A Very Austen Romance

by Robin Helm

  This story may include excerpts and/or short passages paraphrased from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813) which is in the public domain.

  The first draft of A Step Too Far was posted serially at BeyondAusten.com August through October 2019.

  Editing suggestions by Gayle Mills and Robin Helm.

  CHAPTER 1

  Something is very wrong.

  The thought drifted in and out of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s mind as she slowly became aware of her surroundings… and the pain.

  Her left arm was twisted beneath her. Her neck was bent at such a strange angle that her chin jutted into her chest, which was probably the cause of her terrible headache.

  Why would she move into such an awkward position while she slept?

  Her mouth was incredibly dry. Had she slept with her mouth open? She tried to swallow, but that only made her cough, making the ache in her head pound.

  She straightened her neck. A sharp agony throbbed through her, overpowering every other sensation. Moving further would take a monumental effort. Once she was still again, this new pain slowly eased.

  Was she ill?

  Whatever she rested upon was unyielding and rigid. This was not her bed.

  Where was she?

  She opened her eyes. Too bright! Needles of fire pierced and spread throughout her mind. She snapped her eyelids closed and covered them with her right hand.

  Taking several deep breaths, she knew if she did not calm, she would never sort this through.

  The air smelled of the earth, pine needles, and decomposing leaves. Birdsong. Yes, birdsong—and quite near.

  Had she fallen asleep out of doors?

  She would have to open her eyes again to know. Gathering courage, she was more cautious this time, squinting to open her eyes just a little.

  Moaning, she forced herself to ignore the pain and blinked rapidly until her eyes became accustomed to the light.

  Yes, she was outside.

  Eventually, the view came into focus. Netherfield was in the distance. Why was it sideways? She blinked some more, moving only her eyes.

  She was lying on her side, halfway down the cliff-side of Oakham Mount, on the five-foot-wide ledge that ran along it.

  Good heavens! How did she fall asleep here?

  Memories flooded her mind. Standing near the edge of Oakham Mount, she saw something of interest and took a step. The ground gave way.

  It was her own fault, really. She knew better than to get so close to the edge, which had been slowly deteriorating. It was fortunate she had not been completely buried in a landslide.

  The sound of horse hooves came from above and behind her, up on the Mount. Attempting to turn her head to call for help, squinting her eyes closed, she cried out at the throbbing that exploded in her skull.

  A man yelled from above, “Over here!”

  Hurried footsteps. A sliding sound. Dirt and pebbles fell across her face.

  She clamped her eyes more firmly shut and blew outward, making very unladylike noises to clear the gravel from her mouth.

  Panic welled in her chest. If the slide began again, she might be covered this time and not be able to breathe. She cupped her good hand over her mouth and nose. More dirt made its way through between her fingers.

  A gloved hand brushed her face.

  Who was it?

  She wiped her eyes then opened them, blinking rapidly.

  A man she had never seen before leaned over her. Dark unruly waves of hair framed a handsome face and strong jaw.

  “Thank God you are alive, madam,” he said. “I apologize, but the usual rules of propriety cannot apply in the precarious situation in which we find ourselves in. I must ascertain how badly you are injured before trying to move you.”

  Elizabeth made her best attempt to stifle her exclamations while his strong hands rolled her just a little and gingerly moved her left arm to its normal position. He then slowly rolled her all the way onto her back. The pain eased a bit once she cradled her injured arm with the other.

  Once she recovered enough to open her eyes again, she looked up into the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen—almost black. Even upside down, he was handsome. Concern was etched into the lines of his face as his gaze moved over her. When he again looked her in the eye, her breath caught, and for a moment, she was distracted from her injuries by a strong sense of home.

  “Can you move, madam?”

  She nodded. Agony burst throughout her head.

  She should have learned that lesson by now. This day had been packed with unwise actions on her part.

  “Your right arm is sound, at least. Now show me, please—move your lower limbs.”

  She bent her legs without too much discomfort. She estimated nothing more serious than scrapes and bruises there.

  “Very good. Now, I am sorry, but I must continue to take liberties. You are bleeding.” A soft cloth wiped at moistness on her cheek, then touched against a very painful part of her forehead.

  She winced, but tried not to pull away.

  More hoof beats. A gravelly thump, as if a person jumped from their horse. A masculine voice sounded from above. “Good job finding her, Darcy.”

  Mr. Darcy. It was good to put a name to the face.

  “Bingley! Do not get any closer to the edge; the ground is not stable. My coming down earlier caused the earth to slide onto the lady,” called Mr. Darcy. “See if you can lower down a canteen.”

  Shuffling noises from above indicated Mr. Bingley had moved away.

  Mr. Darcy turned back to her and asked, “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “Did your escort go for help, Miss Bennet?”

  She remembered not to shake her head. “I was walking alone. Longbourn is my father’s estate.” She pointed over the Mount towards home. “Oakham Mount is the boundary.”

  Mr. Bingley lowered the canteen on a rope. “Is the lady all right?” he asked.

  “Miss Bennet has hit her head, and I believe her arm is broken. Do you have anything we can use for a sling?”

  Mr. Bingley must have gestured, for she heard no answer.

  Mr. Darcy poured water onto his handkerchief and dabbed at her head with the damp cloth. When he brought it away from her head, it had quite a bit of blood and dirt on it.

  Mr. Darcy said, “I beg your pardon again, Miss Bennet, but this is the only fabric I have that is long enough for a sling.” He untied his cravat and helped her to sit up.

  “May I have some water, please?”

  He helped her take a few sips. It was such a relief; she felt much better.

  No matter how gentle he tried to be, tying the sling around her body and setting the arm into it was a painful undertaking. Gritting her teeth, she was proud she did not scream through the whole ordeal.

  Finally, it was over. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment to recover. When she was able to think again, she asked, “How did you know where I was, sir?”

  “I happened to be looking in the direction of the hill and saw the ground give way as you stood at the edge. There was a dust cloud.”

  Ah, yes; now she remembered more. Two men rode across the field belonging to Netherfield Park. Her family had heard rumours of someone leasing the place, and she was curious about them. She stepped forward to get a better look…

  “This is not the most proper way to meet my new neighbours,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle and immediately regretted it. She groaned.

  “How are we going to raise her from there?” Bingley asked.

  Mr. Darcy looked around then said, “I will lift her and hand her up to you.”

  Elizabeth looked upwards, then at him, examining his arms. While he seemed quite muscular, could he really hold her up above his head like that? In her opinion, he would have to be Hercules to accomplish it.

  “I thank you, sir, but there is no need,” Elizabeth said. “I do not wish to cause any further inconvenience. Since you have declared my legs sound�
��see there,” she pointed in front of her. “We can follow the ridge. It leads into the woods, gradually declining. If you can help me stand, I will walk down. There is a path near the end that leads to my home. Though I might need a bit of help getting up the slope, the rest of the way is downhill and then level.”

  Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened. “Walk off the cliff?”

  “Yes, sir. I will be fine. I am not afraid of heights.”

  He nodded and, from behind, he slipped his hands under her arms to help her stand, then held on until she was steady on her feet. Mr. Darcy followed closely behind her, his arm a barrier between her and a drop of twenty or thirty feet.

  “How far is it to Longbourn?” he asked.

  “About two miles.”

  His tone was skeptical “It is one mile to Netherfield.”

  “I would be much better at home, sir.”

  A few steps later, a wave of dizziness overcame her. She leaned into the cliff wall; gravel fell onto her head from above. Pulling her chin to her chest, she lifted her right arm to protect her head.

  Suddenly the world was all topsy-turvy. Arms encircled her. Warmth coursed through her.

  It took a few moments before she realized she was moving more swiftly now, but not of her own accord.

  Elizabeth slowly moved her head upward. The warmth she felt was Mr. Darcy. He must have scooped her up for she was now in his arms, shuffling sideways along the ledge. She suspected the ledge was not wide enough to keep her head from dragging along the cliff wall if he moved forward normally.

  Goodness gracious! She had never been so close to any man that was not her father, and that was only once when she was a little girl and he had to carry her when she was injured. Similar to this situation, in a way, but that experience had been nothing like this. She flushed from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

  “Please put your arm down, Miss Bennet. I cannot see well with it up.”

  Her right arm was still over her head, partially blocking his face. “Oh!” she pulled it down.

  “Actually, it would be beneficial if you put your arm around my neck and held on.” His breath whispered across her face.

  Yes, that made sense, but she was already too close to him.

  “Your arm, please, Miss Bennet?” He clenched his teeth. “Try not to lean away from me. It is making this more difficult. If we do not put propriety aside for the moment, I might drop you off the cliff.”

  If he dropped her off the cliff, it would be a problem. She did as he asked.

  She could feel his heart beat against her side. His hair brushed across her hand with every step. Where was her glove?

  Heavens, she hurt all over—her arm and head were the most painful. Although she had not seen them, she knew there were scrapes on her legs, and they felt as if they must be bleeding, too. Her ribs ached terribly where his hand was holding her.

  Concentrating on the pain was easier than thinking about being so close to Mr. Darcy.

  He made his way down the ledge into the woods. Mr.—um, oh, what was his name? Bingley, yes! Mr. Bingley was waiting there at the end of the ledge with two horses.

  Mr. Darcy asked, “Do you think you can sit a horse, Miss Bennet?”

  “I believe walking would be better, sir.”

  “It has already been proven that you can barely stand, let alone walk, even for a few steps. Certainly you would not be able to traverse the distance required.”

  She sighed. He was as stubborn as she was. “Then yes, I believe I can sit a horse. But there is no sidesaddle.”

  “You will have to sit astride.”

  That was fine with her; she had done it many times before. It was much easier to ride that way. “Then you must both promise me something.”

  He turned his head towards her. They were so close, their lips almost touched.

  She flushed again.

  He craned his neck to pull his head back. “What is it?”

  “You must promise never to mention that I rode astride to my mother, or I shall never hear the end of it.”

  He smiled. Oh, what a magnificent sight to behold!

  “I promise,” he stated. “I am sure Bingley will, as well.”

  “Thank you.”

  They approached Mr. Bingley and the horses.

  “Hold Diabolus steady, Bingley. I will place Miss Bennet in the saddle.”

  “I only hope the beast allows me to do so,” Mr. Bingley said with some trepidation.

  “Diabolus?” Elizabeth asked. “On a normal day, I would not mind riding a horse named after the devil, but I am unsure I am up to the task today.”

  Mr. Darcy chuckled. “It is most inconvenient that you know some Latin, Miss Bennet. Up you go.”

  He put his hands on her waist and began to lift her.

  “Wait!”

  He placed her back on the ground.

  “I must fix my skirts.” She leaned forward and almost fell on her face. Mr. Darcy caught her. Again.

  “Sorry, sir!” she said over the pounding in her head.

  “May I ask what you are trying to do?” he asked.

  “I have found it much easier and less revealing when riding astride if I make my skirts into trousers, in a way.”

  “Let me—”

  “Absolutely not, Mr. Darcy. You cannot do this for me.”

  He held her steady once more as she leaned over and pulled the rear-hem of her skirts through to the front and tucked it into the pocket of her gown. Usually, she did this while alone. Her ankles and part of her calves were completely exposed. She let out her breath in a huff. There was nothing else she could do.

  “Bingley, get the blankets out of both saddlebags,” Mr. Darcy directed, pointedly looking away from her ankles.

  Mr. Bingley did so, then moved to hold Diabolus’s reins while Mr. Darcy lifted Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth settled unsteadily into the saddle. It would take a great deal of effort to remain on the horse all the way to Netherfield.

  Mr. Darcy swung up behind her.

  “Sir! What are you doing?”

  Mr. Bingley quickly handed a blanket to his friend. Mr. Darcy arranged it over her left leg and grabbed the reins with his other hand. “You are barely able to keep your seat, Miss Bennet.”

  Mr. Bingley handed him the other blanket. Mr. Darcy draped it over her right side.

  What an excellent idea; she was no longer exposed.

  Elizabeth almost laughed when he tucked the ends of the blankets between them. She did not think that, if seen, it would prevent anyone from claiming she was compromised, though it did make her more comfortable about the situation.

  “Once the horse is moving, you would not remain in the saddle if you were up here alone. I will ride with you. I have done this many times with my sister.”

  “But I am not your sister. Someone will see us!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

  He wrapped his arms around her to hold the reins and spoke near her ear. “It is too late; we have already been seen, Miss Bennet. Some boys came into the field soon after I made my way down to you. Did you not hear them applaud as I caught you when you lost your balance?”

  “No. I did not.” Heat rose to her face once again. My entire family will be ruined.

  “The boys spoke to Bingley in the woods as he waited for us.”

  Mr. Bingley mounted his horse. “They knew you, Miss Bennet, and where you live. I sent them to your home with a message for your family to meet us at Netherfield, then on to fetch the apothecary.”

  She groaned. There was no use in trying to convince them to take her to Longbourn now.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Let us be on our way.” Darcy indicated to his horse that he should move slowly. Bingley fell into step beside them.

  Miss Bennet was correct. This was definitely not like riding with his sister. Trying to imagine that she was Georgiana was impossible.

  Miss Bennet winced, distracting him from his wholly inappropriate thoughts.

  With his arm
s wrapped around her, it was difficult to avoid her injured arm. With a moan, she slowly moved the hand of her arm up onto the opposite shoulder and cupped her elbow, pushing it further inward.

  “You are very brave, Miss Bennet.” It was the truth. Most ladies he knew would have been in hysterics a long time ago.

  “Unfortunately, I am no stranger to injuries, sir, and to be honest, I think it is not broken this time. I believe the arm has come out of the shoulder joint.”

  A minute or two later, her eyes drifted closed and her perfectly upright posture relaxed against his chest. Then she bolted into a stiffened position once again.

  “Miss Bennet, I would understand if you reclined. You must be exhausted.”

  “For some reason, the pain in my head seems to be making me very sleepy.”

  “Lean back. I would rather you did not fall off the horse.”

  Miss Bennet did not argue this time. She turned a bit more and rested her back on his chest and left arm. The back of her head leaned on his shoulder. Soon her respiration evened out.

  Some of her hair had come free of its pins. Long, dark brown curls spiraled downward, seemingly forever. Some pins must have simply loosened, as well, but that hair was still bunched up into them. Soft, silky locks brushed against his own bare neck and chest where his cravat should have been.

  Now that she was asleep, he could think of nothing other than having her rest against him. It was nearly driving him mad. He inhaled slowly, but deeply, hoping to compose himself, but her scent of lavender and roses only complicated the matter.

  When he had first made his way down the cliff to her—after ascertaining she was still alive, of course—as he brushed the dirt from her face, he could not help noticing she was pretty. However, once she opened her eyes—egad! Those eyes transformed her into quite the beauty. There was an instant allure that he still could not shake. When he lifted her to carry her off the cliff, she had fit against him perfectly. Now she did even more so.

  If he bent his neck, his cheek would be flush with her forehead. He fought the sudden urge to kiss it.

  He scolded himself inwardly. Was he completely insensitive? She was badly injured, and all he could think about was how tempting she was?