Page 69 of Ashes and Understanding
Elizabeth looked up, heart still pounding, but steadier now. “No,” she said after a moment. “I want to get it over with.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as the dried blood pulled against her skin. She tried not to think about it. “I need to change, at least.”
“You will need to speak to them as you are,” Mary said. “I told them they should not ask questions until you had awakened and had a bath, but they want you in the same condition as you were found. For… credibility, I suppose.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “Then let’s get this over with.”
Flanked by Mary and Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth went down the stairs to the drawing room. The men rose to their feet upon her entrance, and she was momentarily struck by the tableau they made—Sir William Lucas fidgeting anxiously beside a tea table and Mr. Gardiner near the hearth, arms crossed, brow creased in concern.
Bingley sat to the left of Mr. Bennet, his customary grin was missing from his face. Darcy stood at the window and turnedaround at her entrance. His expression was unreadable—except for his eyes, which were sharp and steady as they assessed her form. They traveled the length of her with a quiet intensity, lingering just a heartbeat too long below her neck before flicking back to her face.
“Lizzy,” her father said hoarsely, moving to her side in two long strides. He embraced her tightly, then drew back to look her over. “You gave us quite a scare.”
“I am sorry to have worried you, Papa,” she said, her voice low.
Darcy did not move forward, but there was something in the way he inclined his head that told her he had stayed for her. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, as if keeping himself in check. The tension in his shoulders had not eased.
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked back to his for only a moment—but the warmth there, barely veiled beneath his usual reserve, made her breath catch.
Sir William cleared his throat and gave her a clumsy bow. “Miss Bennet—may I say how very grateful we are that you were not harmed further in such a horrifying ordeal. How are you feeling?”
“As well as can be expected,” she replied, steadying herself as she lowered into the nearest armchair. She dared another glance at Darcy. He still had not spoken. But he watched her as though nothing else in the room mattered—and for just an instant, she wished they were alone.
Sir William looked at Mary and Mrs. Gardiner and shifted awkwardly. “Er, I must ask—I hope it will not be thought unkind, but I believe it may be best if the room be cleared. At least for the time being. It is important that Miss Bennet speak without influence.”
Mary stiffened. “Influence? She’s not a criminal, Sir William.”
“No, of course not,” he said quickly, “but official business must—”
Mr. Bennet’s voice cut through, dry but steady. “My daughter has more than enough allies in this room to face any inquiry without fear.” His eyes flicked towards Darcy, then back again to the ladies. “I believe she will be in good hands.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked torn but finally nodded and pressed Elizabeth’s hand. “We will be just outside if we are needed.”
“Thank you, Aunt,” Elizabeth said.
When the door shut behind them, Sir William turned to Elizabeth with an expression of genuine regret. “Miss Bennet, I must ask you to recount what happened from the beginning. Anything you can remember—no matter how small—may be of help.”
Elizabeth folded her hands tightly in her lap and began. Her voice trembled at first, but steadied as she recounted the sound of groaning on the path, the terror of the moment she turned and saw Smithson, the instinctive way she had thrown herself to the ground to keep him alive.
“Did he say anything? Perhaps tell you who did it, or even just give you his real name?” Mr. Gardiner asked.
She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. He said very little—he was gasping for breath. But just before he lost consciousness, he said…” She hesitated, feeling foolish even as the words passed her lips. “He said, ‘Tell the raven it was the crow.’”
There was a long pause. Every man in the room looked utterly baffled.
“Raven?” Mr. Bingley echoed, frowning.
Darcy, however, had gone perfectly still.
“Sounds like the sort of nonsense one might say delirious with pain,” Sir William said, tugging at his collar.
“It sounded deliberate,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head again. “Urgent.”
Sir William opened his mouth to look as if he might argue, then seemed to think better of it. Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “I am proud of you, my Lizzy,” he said in a rough voice. “I wish to heaven you had not gone through such a terrible thing, but I could not be more proud.”
The other gentlemen nodded and murmured their agreements. Mr. Bennet then gave a weak smile and added, “Your mother always said those long walks of yours were nothing but trouble. I just never imagined this sort. Of all my girls to prove Mrs. Bennet right…”
Chuckles filled the room, lightening the atmosphere. Even Darcy’s lips twitched slightly at Mr. Bennet’s wry humor.
