Darcy sighed and strode out of his study, candle in hand. He couldn't write any more letters about New York being pleasant to various relatives and acquaintances. Coming here was mistake. It had been too painful to stay in England. It now felt too painful to stay away. He was not pleased with anything in New York; of course he was not. The people were uncouth. The city uncivilized. Even those deigned to call themselves aristocrats were nothing but coarse frauds.
What would Elizabeth think of his observations? He laughed softly to himself. He was being a snob. Yet, she was also. The first time he had accused her of this, she was so surprised she didn't have a witty retort ready. She had just turned on her heel and left the room. He smiled slightly at the memory and knew that Elizabeth find sport in laughing at the members of the New York society. Though call her a snob and she would immediately chide him for his own pride.
He was achingly lonely. He could recognize that now. Before Elizabeth, he had protected himself through disdain and pride. And now that she was gone, he could admit to himself that had really never changed all that much. Elizabeth was a softening influence. He had been happy. Funny how happiness can affect one's character. It had made him gentler in his opinions than before. Slower to cast judgment. But, there was no reason for rose-colored glasses now and he had not the inclination for any pretense. New York and its society was not pleasant and beneath him. He had made a mistake. A very large one too.
Lost in thought, Darcy found himself at then end of the long hallway standing in front of a door that was not familiar. He had thought he was heading towards his bedroom, but now he seemed to find himself in a different wing. Opening the door, he could see nothing but darkness. He squinted to adjust to the dark, holding a candle into the room to see what was inside. Something held him back from entering the room. A strange fit of apprehension. But his curiosity overtook fear when not even the outstretched candle illuminated the expanse of darkness. He took a step even as fear was gripping his chest. Then there was nothing besides blackness.
His first glimpse of light again was blinding and painful. He saw the blurry face of a woman.
"What's your name, sir?" She asked, shining a small light in his eyes and then pulling it away, staring furtively at his pupils. His eyes slowly focused on the face in front of him.
"Elizabeth?" He stared at her in disbelief. "I must be in a dream." He reached to touch her face.
She jerked away. "I'm Dr. Eaton. I'll be taking care of you. Do you remember how you hurt your head?"
"My head…" he trailed off, bringing his fingers to his forehead and feeling warm blood. He realized he was lying down, but felt too weak to move any more.
She grabbed his fingers. "Don't touch it. We still have to stitch you up. Now I'm just going to give you little shot to numb the area." She reached over to a small stainless steel table for a syringe with a large needle. "Remain still while I…" She moved to insert the needle into his skin near the gash. She laughed, noticing Darcy's eyes get wide. "You're not afraid of a little shot are you?" She slid the needle in quickly. Darcy winced. As she cleaned the wound, he murmured, closing his eyes, "This must be some sort of strange dream. I cannot feel my forehead any longer."
She smiled warmly. "I'm afraid you're entirely awake, sir. That's just the shot doing its job. Most people don't want to feel sutures being put in." She looked at this ashen complexion. "Are you feeling ok? You don't look great. Sir, does this kind of stuff make you woozy?"
"No. No. I've had wounds before that needed to be closed. But you would know that, wouldn't you, Elizabeth?"
She was taken back, comprehending his use of her first name again. "Um. I don't think we've been able to be your medical history. You were out for a while." She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. "It's actually Dr. Eaton. I mean, Dr. Elizabeth Eaton."
"Who are you? Where am I? You look so much like Elizabeth, but you aren't her, are you? I don't recognize anything. What is this place? The din in here…" His heart felt like it was suddenly about to burst. His breath turned ragged. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but his muscles gave way.
Elizabeth gently held him down by the forearms. "Sir, I think you are going into shock. You need to take deep breaths. Mark," she turned to the nurse in the corner, "Can you elevate his legs?" She turned to Darcy, looking him in the eyes and laying her hands flat over his heart, "Look at me and focus."
He tried. He really tried to focus, but everything turned black.