Page 96 of Cousin Conundrum

“What is it?” she breathed in his ear.

He indicated the staircase and the silence below.

She frowned, caught in the same quandary. Did they abandon the Walters for safety, attempt a diversion, or sneak down the staircase to try to save the couple? Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to his coat pocket and he realized she contemplated the pistol.

Side by side, they started for the stairs.

Miss Archer’s head appeared, coming up the steps.

A wicked grin split her face. The pistol in her hand pointing at them, she cocked both barrels. “Well, well. If it is not my erstwhile suitor. Or rather, almost-suitor, as you saw fit to interfere, Miss Elizabeth.” Reaching the top of the staircase, she halted. Her gaze went to the open door of the children’s now empty room.

“Who are you talking to?” Miss Laura’s voice asked from below.

“We have an unexpected guest,” Miss Archer replied. “He seems to have relieved us of our other guests, but he is worth more than any of them. Only think of how much Mr. Darcy’s estate can raise.”

“Hurst has the house surrounded,” Darcy stated, keenly aware of the pistol hilt protruding from his coat pocket. “You will never escape.”

“He will risk no harm to you.”

“What do you mean to do?” Elizabeth’s voice dripped disdain. “You cannot all hide behind the two of us. The moment you leave here, you will be apprehended. There is no escape. You are all going to hang, Miss Archer.”

“Hang?” Miss Laura squeaked, still out of sight down the steps. Footfalls clattered, her cries sounding somewhere below as she wailed, “Mr. Darcy is upstairs.”

Miss Archer pointed the pistol directly at Elizabeth. “Do you know, you are correct. We cannot hide behind you, and now that we have Mr. Darcy, you are quite worthless. Or should I say, useless?”

Darcy saw her finger flex. Saw her squeeze. Unthinking, he leaped in front of Elizabeth.

A shot rang out, deafening in the enclosed hallway. Pain ripped into Darcy’s side. Light flashed before his eyes, the world spinning.

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth cried, dropping down beside him.

When had he hit the floor?

“Damn you,” Miss Archer snarled.

Delicate hands fumbled at Darcy. At his coat. Elizabeth, trying to save him?

She stood, leaving his side. He tried to grab her, to bring her back. He needed Elizabeth. His hand hardly moved, however, ignoring his command to stay her.

Another shot rang out, and a third. A woman screamed. Dull thudding, almost like a ball bouncing down a staircase, echoed about in his head as darkness closed in.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Darcy shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but somehow his entire body seemed to ache. Especially his left side. Patting it, he found some sort of wrapping. Bandages?

His eyes flew open, the memory of a tall auburn-haired woman attempting to shoot Elizabeth crashing into him. He wrenched his head about, seeking—

“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth dropped the book she held, reaching from where she sat beside his bed to capture his hand.

“I keep telling you,” his sister Georgiana’s familiar voice said from a table deeper in the room. “You must call him Fitzwilliam if you want people to believe you are—”

“He is awake,” Elizabeth cut in.

Georgiana stood so abruptly she set the china rattling. She rushed over to the chair on his other side, grabbing his free hand as she sat. “Fitz!” Tears tumbled from her eyes.

What was Georgiana doing here? For that matter, where was here?

He looked from face to face. Elizabeth clasped one of his hands in both of hers, the bandages on her wrists rough against his skin, her eyes brimming with moisture, while Georgiana held his other. Had he married Elizabeth after all, and now they were a family, together? Joy swelled in his chest.