Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Elizabeth hissed as she tried to lift her right foot.
Of all the times to stumble on a fall, tonight was most likely the most horrible time of all.
She swiped at a few tears, refusing to be cowered.
The idea of returning to Longbourn to be wed to Mr. Collins was too terrible to contemplate, but the idea of being accosted by wild animals or vagabonds was almost just as terrifying.
Besides, did she really have a choice now?
She, who had prided herself on her independence, was stuck on a field that no one ever used, covered from view by tall grass, with what most certainly felt like a broken ankle.
She was hardly in a position to choose her fate.
She would be lucky, in fact, if anyone found her body once she perished.
More hot tears sprung forward. Elizabeth sniffed them away in vain. She refused to wed Mr. Collins, upon pain of death. It just felt oddly ironic and cruel that the death part seemed to be looming as a far greater possibility than one might expect.
"Elizabeth!" A male voice called out.
She looked up sharply, only to wince from tugging her foot too hard with the movement.
Surely, Mr. Collins wouldn't be approaching her now? It comforted her very little that she was mostly certain the voice was not the onerous parson's.
"Elizabeth," the voice said again.
She turned a more accurate direction this time to see a large, powerful form approaching. She swallowed. Highwaymen did not wear such fine coats, did they? And they most certainly did not know her by her Christian name.
"Who goes there? If you are—”
"Elizabeth." The face finally drew near enough for her to see. "Are you well? You are injured."
Elizabeth panted, confused. "Mr. Darcy! I did not expect—”
"I was taking a walk and saw you distressed." He sounded so worried that Elizabeth very nearly wondered if she was imagining his presence altogether. Perhaps broken ankles made people hallucinate. "Is it your foot?"
"I—” She wet her lips. "I might have broken my ankle."
He nodded, handsome features drawn in a stern frown. He gestured the direction of her legs.
"May I?"
"May you—” She looked at her own twisted limb. “May you what?”
“Assist you.”
“With my foot?”
"I have helped a few friends in the past. And my cousin has taught me quite a few tricks about dealing with sudden injuries."
"Your cousin."
"A colonel in His Majesty's army." He shifted over until he crouched by her legs, facing her. His unbuttoned coat landed around him like a cape. His hands twitched, looking almost eager to aid her. "May I?"
So utterly confused was she that Elizabeth offered her assent. Mr. Darcy tugged back the edges of her coat and dress. Elizabeth hoped he could not see her blush.
Slowly, gingerly, he raised her ankle and tested it from side to side. She hissed in pain on the second turn, pulling back slightly. He held her in place by way of a firm yet gentle hand on her shin. She hardly knew if the gesture comforted her or agitated her more.
"It is not broken, but severely turned," he said in a calm, firm voice. "It will inevitably swell.
We must see to your care immediately."
She hardly knew what to think of his use of the word 'we'—as if he was in any way in charge of caring for an injured runaway daughter.
"I cannot pretend to know or to approve of why you are in your current predicament," he said the first sane words he had since his unexpected approach, "but I assume we shall have plenty of time to discuss the particulars in Netherfield."
"Netherfield." A note of panic crept into her voice. "I—I cannot afford to let anyone know of my whereabouts."
His frown deepened. "Miss Bennet, you need a physician's care."
"You said yourself that you know how to aid people with such injuries. Perhaps with a few suggested remedies, you can let me be on my way."
"Certainly not." He growled, sounding more like the imperious man she knew him to be. "I cannot allow you to go unaided in your current condition."
"The Bingleys cannot know. They will tell my family."
"It would be natural to assume your family must be notified."
"Please do not." She reached forward to cling onto his arm, groaning in pain right after. "I can explain. But I cannot possibly go back to Longbourn."
Mr. Darcy frowned in obvious consideration, perhaps wondering if he should exert his authority over a country maiden or not.
"Very well," he surprised her by saying after a moment's pause. "We can use the servant's entrance. Bingley and his sisters do not need to know. It was as good of a compromise as she was going to get.
"Thank you," said Elizabeth, before she was suddenly lifted up into his arms and being carried off to Netherfield.
He tried his best to keep his anger and curiosity under control.
The distracting feeling of Elizabeth Bennet in his arms was almost enough to banish all other thoughts, but having to ensure that he did nothing to aggravate her injury reminded Darcy constantly that she ought to never have been in such a predicament to begin with.
With some careful maneuvering, they managed to slip inside an unguarded servant's entrance, and Darcy lowered his quarry onto a low, wooden bench down a small side hall.
The cobwebs made for an uncomfortable setting, but at least they were promised the possibility of some privacy in a neglected corner like this.
Elizabeth whimpered as he slid her onto the bench, and she hissed once more as Darcy crouched down to examine her ankle. The swelling had already begun.
"You must rest your foot. There must be no walking.
It would be best, in fact, to lie down for a few days.
" he said before retreating from the edges of her skirts.
It had not even occurred to him that he was risking her reputation until he saw the blush on her cheeks.
He withdrew and stood to a more respectable distance, although the hallway kept them close to each other.
"I cannot afford such delay," she insisted, stubborn despite her obvious embarrassment.
“I do not confess to know why you need to be traipsing about at nightfall, but surely you must see the futility of pressing on.”
“I will manage.”
"Miss Bennet, I insist. I may not know what kind of situation you believe yourself to be in, but your predicament clearly renders further travel on foot impossible. Bingley would be willing enough to host you."
"I cannot stay. I must go." She tried to stand, only to cry out in pain and land back on the bench. Darcy wanted both to embrace her and to shake her until she saw sense.
"Miss Bennet, I urge you to stop insisting on the impossible."
"If I do not leave Hertfordshire within the night, then I shall be landing in a far graver condition, I guarantee you, good sir."
"What can possibly be so dire as to warrant risking your well-being for a few days' delay?"
"My business is my own."
"And yet your well-being is not."
She met his eye, the sheen of anger that was there before had softened into something more fragile. "I do not think my well-being has anything whatsoever to do with you, Mr. Darcy."
She was right, and the truth stung. Darcy swallowed, forcing himself to be thankful that she did not think of them as being anywhere close to an understanding.
At least his recent efforts at temperance were bearing fruit.
The lady's family might be aiming for his fortune, but she herself did not seem think she was anywhere close to it.
"My honor is at stake as a gentleman," he said instead. "You can hardly expect me to walk away after finding you in distress."
To his surprise, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Darcy cursed himself for making such open mention of her predicament, although her insistence drove him to it.
He hesitated for the briefest of moments before saying, "I wish only to be of service, Miss Bennet. And if you would but trust me with whatever is causing you to believe the need to remove yourself from the bosom of your family, I promise to be the very soul of discretion."
He watched as she obviously considered whether or not to trust him.
"My family has betrayed me." Her lips quivered, her innate strength evident despite her circumstances. He listened as patiently as he could. "Mr. Collins proposed this morning. And while I had anticipated my mother's eagerness for the match, I did not expect my father to insist upon it as well."
Her revelation cut Darcy deep, sending a chill through his heart. His Elizabeth—married to that toady of a parson, forever doomed to kowtow to Aunt Catherine? He'd thought the Bennets to have better sense than that.
"And while I would like to hope that there is a slim chance my father can still be made to see reason," she continued, incognizant of the war in Darcy's chest, "I fear that my mother would resort to drastic measures—and that any regrets would only come to pass after I had already been marched to the altar under duress. "
"Surely, there—” Darcy faltered. As a man, he had the freedom to escape an unwanted match.
As a woman, however, a few scandalous rumors would be enough to demand lifelong penance. It was frightfully unfair, and his heart clenched for her.
"Even you understand my desperation then." She sighed, looking so deflated that Darcy once more wished to gather her into his arms. "If my mother gets wind of my attempt to escape, then she shall have me under lock and key until the marriage register is signed."
"She cannot force you to wed."
"But she can ruin my reputation enough to warrant my compliance, if only for my sisters' sake."
Darcy frowned, unable to argue with the harsh truths she revealed. "Where shall you go?"
"To my uncle and aunt in London, the only rational relatives I have left."
"Can your family not locate you there?"
"They can, but by then I shall have a day's start. I can seek other means of safe haven then."
Darcy felt his frown deepen. London, for all its conveniences, was hardly a place of safety for a genteel lady on her own. "You cannot travel in this state."
"I must try." She looked up towards him, fear and determination a potent mix in her eyes. He could not help but admire her more. "Anything is better than a life as Mrs. Collins."
Darcy could think of plenty of other situations that were worse—and more fatal. But since he hardly wished to see the lively Elizabeth Bennet chained to a man such as Mr. Collins for life, he understood her perspective for what it was.
"How do you intend to go?"
"The stage. Or, if I can afford it, the mail coach."
"In your present condition—”
"Again, I must try. If you would be so kind as to transport me to the coaching inn."
"No!" Darcy scoffed. This was madness. A mere hour ago, he was struggling to forget the woman. And yet now, he was about to utter something that would bring him closer to her, not farther away. "I can take you to London."
"You?"
"I had plans to depart Netherfield first thing in the morning. No one would wonder if I left a few hours earlier. A note can explain all."
"I did not know you intended to leave us so soon. I suppose our country manners have tired you."
On the contrary, hers had entranced him. And therein lay the problem.
He was about to leave Hertfordshire. And yet instead of fleeing the very person he had to flee, he was offering to bring her with him.
"Hardly. I simply have some business in town."
"I would not wish to impose."
"If you believe your situation dire enough to require such desperation, then allow me to extend whatever help I can."
She looked at him with gratitude, and Darcy knew he was lost.