Page 42 of Until My Last Breath

The two gentlemen exchanged glances again. This time, however, the message was clear.

“Please, tell me Mr Lynch, what was your activity in your youth?” Lord Matlock asked.

Mr Lynch stopped eating and looked back at Lord Matlock, a shadow covering his eyes. “I was in the navy, sir. But I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We were at the Antilles and a local lad was badly injured and died. A witness described the perpetrator as a white man with blue eyes and no hair. The suspicion fell on me, as if I was the only man with such a description in that port. After some confusion, they spared me from the noose, but condemned me to a ten-year sentence, which I served there. After that, they would not receive me back asI had brought shame on the Royal British Navy.” Those last words were spoken with strong bitterness. “I paid for a crime I did not commit. Being a mere armourer was not enough to allow me a fair judgement, and I was abandoned there. After that, I fell into a life of misery and shame, and became what you can see now.”

Lord Matlock was touched by the man’s story and made a vow to help him. But for now, he had more pressing things to worry about.

He stood up and rang the bell. When the butler arrived, he asked for the two fastest messengers that money could buy to be brought to him as soon as possible. He sat down and wrote two letters.

Half an hour later, two thin young men entered the room. He approached the first boy, remembering using his services before, giving him a piece of paper and a silver coin. “You have in your hands a very important message, my boy, and I need it to reach Colonel Fitzwilliam in Eastbourne at this address, as soon as possible. It is a matter of life or death. Do you understand?”

The young man nodded.

“Then go, and Godspeed.”

Turning to the other lad, Lord Matlock gave him another letter and another coin, and sent him to Commodore Norton, hoping he was beingoverzealous in contacting the navy. The Prime Minister had authorised him to contact any member of the army or navy. This small note could open a most needed door for Richard, if necessary.

~ ♥ ~

Dr Hayford arrived at the house of his last patient at a quarter past the eighth hour. The weather was not exactly cold, but the thick fog brought a shiver to his old body and a frown to his white brows. He had been informed that the rescue would take place that night, in fact, as soon as he entered the house.

As he looked around, it was as if he could see his whole life parading before him. His battles and losses, but also his victories and gains. He had always been proud of having served his king and his country. He shook his head and chuckled. Who would ever imagine that at his age he would be doing it again? His breathing was short and irregular, and his heart was like a drum in his ears. Was he fearing death today, after all that he had seen? After all the pain and sorrow his life as an army doctor had propitiated him? Dr Hayford took a deep breath and smiled. If this was to be his last day in this world of God, so be it. He was happy to end his life fighting again for justice and freedom.

With a fresh determination, he knocked on the door.

“Good evening, Doctor,” Brown greeted him gruffly some minutes later, ushering him into the house.

“And a good evening to you, Mr Brown. I hope our young man has maintained his improvement. I am sure he will be able to leave his bedroom by now,” Dr Hayford said as they climbed the stairs. The irony of his words brought another smile to his lips.

They entered the bedroom. Now fully aware of their plight, Dr Hayford looked at Darcy and Elizabeth with renewed kindness. “Good evening Mrs Smith, Mr Smith. Let me see how you are faring this evening.”

But instead of pulling the old bandages away to proceed with cleaning and re-covering Mr Darcy’s wound, he just added another layer of bandages, as if reinforcing his previous work; the real reason known only to him. In no time, quite different from the previous visits, Dr Hayford had already finished. “Marvellous. I believe—”

A loud noise of shouts and gunshots downstairs interrupted the doctor.

The four heads looked towards the door.

Brown jumped, running to lock the door, but the doctor grabbed him by the neck, and in seconds the two men were involved in a fight. The poor doctor, despite his great efforts, was no match for the much younger and stronger man, quite used to fights in the dark alleys of the Seven Dials.

Darcy was already standing with the intention of helping, when Brown threw Dr Hayford against the chair, as if the old man was no more than a doll. The poor fellow collapsed, falling on the floor with a loud thud.

Darcy, regardless of his still healing injury, threw himself over Brown, grabbing the ruffian by his neck as they both fell to the floor. With the impact, the pistol Brown was hiding in his jacket fell and skidded across the floor.

Elizabeth saw the shiny metallic part of the gun in the dimmed candlelight and ran to fetch it. When she looked up, Brown was sitting on Mr Darcy’s chest, punching his face.

“Stop or I will shoot you,” she yelled at Brown, firmly pointing the pistol in his direction.

Brown stopped, whipped his head up and stared at her. Then he sneered. “Ah! This is one thing I would love to see. A genteel lady like you,” he said through clenched teeth. With a subtle move, Brown stood up, cleaning the blood from his own injured mouth, leaving behind Mr Darcy with his face covered in blood.

Steadily, Brown fetched a small knife from his boot. “I am going to finish what I started a couple of days ago. Debt or not, I am going to kill you…” — he roared, twisting his knife in the air — “…slowly and painfully.”

Elizabeth knew he was not bluffing. Holding her erratic breath, she did not take her eyes from the man, even for a second, not even to look at the man she loved lying on the floor, bleeding. In that moment, her mind was on her father’s words when he was teaching her to hunt. “Keep your eyes on your prey, control your breathing and, at the right moment, shoot.”

Suddenly, Brown plunged towards her.

Mr Darcy, who was valiantly trying to sit up, watched with horror as the man charged towards Elizabeth, wielding his knife.

In the following second, a shot. Both of them fell to the floor with a deafening sound.

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