Mr Darcy's Mail-Order Bride Read online

  Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she shook out the towels and wrapped them tightly around his leg, stopping the bleeding as much as possible.

  “Let’s go.” Elizabeth stood and stepped back as the men rolled up the other side of the blanket and grabbed hold. Elizabeth and Maggie were by his feet. It took all five of them to navigate through the trees with their burden to the house. They continued to move as rapidly as possible until they were in his bedroom. Maggie threw off the blankets as they deposited him carefully on the clean, white sheet.

  “Someone ride for the doctor, please. Hurry.” Elizabeth did not raise her voice, she kept her tone nice and even to engender a sense of calm in the room. Panic threatened to rise and stick in her throat, but she tamped it down each time it made its ugly presence known.

  Both the foreman and she were covered with sweat by the time they cleaned the dirt off Darcy and covered him with the blankets. She was too fearful to be embarrassed at glimpsing the parts of a man she had never been exposed to in her lifetime, but she also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what resided under his long underwear would eventually become as familiar to her as her own form. He was her husband and the separation of rooms would not continue forever. With all that had occurred, it was that particular thought which finally made her blush.

  Over the next few hours, Elizabeth learned that the quality of patience was vital to those who live so far outside the city. Maggie was a treasure as she unearthed carbolic acid to cleanse the wound and laudanum for the pain. She kept Elizabeth supplied with a continual supply of clean bandages, fresh water, and hot coffee for her to drink.

  Elizabeth had been studying the man she was now tied to for her lifetime. With his face relaxed from the scowl he normally wore, he was remarkably handsome. He had striking eyes, high cheekbones, and a cleft in his chin—all the features she had dreamed of since the time she learned that boys grew to be men whom you married. Even at rest he looked powerful.

  She had seen him without the scowl. Unfortunately, it was when he was mooning over her sister. Elizabeth wanted to throw something—preferably, at him. She did understand his unrequited love. After all, hadn’t she done the same with Mr. Bingley? Yes, she had fanaticized over Mr. Darcy being a twin of the perfect man, but she left those wishes behind the instant she witnessed Bingley falling head-over-heels in love with Jane.

  Had Mr. Darcy done the same? Not at all. That he continued to long for something so out of his reach showed a lack of character which made Elizabeth uncomfortable being his wife.

  Darcy woke suddenly, not long after they had him settled in his bed. He lashed out at the first person his eyes encountered—Elizabeth.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing in my bedroom?” Anger dripped from his tongue.

  “You really want me to answer that?” she snapped back. Truly, it would have been better for her to have remained calm, but he had irritated her from the first time he had looked at her with disgust. Had it only been two days before?

  “Why are you here?” he demanded.

  “Sir, believe me, when I woke this morning, the last place I ever desired to be was in this room with you.” She restrained herself from poking him with her finger—in the eye. “Since you had the largest part of a tree fall on you, breaking your leg and bruising your shoulder, someone needed to set your bone, mop up the blood, change your clothes, and clean up the mud. Since the doctor has not yet arrived, Maggie and I have been dripping small amounts of laudanum into your mouth so you would not feel the fullness of pain when you awoke. Is this a thorough enough explanation for you or would you like me to send for Maggie to help you comprehend the mess you have gotten us both into?”

  His growl sounded similar to what she assumed a grizzly bear would sound like.

  “Wait!” He pulled the blankets up under his chin, a look of sheer panic on his face. “You changed me from my work clothes?” His eyes grew round and his breathing quickened. “You?” A look of terror crossed his face as he suddenly lifted the blankets and looked down only to tuck them right back under his chin. His fists were gripped so tight on the covers that his knuckles were stark white. “I have no clothes on!”

  “I know.” She could not keep the left side of her mouth from lifting into a half smile. Equity at having him just as mortified as she had been lightened her heart and she chuckled at his expression, entirely grateful that he had not seen her initial reaction. Elizabeth was more than pleased that he was the one squirming under the knowledge that she had the upper hand.

  “Please do not be concerned. Since yours is the first naked male body I have ever seen, I have no way of knowing whether you compare in a favorable manner or if you are lacking in some way.”

  When his face flamed beet red, she realized the justice from delivering an insult as painful as the one he had flung at her when she arrived was bitter. So, she softened her tone and stood from the chair next to his bed, and asked, “Is there anything I might provide for your comfort? Do you need more laudanum or some cool water?”

  “I can help myself.”

  “I am unsurprised you think you can.” Pouring a glass of water, she offered it to him, holding it just out of reach. “Nevertheless, your shoulder and back are already dark with bruising from your neck almost to your waist. Your right leg is splinted and cannot be moved. Purple, in the shade of an overripe plum stretches from above your knee to the top of your foot. So, please, tell me how you plan to ‘help yourself’?”

  He huffed and rested his good arm over his eyes. Since he was brought to the room, she had ample time to come to terms with their situation. To him, this was new.

  “How bad is the break?” He spoke much softer. She could hear his pain.

  “When my sister Mary had the same type of break in her arm, the doctor called it a compound fracture. She had to keep still for several months. Because the skin is broken, the risk of infection in the skin and bone is of primary concern.”

  “Two months!” He glared at her.

  “Did you hear me say two?” She sat back down beside him and reached behind his head to lift it far enough for him to drink. His need for water had to be massive.

  He sipped greedily, making sucking noises from the unnatural angle. Pulling against his damaged neck and shoulder had to increase his pain, though he said nothing.

  “It was actually three months before her arm healed enough to bear weight.” She wiped the water dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His humiliation brought her no joy.

  “I’m angry,” he huffed. “Three months. How can I be laid up that long? I have a ranch to run.”

  She said nothing. What was there to say? He was having to come to terms with some very unpleasant truths, and she knew nothing to make it any easier.

  “I’m sleepy.” He closed his eyes.

  “I imagine you are. However, before you close your eyes, might I give you a bit more medicine for your pain? Since I know little else I can do to help, it might be best if you sleep until the doctor arrives.”

  Darcy nodded his head and then winced from the pain. Within minutes he was sleeping deeply, his soft snores filling the room.

  Elizabeth felt bad for his situation. She would need to consult with Mr. Reynolds so the ranch ran smoothly during her husband’s convalescence. Sighing, the weight of her situation settled on her shoulders. The responsibility of tending a man who had married her in spite of himself would be a challenge she had never faced. Wouldn’t it be lovely to turn back time? She could have stayed with her family in Baltimore with problems she was used to solving. Rubbing her temple, she closed her eyes. Wishing did no good. Valid reasons had moved her to head west and accept Darcy’s proposal.

  Moving to the window, she looked down to the river. Boats drifted in the current as they left the small town. If only she was on one of those vessels, sailing to adventure beyond the horizon. Shaking her head, she touched her hand to the cool glass. Sprinkles of rain flecked the pane. The wet would slow the doctor. She sig
hed.

  Glancing back at the bed, she worried about her future should she lose him. Ashamed at herself for, again, only thinking of her own comfort, Elizabeth guiltily walked back so she could wipe his brow. The day that had started so pleasantly in the kitchen, had taken an ugly turn.

  Upon reflection, neither of them had acted in the best interests of the other. She had no power to change him, but she could adjust her own attitude. She vowed to do so immediately.

  The doctor was an older man with gentle hands and a soothing voice. Darcy was still asleep when he arrived and stayed asleep through the whole of the examination.

  “Mrs. Darcy, you are correct. Your husband has a compound or open fracture to the fibula. Using carbolic acid and water to wash his wound was a good choice. However, he shall need several more pillows to elevate his leg to help with swelling.”

  Maggie, who was standing behind her, left immediately to retrieve the requested items. The doctor tucked them all the way from behind Darcy’s thigh to his ankle, adding more as he went.

  “If I might speak privately with Mrs. Darcy?”

  Once the housekeeper left, he continued. “I’ve known this young man since his birth, as I delivered both Will and his sister. He’s been a healthy lad, but the few times he’s been ill, he’s been a terribly restless patient. I do not envy you the next several months, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth was resigned to her future.

  “The most critical aspect of his healing will be keeping him still for the first few weeks. This means, and I apologize for having to be so blunt, that he will be unable to care for his normal bodily functions on his own.”

  Elizabeth’s hand flew to her chest, and she felt her eyes grow as large as bugs. The thought had not crossed her mind at all. She wanted to stomp her foot and call someone else in to help.

  “As his wife, though I know you to be newly wed, these matters are best tended by someone he is close to and can trust. Just as a mother can best tend the wounds of her son, a wife’s ministrations are both soothing and acceptable. What will cause you both some discomfort and chagrin at first, will soon become a matter of course.”

  Elizabeth heard his words, though in her deepest imagination she could not believe they could be true. How could she ever become used to…well, how could she…? Her mind screamed at her to walk out the door and not return for the next three months.

  “You might think of sending word to the Fitzwilliams, Will’s family in Portland. Mrs. Reynolds will know how this is best done. Georgiana would be a great help in keeping her brother distracted. Will is very tender towards her, and though he will most likely be a growly bear with you, he would never raise his voice to his sister.”

  Elizabeth recognized the sense in his suggestion. “If you do not mind posting the letter, I will write immediately. Might you take the note with you when you go?”

  “Of course.” He started rolling down his sleeves. She took that as a sign that she could leave.

  The house was so new to her that she had to ask Maggie to help her locate paper and pen. A room at the back of the house was apparently used by her husband for a study. She seated herself in his worn leather chair and crafted the bad news to a young woman she had only ever heard of. Would Aunt and Uncle Fitzwilliam bolster her and ease her worries? Elizabeth hoped so.

  The surface of the desk was cluttered with correspondence, notes, and randomly stacked books. This surprised Elizabeth, as every other aspect of her husband’s life she had seen thus far had been quite orderly.

  Folding the envelope, she thought to write to the Bingleys. It would keep them from worrying about them not appearing for worship on Sunday if they heard from her of the accident. They would be protected from the gross distortion of rumors passed from one well-meaning neighbor to the next with the note.

  By the time she finished, Dr. Henderson was coming down the staircase. He accepted the letters, and he walked out to his waiting horse.

  “Mrs. Darcy.” He tipped his hat after mounting. “I will return tomorrow to check on our patient—and you.”

  She raised her hand as he rode off, wishing he could stay. Wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill, she turned back inside. Had it been only yesterday that she had first walked out to the front porch after hearing how her husband had hoped to bring Jane home with him instead of her?

  Shaking her head, she puzzled at how capricious life could be.

  Darkness had settled in the next time Darcy woke. The skin of his face was clammy, though his cheeks were flushed. Occasionally his body would jerk, and Elizabeth recognized his suffering was intense.

  The minute his eyes opened, she held a spoon of water to his mouth. Most of it headed down his chin as a chill settled over him, causing repeated spasms. When she covered all but his leg with the quilts Maggie had brought, he threw them off, complaining of the heat.

  Elizabeth kept her eyes on his as she again tried with the water. Finally, the first few drops passed into his mouth and his eyes closed in relief. He said nothing when she lifted his head to drink thirstily from the cup. Twice she had to refill it before he finally signaled to stop. Within seconds, she heard the first retch. He emptied his stomach into the pan she had waiting.

  Her left arm ached from holding his shoulder up as best as she could until he finally was able to lay back on the pillow.

  Not a word passed between the two of them as she left to empty the basin and refill the pitcher that had been on the table next to his bed. Maggie waited at the bottom of the stairs.

  “The doctor…he said…he said I would need to care for my husband’s personal needs. I am not familiar enough with the house to know where everything is, Maggie.”

  “You poor dear.” Walking to the back of the kitchen, the housekeeper opened a door to a room just inside the back porch. “I apologize I didn’t show you this last night.”

  Elizabeth blushed. The night before, she had stayed outside on the porch until dark. Maggie had left a pitcher of water and a cloth in her room along with a pot to use for her personal needs. Elizabeth was grateful the housekeeper did not mention her sullen behavior.

  “When Will returned from England, his head was full of ideas for improving the house. The first thing he did was to build this bathing room. With all the rain we get, it is easy to heat the water so it can shower over you.” She showed her how the handles and levers worked. “He installed what he called a toilet.” Again, Elizabeth was instructed as to its operation. The basin was quickly taken care of, and Maggie stepped outside so Elizabeth could take care of her own needs.

  “He brought home gas lamps and candles made of materials that are slow to burn and put off little smoke. Each time he picks up a newspaper when he’s in town, he searches the columns for any new invention that would make our home life easier. Your husband is a smart man who is forward thinking.”

  “Thank you for telling me. Do you think he would mind if I borrowed some books from the library to read to him? I do not know if he would have an interest in the few I was able to bring with me.”

  Maggie looked her directly in the eye. “This is your home too, Elizabeth. He vowed yesterday that what is his, is yours. Feel free to make use of anything on the ranch, especially if it aids Will to be comfortable and heal faster.”

  She continued, “Elizabeth, you need to eat something.”

  “I am not hungry.” The smell of vomit had turned her stomach. Not since her sisters were little had she had to tend someone so ill.

  “Of that I am well aware, dear girl.” The housekeeper planted her fists on her broad hips. “You will need to keep up your strength.”

  “Then I will accept a piece of bread…no more.” Washing her hands at the sink, she nibbled on the crust as she leaned against the counter.

  Breathing deeply, she thanked the housekeeper, picked up the full pitcher and empty basin and walked back upstairs.

  The room was dark when she stepped inside. Rain pounded on the window in a rhythm that sooth
ed her. Darcy was sleeping even harder than before. She sat beside him and watched his chest rise and fall. He had thrown off the covers again, so she carefully drew them back until he was covered. Dan—or was it Melvin—had entered earlier to start and tend a fire in the stone fireplace next to the window. He followed that task by bringing in a prodigious amount of split firewood to keep the hungry flames alive. Though it was the middle of summer, the heavy clouds cooled the air.

  The fire’s glow flickered on Darcy’s face, lighting up the side of his nose while throwing the rest in shadow. Again, she wiped beads of perspiration from his brow and ran her fingers through his hair to move the waves back from his face. The strands were thick, and she suspected he would never be like most men who had shiny pates from the loss of their youthful tresses. Bingley had thin, reddish-blond hair. Jane would eventually have a bald husband.

  She chuckled at the thought. In their girlish dreams, they insisted their future husbands would be tall and well-formed, brave and strong, with thick hair, and a love of dancing. She had no clue whether her husband had two left feet or could dance to the rhythm of the music. With his current state of health, there would be no need for her to find out for at least the next three months.

  To pass the time while he slept, she calculated how many days it might be. Was the doctor figuring an average of thirty days a month? If so, it would be ninety more days until Darcy was up and about. If he used actual months, then July and August, each with thirty-one days, plus the thirty days of September would be a total of ninety-two days. She would hope for the shorter term, and she was convinced her husband would feel the same.