“But the greatest surprise of all was the sheer vastness of the estate. Immense! That was something you neglected to mention.”
“I do not believe so,” said Darcy. “You have had every map showing the full extent of the land before you more than once.”
Elizabeth nodded. She had known the figures, but when they began to explore the estate, it became clear that she had never truly grasped what they signified.
Yet there was not much more to say of her time in Derbyshire, for Darcy had already received Mary’s letters.
“Tell us, rather, about Miss Mary,” Darcy said with a knowing smile.
“Even if you had objected to her remaining at Pemberley, I do not think I could have brought her back. My younger sister has…become attached to the place,” Elizabeth continued in the same tone, laden with meaning, her affectionate smile tinged with a hint of playful irony.
“I am glad that this attachment includes Mr Buxton. He is indeed a remarkable man,” said Darcy, and Georgiana looked at him in surprise.
“The rector of Lambton?” she asked.
“Yes, the very same. I would not be astonished if my father received a certain letter from the Parsonage.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Georgiana, who delighted in any romantic tale. “We, too, have had similar events…of that kind,” she added, blushing. But as the two merely stared at her in expectant silence, it became evident that they wished her to explain.
“Miss Bennet and Mr Bingley… It would seem that Mr Bingley has been forgiven.”
“And I, along with him, once and for all,” said Darcy, his gaze resting upon Elizabeth. “And before leaving London, Mr Bennet invited Bingley to Longbourn… But it seems he still holds the lease on Netherfield.”
Georgiana wished to enquire further, to understand more. Still, she refrained, for she knew, despite her curiosity, that there would always be secrets between her brother and his wife that she was not party to. She did not intrude upon that intimate space, leaving it for the two of them alone.
Chapter 31
“May I present Mr Robertson,” the colonel said to Darcy and Elizabeth, who were waiting in Darcy’s bedchamber.
The surgeon bowed with some difficulty, for he walked with a cane, and for a moment, he and Darcy exchanged a knowing smile. In an instant, a bond of trust was formed between them, built upon shared suffering.
“Before I examine you, I would like you to recount the incident again,” Mr Robertson requested, his tone firm and professional. All eyes turned towards the colonel, the sole witness; Darcy remembered nothing.
“We were returning from the club in my carriage. It must have been around midnight, yet the night was quite bright. When we reached the house, we saw there was another carriage stationed directly in front of the building—it was undoubtedly the vehicle belonging to that man, Rowen, placed deliberately so that no other carriage could stop outside the house. It gave him a place to hide until Darcy arrived on his own doorstep. He mostlikely intended to make his escape in it as well, but he had no coachman.
“My carriage pulled up a little farther down the street. Darcy had to walk but a few steps, no more than twenty, to reach the house. There are seven rather large steps from the pavement to the door, flanked by wrought-iron railings.”
“Five feet from street level?” Mr Robertson asked.
“Perhaps more,” Darcy replied, increasingly attentive to his cousin’s account. In the past, the colonel had avoided giving him details. Three months later, he was eager to know what had happened, and he found himself also intrigued by the surgeon’s precise questioning.
The colonel nodded, his gaze intent, unaware of the room around him, as though he were no longer present but reliving that fateful night on the street.
“Darcy left his gloves on the carriage seat, and I descended immediately to return them to him. It all happened within twenty seconds—Darcy alighted first, and I followed shortly after. I believe the assailant was waiting for my carriage to depart, but he must have noticed that Darcy was almost at the house and the carriage was not yet moving…and his plans were overturned. He hesitated to fire while they were on the same level in the street. He fired only after Darcy had ascended the steps. He shouted something—sirormister—but I also called out to Darcy, and he turned towards me. As I approached with his gloves in hand, the scoundrel fired.”
“One seldom fires upwards unless in self-defence,” Mr Robertson remarked thoughtfully.
“The plan must have been to rush out from behind the carriage and fire at close range, no more than a foot away, while still on the street,” the colonel surmised. The surgeon nodded, and Elizabeth pressed her hand to her heart as though his words had struck her as deeply as a bullet.
“Seeing me, the man panicked, and rushing for his carriage, he could not evade me, and I grabbed him. I screamed like a madman, calling out to my coachman, making a lot of noise, calling for Darcy’s footmen to come out. While they rushed out and carried Darcy inside, my coachman and I held the assailant down.”
“If it had not been for my gloves, I would have stood no chance,” Darcy said, glancing at the colonel with gratitude.
“Perhaps,” the surgeon admitted.
“The plan was foiled because my carriage did not move. He acted hastily, without further consideration, but he would not have had another opportunity. Once Darcy had been warned of a potential threat, he would have taken precautions,” the colonel concluded.
“Yes, the bullet came from below, fired almost at random,” Mr Robertson confirmed. “Do you know what kind of firearm was used?”
