Darcy forced himself to look away from Elizabeth. “Three to four hours on horseback, depending on the roads. I was home in a little more than three.”
His cousin nodded. “We cannot be certain of the dose, but typically she would wake after four or five hours. She is rather slight, so we may have some time to wait.” He met Darcy’s gaze, and Darcy knew he was asking how they were to proceed. “Shall we call the magistrate?”
Darcy shook his head. “And say what? That Anders found her in the boot of my carriage? Fitz, she and I had a disagreement at the ball, but it would not take long to prove that I arrived here and was seen in public long before my coach arrived. It would barely touch me. Miss Elizabeth’s reputation, however, would be destroyed, along with those of her sisters. And Anders would surely be accused in the matter, whether people believed he was working on orders from me or not.” He motioned to his coachman. “Between the color of his skin and his father being an American, you know he would not fare well in court.” He glanced at the coachman. “I do not mean to offend, Anders.”
“There is no offense in the truth, sir,” Anders replied stoically.
Fitz nodded. “So she remains?”
“Until we can find a way to resolve this, yes.” Darcy wondered how precisely they would be able to do that. His mind began to churn with other questions, too. Had Bingley done this? Had her attackers meant to kill her? Was the threat of the sheep farm not enough to keep Miss Bingley from telling her lies?
“Sir,” Slipworth said in a hushed tone, breaking into his thoughts. “If you are to keep her here, we must remove her somewhere more private.”
Darcy was surprised that his fastidious valet would even consider hiding an injured woman in Darcy House, let alone participate, but he let that pass. Slipworth’s loyalty would override any qualms he might have. And Slipworth was right. They should move her, and quickly. Less chance of detection and less painful for Elizabeth to be moved while she was still insensate.
Anders stood. “Sirs.” They all gave the coachman their attention. “It is best if I do not hear any more. The fewer who know the young lady’s location, the better off she shall be, I think.” Darcy nodded once. Anders continued, “I am not generally in the house and therefore cannot assist more than I have without raising suspicion. I shall keep my wits about me outside. Perhaps whoever has done this will be paying you a visit?”
“No doubt with a magistrate,” Fitz mumbled uncomfortably.
Darcy rubbed the back of his neck. “Or some sort of extortion scheme.” He looked at Anders.
“I would be willing to contact my family, sir, should you have need of them,” Anders said, steadier now.
Darcy sighed. Anders had a large family, most of whom lived in and around Lambeth—tradesmen, mostly. Military, both active and retired. A musician. An artist. Anders was the only one in service, and only because he had a love for fine horses and carriages but not the money to acquire or maintain them himself. His family had, on occasion, offered various services to Darcy House when Anders requested it. “I hate to impose, Anders,” he said, “but I thank you. We may have need of help before this is through.” He gave Anders a nod. “Right,” he said seriously, “off you go.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Anders said, the words heavy with meaning. He bent his head in an abbreviated bow and was gone.
“Where do you plan to hide her?” Fitz asked when Anders had closed the door. “This is not Pemberley. You do not have dozens of rooms in which to secret an invalid, and we dare not involve your housekeeper or a maid in such a scheme.”
Notwithstanding his position as master, Darcy knew Mrs. Spencer would have his head on a pike for bringing trouble to the house. He did not fear the housekeeper, but neither could he be sure she would willingly assist them—and he would not have caring for Elizabeth made any more complicated.
“No, we shall have to see to her ourselves,” Darcy said seriously. He did not miss the scandalized expression on Slipworth’s face or the grim one on Fitz’s. “We cannot afford to draw any attention to this house. Word cannot be allowed to get out. We cannot even call for a doctor or a surgeon.”
He saw that they understood, but he had one more thing to say. “Miss Elizabeth is a gentlewoman. I admire and respect her. Whatever this is about, she is an innocent and I suspect has been injured in a base attempt to malign me. I must do what I can to keep this quiet not only for Anders and Slipworth, but for her.”
“She will never be able to return home,” Fitz said—rather unnecessarily, Darcy thought.
“We shall concern ourselves with that later,” he replied. “For now, it is enough that she is safe.” He released a heavy sigh. “We will hide her off the study. Clear the hall for me, Fitz?”
Fitz’s expression was pinched, but he nodded. Darcy was sure his cousin remembered the room he meant to use. “Of course.”
“Slipworth,” Darcy said, “you will need to distract Mr. Pratt. Tell him I require a report on . . .” His mind was a blank.
“Yes, sir,” Slipworth replied quietly. “I shall ask him to inventory the liquor, as the colonel is in residence.”
Fitz sputtered a protest, but Darcy offered his valet a nod and his thanks.
Slipworth was surprised by the thanks, his eyebrows lifted nearly to his receding hairline, but he did not respond other than to ask, “Now, sir?”
Darcy and Fitz lifted Elizabeth from the floor and adjusted her in Darcy’s arms. He cradled her limp form tenderly. “Now.”
Darcy stepped into the room with Elizabeth in his arms. The door swung closed behind him, and he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The shutters on the windows were closed tightly, and he dared not open them now. Instead, he moved towards the small bed he knew was in the far corner.
He felt Fitz maneuver around him and pull the blankets back, shaking them a bit. Darcy assumed they were dusty. He had not opened this room for many years. As he slowly kneeled to lay Elizabeth down on the bed, he was surprised to see that she fit upon it, though her legs were slightly bent.
“You were tall even then,” Fitz remarked.
Darcy pulled the blankets over Elizabeth’s inert form and tucked them around her. Then he moved to the hearth. It was on the opposite side of the wall from the fireplace in his study.