by Anna Harlow
Four whole days Mr. Wickham had been in Meryton. It was certain that he must have been given a day away from the regiment barracks by now. Had the gentleman furthered his acquaintance with the Bennet girls? Had he been telling them lies to put them off Bingley or himself? It was just the sort of thing he tended to do.
Anger welled up inside of him at his former friend’s perceived behavior, and Darcy grew careless. The horse was running at a full clip, and reached the forest before its rider took any notice. A low branch thwacked across Darcy’s chest, ripping him off his mount. He went flying through the air and landed feet first in a ditch. The hearty crunching sound did not bode well for his ankle, and the pain that soon followed confirmed his worst fears.
Through the line of trees, Darcy saw a break. A small cottage stood in the clearing, but he could see no smoke coming from its chimney. Calling out didn’t seem like much of an option, but neither did just lying there either.
Thunder clapped, and he was soon made aware of the dark clouds which had been rolling in behind him, almost as dark as his mood at the moment. There was nothing for it; he certainly could not remain lying in a ditch in the middle of a storm.
“Help! Help!” he shouted, over and over.
Just as he began to despair of ever being found, the one person who was most on his mind moved into view. Elizabeth Bennet came running over to him.
“Goodness, Mr. Darcy, what has happened?” she gasped. “Do not try to move, sir!”
“But I must move, ere that storm gets here,” he replied. “Do you think you can help me to that cottage beyond the tree line?”
“The old Moore’s cottage? I can certainly try, but you will find no help from that quarter,” she told him. “Mr. Moore died six months since, and no one has lived there in all that time. It will be quite empty.”
“It will serve as a roof for now, Miss Bennet,” Darcy insisted. “Forgive me, but I believe you will have to bear some of my weight, if we are to reach the place. Will you suffer my arm about your neck?”
“I shall,” she said, nodding. “But getting you out of there may be the worst of it, I fear.”
“Do not worry,” he said. “For that part, I shall crawl.”
Elizabeth smiled slightly. “It seems that you are just as practical as I am, sir. But it is quite certain to hurt.”
Grimacing all the way, Darcy dragged himself back up onto level ground. He managed to get to his knees before a bolt of lightning flashed quite nearby, followed by a downpour. Elizabeth was quick to pull, getting him onto his good leg and wrapping his arm over her shoulder.
“We must get inside immediately, my dear,” Darcy told her. “I believe we are at the heart of the storm.”
Another bolt of lightning confirmed this notion, and the two of them moved together as quickly as possible toward the cabin door. They found it unlocked, and hurried inside. Though it was covered over with cloths, some of the furniture was still inside. Discerning a sofa, Elizabeth yanked the sheet aside and deposited Darcy there unceremoniously. She fell down right beside him, gasping hard for some air.
“I am sorry, Elizabeth, that you were the one who found me,” he said softly, taking her by the hand. “It cannot have been easy, since I am a large man, and you are so small. But I am afraid your work has only just begun.”
“I know,” she answered, rising up to go and shut the door. “It will be cold soon. I should find out if there is any wood. And, if you can bear it, I must have a look at your ankle.”
“Have you any notion how to treat it, madam?” he asked warily.
“I have learned a great deal about running a large household, sir,” she informed him, her manner somewhat cold. “First aid was certainly on the list, to be sure.”
“Miss Bennet? I fear I must point this out to you, ere we continue much longer here. I do not think that storm is likely to let up tonight.”
“You’re right,” she agreed, sighing. “We shall have to remain here, even though it is not preferred. Excuse me, sir, while I discover just what supplies may still be found.”
“Elizabeth, let me finish,” he complained, though he gasped with pain as he sat up.
“Sir?”
“Do you know, Miss Bennet, what will be said if we share a night together? True or not, people will insist that you have been compromised. When we are rescued, it will be my duty to speak to your father, and to make you an offer.”
Elizabeth stared at him, dumbfounded. Her jaw worked more than once as she attempted to form coherent words. Finally, she managed to say something, though they were not the words he had hoped for.
“Sir? If you make such an offer, my answer will be no.”
Without another word, she darted out of the room and into the kitchen. He did not see her again until sometime later as she hauled in an armful of logs, then disappeared another time. Eventually, she managed to start a fire, and though he longed to help, all Darcy could do was lie there and watch her.
Chapter Twelve
With the fire going fully, Elizabeth knew that she must next tend to Mr. Darcy’s ankle, and examine him for other injuries. And yet, her heart was racing at the very thought. She ran all the horror stories that Mr. Wickham had divulged on the day they’d met through her mind, remembering what a callous and cruel man Darcy actually was. He could treat Wickham so infamously, and yet thought to save her reputation from ruin through marriage? How could the two men be one and the same?
It hardly mattered what sort of character he might be, since she did not love him. Her own scruples would not allow her to accept the hand of any man she could not make a proper wife. For all that she was fully trained, and could run his household quite capably, it did not feel right to trap him in yet another marriage of duty. He deserved better than that, and so did she.
“Sir? We must ascertain your injuries, but I must first attempt to find candles. If there are none, we will be in a sorry state of affairs indeed.”
She returned shortly with five candle stubs and a bowl. She grabbed a piece of kindling, lit it in the fire, and used it to light a makeshift wick she’d fashioned from her hair ribbon.
“That’s quite a trick, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy tiredly as he gazed upon her with her hair cascading down her shoulders. “I’m impressed.”
“A girl does what she can, sir. Now, where does it hurt? Your ankle is obviously hurt, but is there anything else? Your head? Your ribs? Either of your arms?”
“Nay, nay, I am sound, but for the ankle,” he told her. “But I fear it may be broken. It may need to be set, and if so, there is little I might do to help you while I am screaming my head off.”
Elizabeth chuckled. A gentleman who could tease her at such a time surely could not be all bad. Still, she had to remind herself, she barely knew him. And she barely knew Mr. Wickham, either, to know whether or not he had spoken the truth. For now, she was determined to set all of her concerns aside, and do everything in her power to make sure Darcy was all right.
“I need to remove your boot, sir,” she cautioned him. “If you are going to scream, you might wish to take a breath first.”
Darcy smiled at her, but his face soon fell as she began working at the fasteners. Quite soon, she gave a tug, and the half-boot slid free. He yelped, though he managed not to yell.
“So far, so good,” he panted through clenched teeth, but did not manage another smile.
Elizabeth worked off the stocking with slow, gentle movements, but she was certain it must pain him greatly. “The bone is displaced, sir. I am not sure if I’m strong enough on my own to put it back.”
“You must try, Elizabeth,” he told her. “We cannot allow it to set in, or it would only become worse. We may have waited too long as it is.”
With a nod, Elizabeth determined how best to move the ankle to set it up properly, and then, without warning, she gave a very hard tug. There was a bit of a crunching sound, but when she let go, the ankle was straight as an arrow.
“Sorry, sir, b
ut it looks much better,” she said, setting a hand at his cheek to sooth him as he whimpered, biting down on his lip. “You did very well. Now, I must find something around here to immobilize it.”
In the end, Elizabeth found four stout branches from among the kindling she’d gathered, and brought them over. The trouble was, she had nothing good to tie them on with. Then, a thought came to her which, though a bit embarrassing, seemed like her best bet. Reaching into her décolletage, she tugged out the length of lace ribbon that she normally kept there to hide that bit of her anatomy.
Darcy’s eyes went round with both surprise and appreciation as he watched what she was doing. Not until she began to wrap the length of fabric about the ankle, fashioning a splint, did he comprehend why she had begun to undress herself in front of him. Rather, his gaze had met with hers, and she could see a war raging between his politeness, and a perfectly normal male reaction.
“Miss Bennet, have you any idea what you must look like to someone when they find us?” he asked her. “With your hair undone, and without your lace? And pray, what are you going to use if anything else goes wrong? Oh no, there shall be no denial from your lips, when I have spoken to your father. I am too much of a gentleman to allow it.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “I do not remember giving you permission to allow me anything, sir. You cannot wish to marry me for duty. Not after everything you have told me about your life with Anne. Besides which, any wife you take now must surely do her duty, and produce your heir. I do not think I could do such acts with someone I did not love.”
Darcy caught Elizabeth by the hand, and pulled her closer to him. “My dear, you hardly know me. How do you know we could not learn to love each other? And, of all the actions in a marriage, the one required to get an heir is the best.”
Without any further warning, he surged upwards, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that left her quite breathless.
Elizabeth pulled backwards, and landed with a thump on her backside. “Mr. Darcy!”
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet,” he said, his eyes somewhat unfocussed now. “It is all the pain. I think it has confused me greatly. I pray that you will forget my ungentlemanly manners. Perhaps I am more eager to speak to your father than you believe.”
“I have not searched the whole house, sir,” she said softly as she got to her feet again. “Maybe the old man left behind some laudanum or something. Lie still, and rest. I will have a look around. Perhaps there may even be something here we could make into a meal.”
“You are incredible, my dear,” Darcy told her, and then passed out.
Elizabeth smiled. “Well, at least while he is like that, he won’t be in pain anymore.”
She began to look throughout the small cottage, room by room. Discovering a bed with blankets, she thought that sometime she would return there to sleep, and moved on. A second bedroom housed a much larger bed, and inside of a large armoire which also had drawers, she found what she was looking for. Well, at least in part. The dark powder was still in need of alcohol to be of any service.
Further inspection of the room produced a hidden bottle of brandy beneath the bed itself, and Elizabeth soon brought the two ingredients back down to the main room. Mr. Darcy was sleeping, so she could not give a dose of the medicine to him yet, and instead she set it on a little table nearby and headed into the kitchen to see if any form of food might still be on hand in the place.
Discovering a sealed canister of flour, she mixed some up with water and spices and boiled it, making something that resembled a pudding or gravy. She boiled some rice she’d found as well, and poured the mixture on top of it, then mixed it all together and served up a couple of bowls of the stuff. It was not the best food she’d ever produced, but at least it would put something in their bellies.
Darcy was awake when she returned, and he seemed to have drunk the makeshift laudanum as well. He smiled as he realized she was returning with something to eat, and accepted the bowl gratefully.
“How did you manage to create a palatable meal, Miss Bennet?” he asked her. “I never would have dreamed up such a repast, if our tables had been turned.”
“Well, I have been taught to cook, though I don’t do it daily,” she answered, shrugging. “I suppose I was guided by two things; my stomach, and my taste buds. If one is hungry enough, they will surely figure something out.”
“Such a beautiful, talented, intelligent creature,” he said, glancing at her with something akin to affection in his eyes. “I cannot wait to know you better.”
Elizabeth blushed and shook her head. She couldn’t decide if his words pleased her, or filled her with alarm. But for Wickham’s assertions, she would have no difficulty in repeating his sentiments word for word.
Chapter Thirteen
Now that his belly was full and his pain had diminished, Darcy was wide awake, and all too aware of Elizabeth’s close proximity. The memory of that kiss was still assailing his lips, and he wanted nothing more than an excuse to fit his mouth to hers once again.
“Pray, Miss Elizabeth, what were you doing out walking with that storm rolling in anyway? You must have known it was coming.”
“In truth, sir, I had walked much farther, but had turned back because of it,” Elizabeth admitted. “Longbourn itself is a comfortable enough home, and my sisters are good company, even if my mother might occasionally get on my nerves. Yet, with the visit from my cousin, and other visitors which troubled me greatly, I felt a keen need to be away for a time.”
“Other visitors?” he asked curiously. “Pray, what visitor had come, who would cause you to flee into a growing storm?”
“In truth, sir, it was Mr. Wickham,” she admitted. “My younger sisters went into Meryton today to shop for some lace, and when they returned he had joined them.”
“Did Mr. Wickham do something to displease or upset you, madam?” he asked with a vengeful frown.
“No, he did not behave in any way improperly,” Elizabeth replied. “It was not his actions, but his words, which greatly troubled me. He spoke in great detail of his childhood at Pemberley, and the friendship the two of you once shared. Yet, I cannot understand how he can paint you in one manner, when everything I have seen of you clearly paints another.”
“If you wish to understand me better, Miss Elizabeth, you will certainly not manage it by listening to anything from that quarter,” he told her, his tone somewhat severe. “Mr. Wickham has manners which can easily gain him new friends, but whether or not he can keep them long is quite up for debate. In any case, I would advise you and your sisters to steer well clear of him. He is the worst sort of rake and libertine.”
“And on what proofs do you base your accusations, sir? If I am to believe every word a gentleman speaks simply because he is meant to speak truthfully, then I should want nothing more to do with a monster like you.”
Darcy scoffed. “I can well imagine what sort of fanciful tales Wickham might spread about me in my absence, for his words are always meant to suit his current purpose. That he should speak ill of me to you can only tell me that he perceived no dislike for me to begin with. Believe me, my dear, you do not want him to single you out.”
“I think, sir, he has already done so,” said Elizabeth, blushing. “Mr. Collins was quite put out when Wickham usurped his place beside me during tea. And while I do think the new companion was an upgrade, the tension created in the room, with all the male attentions centered on me, was a most disagreeable feeling.”
Darcy smiled. “You shall have to disappoint both of them now, my dear. It is me you are about to marry.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “You are a most determined tormentor yourself, Mr. Darcy. I know that you must be teasing me. It is certain nobody could think we had been doing anything of a compromising nature when you lie there with such an injury.”
Darcy’s smile turned naughty. “I can assure you, madam, there are any number of ways we might still accomplish such a mission without the use of an ankle—though most would requ
ire you to participate willingly.”
Blushing further, Elizabeth gasped, “Sir, I am not sure I should remain in this room if you persist in talking in such a way. I believe that laudanum must have loosened your tongue most abominably.”
“Would you care to discover how much personally?” he asked, shocked at himself for asking such a thing. But she was quite correct in her assertions about the medicine. He seldom took an opiate unless he was intent on going to sleep, and had never before made use of such a drug before endeavoring to talk to a beautiful young lady.
Now Elizabeth was trembling as she looked at him speculatively. By the slight parting of her lips and the darkening of her eyes, he knew well enough that she was actually considering the notion he’d just put into her head quite actively, but he could not move toward her to encourage her acceptance. If another kiss was to be had, it must be by her own instigation.
