hamilton gave a satisfied nod. "Good. You will be on your feet soon enough. Now, if there is nothing else, I will take my leave."

"Very well," Darcy muttered, though his mind was already mulling over how long he would be confined to his bed. Wincing again as he shifted, he added, "In the meantime, I would like to see my cousin, the colonel."

The doctor nodded and left. Darcy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The pain his body suffered paled compared to the tumult in his mind. His cousin's reluctance to answer his earlier questions, combined with the mystery woman's presence, consumed his thoughts.

I need to find out more about this strange woman my cousin has thrust into our midst, and I am determined to do so.