She received him enthusiastically. “Welcome back, Mr. Darcy.” Behind her, the kitchen was a hive of activity. Darcy felta wave of affection for the woman who used to bake him his famous pies when his aunt had forbidden them.
“I see you have been doing some baking,” he said, hopefully.
“I heard there was a to-do upstairs earlier.” It was plain from the way she whispered it, that the servants had been gossiping. “I knew you would be coming down for food, so we prepared a light supper. I daresay Mrs. Darcy would like to eat it in the sickroom with her sister.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tumbler. You’re a gem. I will not forget it.”
“It is the least I can do.” She leaned forward. “I would love to meet your new bride.”
‘New’ was a relative term, thought Darcy, but he promised he would introduce Mrs. Darcy to Mrs. Tumbler, and went to find Elizabeth.
About an hour later, Noah scratched at Darcy’s door.
“Mr. Darcy,” said Noah. “There is a Healer here to see Miss Bennet.”
Darcy jumped to his feet at once and hurried out.
“Where is Lady Catherine?” said the Healer. “I was told I was urgently required.”
“Lady Catherine is my aunt,” said Darcy. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Ah, yes. The Janus mage. Your reputation precedes you. Edward Sprocket, Healer. I am delighted to be at her ladyship’s service. How can I –ssssist?”
Had he slurred the last word? Darcy decided he had imagined it.
“We have a patient with an object embedded in her limb. We hope you will be able to remove it. We have sealed—”
“I attended the best Academy in the Healing arts,” interrupted Mr. Sprocket. “I will certainly be able to remove it.”
“Then follow me, sir,” said Darcy. “I will take you to our patient.”
Darcy led the way to the sickroom and knocked softly on the door. Elizabeth came to answer it.
“We have a Healer,” he said. “Mr. Edward Sprocket.”
Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. She quickly curtseyed. “I am Mrs. Darcy. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Mr. Sprocket bowed. “Are you the patient? I expected you to be bed-ridden.” He peered at her in disapproval. “You must not wander around if you are injured.”
“No, no. Mr. Sprocket. You are mistaken. It is my sister who was injured.” She stepped back to allow him to come into the room.
Bingley jumped up. “Are you here for Miss Bennet? This way, please.”
Mr. Sprocket made his way to the bed. Elizabeth explained what had happened and showed him the wooden barb. He examined it for a while.
“It needs to be removed,” he said. “You need a surgeon.”
“But Mr. Sprocket, surely you can remove it using Healing magic,” said Mr. Bingley.
“Possibly,” he replied, “possibly.”
Darcy was losing his patience. “Either you can remove it, sir, or you cannot. Which is it?”
Mr. Sprocket winced and raised a hand to his head. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“It cannot wait until tomorrow, sir,” said Elizabeth, her voice despairing.
“Very well, then,” said Mr. Sprocket, sounding resigned. “I will do it now.”
