Darcy could tell Miss Elizabeth did not want to be in his arms but he could not find the motivation to care. She was perfect where she was, perfect in his arms and perfectly safe from harm.
At first he had been rather desperate to have someone else helping him in what he knew would be a dangerous venture. The very idea that this undersized lady, fitted so neatly in his embrace, would be placed in any sort of danger drew up protective instincts he had thus far only ever felt for his sister.
Except these feelings were a far cry from brotherly.
After the attack, knowing that the men were after her he had need to change his tactic. Now, he was struggling to find a way to keep her in his sight at all times. If he had to, and this would be no sacrifice on his part, he would keep her in his arms at all times.
"Your Grace." She brought him from his thoughts with her prodding. "Would you allow me to introduce my sister before she tends to my grievous wound?" the sarcasm in her voice only delighted him further. No one, beyond Richard, and certainly never a lady, spoke to him with such lack of deference. He found he thoroughly enjoyed it.
"Of course, Miss Elizabeth." He made no move to put her down, knowing full well that was her intention. "Richard, please meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet." Richard looked over absently and with an imbecilic smile gracing his face. "Miss Elizabeth, this is my cousin, Major General Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth made an exasperated sound and nodded her head to the man.
"I apologize, I am unable to curtsy, Major General." She looked up at Darcy with a glare that would have melted a weaker man.
"He has no need for a curtsy, do you Richard?" Darcy kept his eyes on hers so he could see them flash.
Richard chuckled. "No, Miss Elizabeth, I have no need for formalities but I am very happy to have met you." He turned back to smile jovially at the woman in his arms. Darcy found himself wishing he had an ounce of his easy demeanor.
Elizabeth smiled sweetly to him and he knew she thought she had outsmarted him. "But, my sister deserves a proper introduction, Your Grace. I am sure she will insist upon it." She spoke the last directly to her sister, who did not seem to notice.
"I am fine, Lizzie" Her sister cut in breathlessly, not taking her eyes from Richard. "as long as the Duke does not object." Darcy sent a silent thanks to her sister while Elizabeth trained her glare in that direction. It was, for all its ferocity, ineffective.
She cleared her throat as angrily as Darcy had ever heard. "Your Grace, this is my... " She made flustered sounds as though attempting to come up with an insulting adjective to describe her sister and failing. "Oh, this is my sister, Miss Bennet." She waved her hand between them as though dismissing the introduction she had just made.
"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet." Darcy kept his tone formal and managed a small bow without losing his grip on Elizabeth.
Miss Bennet nodded to him gracefully, playing perfectly along with the formality and making Elizabeth turn as red as her arm.
Her arm.
"Does it hurt, Miss Elizabeth?" He asked in a low voice.
Her eyes flew to his, looking confused before the words seemed to register. "No, it-" she moved her arm slightly and couldn't hide her wince. "Yes. I suppose it does."
Darcy's jaw clenched, anger flooding him. "Miss Bennet, would you tend your sisters wound?"
Richard made a slight frown before recovering when he looked to the drops of blood on the carpet.
Miss Bennet sobered as well. "Yes, of course. Lizzie, does it hurt?" She asked as Richard righted her and held her shoulders to ensure she was stable to walk.
"It is a scratch, Jane, I will be fine." Darcy watched as her face became blank, hiding the pain he had witnessed just a moment prior. "Have you many bandages? It seems larger than I expected."
He could feel the blood leaving his face as he got a better look at her wound. The knife that sliced her was, indeed, very sharp as the wound was cut clean but long, much longer than he had thought.
There was an ache in his chest as he thought of her protecting him. No one, not even his parents, had ever thought of his protection. This imp of a woman, more odd than pretty but all the more beautiful for it, had been injured throwing herself in front of a knife meant for him.
The soft feeling inside him turned quickly to anger as he thought of her being in further danger, and away from where he could protect her.
"Miss Elizabeth" his voice came out much more harsh than he intended. "Why were those men after you?"
"I…" she started weakly before she narrowed her eyes at him and continued in a strong voice. "I took something of theirs and I believe they are none too pleased, Your Grace."
"Can you return it to them?"
"I am afraid information does not necessarily work that way." She raised one arched eyebrow mischievously.
He ground his teeth harder, now in danger of cracking them, as he placed her gently on the settee. Her sister was preparing the bandages she had stowed away in her reticule.
"You are not safe, then." His tone was almost accusatory.
She squared her shoulders as much as she could without moving her injured arm. "I have been doing this for five years, Your Grace. I believe myself to be capable of maintaining my safety."
As she had actually tried to protect him, he did not doubt her intent. But, he needed to know that she safe.
"I find that hard to believe, given the circumstances." He nodded to her arm and if her sister hadn't pulled her sleeve back and she had to bite her knuckle quickly to keep from yelling out, he was certain she would have throttled him.
"We will only be in London a few more days, I will manage." She continued through gritted teeth and only after a deep, calming breath. "I believe there is a man we need to intercept in Hertfordshire?"
Bringing up Wickham was no way to calm him. He was saved from saying something further in anger with the arrival of the actual tea tray.
The men made quick, if sloppy, work of making tea for the women and delivered their cups as well as the hot water before sitting opposite the ladies, waiting to continue the conversation.
"Like I was saying" Elizabeth picked back up. "What can you tell me of this man? The more I know, the more I can be of service."
Darcy took a sip of his tea and the nearly boiling liquid scalded his throat. He coughed lightly. "I know he will run if he thinks I, or my cousin, are within a twenty mile radius of Hertfordshire."
"Are you certain?"
Darcy had no desire to expound upon the subject so he nodded seriously.
"And you will be visiting a friend currently renting Netherfield?"
"Yes, Miss Elizabeth. Do you know the house?"
Elizabeth nodded absently, the machinations churning in her head nearly visible in her expressive brown eyes.
"How malleable would you say your friend in Hertfordshire is?"
"Very." He retorted, far too quickly.
"Does Mr. Wickham know Mr. Bingley?"
Darcy paused for a moment. Did he? Bingley had been a guest at Pemberley many times but Wickham and his father had been gone for years. Wickham only came back shortly some five years ago and he had stayed in Ramsgate. Darcy's jaw ticked at the memory.
"No, Miss Elizabeth, I do not believe he does."
Elizabeth looked thoughtful for a moment. "I have a plan." She beamed a bright smile at the Duke. "But you may not like it very much, Your Grace."
Darcy groaned inwardly.
Working with Miss Elizabeth was proving to be far trickier than he had ever imagined.
The foursome made their way to the door after Miss Elizabeth explained her plan (which, contrary to her opinion, he did not mind in the least). They needed to depart soon as they had already overstayed a typical morning call.
Mr. Shipley pulled a large pile of brush and feathers and possibly an animal, from the entryway closet and handed the monstrosity to Miss Elizabeth.
"Good God" he spat. "that is the ugliest hat I have ever seen." He stared open mouthed for a moment. "Is that a bird, Miss Elizabeth?!"
Her throaty laugh was his new favorite sound.
"It is, Your Grace. I utilize the more ridiculous side of fashion as a disguise of sorts." She lifted her head and smiled at him fully before carefully pinning the mess of feathers in place, effectively hiding herself from him.
She curtsied low. "I will see you in Hertfordshire. Travel well." She adjusted her hat as it slipped to one side, chuckling at Darcy's grimace. "Despise me if you dare, Your Grace." Her voice laden with mirth and a wide, impish grin peeking out from under feathers before turning on her heels.
A full chested laugh escaped Darcy's lips as she left.
"Indeed I do not dare, Miss Elizabeth."