Chapter 1 #3
He looked up, his expression shifting from consideration to amazement.
“Miss Elizabeth! Whatever are you doing here on such a day?” the gentleman demanded.
Elizabeth suppressed a huff of exasperation. She was not the one nearly knee-deep in water, after all!
“I have come to see my sister Jane, who is ill,” she replied concisely. “Now step a little closer, Mr. Darcy, if you can catch my scarf, and tie it securely to the dog’s collar, I am certain I can pull him to safety, which would allow you to climb out of the stream’s banks with far more ease.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed at these words, but rather to her surprise, he accepted the idea immediately.
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, carefully shifting the dog to his left arm while holding out his right hand toward her.
Twice, he missed the scarf that she threw at him, which required her to draw it back and try again, but the third time he caught the knitted cloth, whereupon it was the work of a moment to slip it through the spaniel’s collar.
Then, after he was certain it was well tied, he lowered the spaniel into the water and said, “Go along, Maxwell.”
Elizabeth pulled firmly, and the dog paddled bravely toward the water’s edge. The pup crawled up the bank, assisted by the gentle pull of the scarf tied to his collar, until he was deposited at Elizabeth’s feet, shivering and thoroughly pathetic.
Elizabeth was not an expert on dogs, but given the chilly wind, she was fearful the poor thing might expire in short order if not dried and warmed.
She quickly pulled off her shawl and, heedless of the mud, knelt down to wrap the spaniel in it, and then lifted him into her arms. Maxwell seemed pathetically grateful.
He burrowed closer to her, and she wrapped her arms around him.
The sound of a creaking branch drew her attention next, and she looked up to see Mr. Darcy some ten feet downstream, climbing up the bank with the aid of a branch conveniently drooping over the muddy waters.
She found herself strangely tongue-tied at the sight.
On the one hand, it was a trifle humorous to see the proud master of Pemberley so bedraggled.
On the other, his breeches clung tightly to his calves and thighs, and his shirt was plastered to his arms and chest and torso.
She was genuinely impressed by the strength in his manly limbs.
For all that Mr. Darcy was an annoying man, he was at least strong and well-muscled, and her face reddened as she admired what had been revealed.
“Are you well, sir?” she asked, forcing her eyes to his face.
“I am,” Darcy said, striding over and reaching out his arms. “Please let me take Maxwell, and we should hurry to Netherfield before you catch cold.”
Admiration gave way to exasperation. She was not exactly a feeble woman!
For a moment, she was inclined to refuse, but without a doubt Mr. Darcy was far stronger than she. She obediently stepped forward to place the spaniel into Mr. Darcy’s arms, and then she began marching briskly toward Netherfield Hall.
It took but a few seconds for the tall gentleman to catch up with her, and for a minute, the pair strode in silence.
“I am surprised to see you out on such a day,” Mr. Darcy finally said, “but I can only be grateful. I am not certain if I could have safely carried Maxwell up that bank without falling, and if we had fallen, it could have proven catastrophic for Bingley’s prized spaniel.
So thank you very much, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth felt her eyes bug out in astonishment, and she turned such a bewildered look on her companion that his own expression shifted from grave to confused.
“Is something wrong?” he asked in a genuinely puzzled tone.
Elizabeth was well-renowned for being quick of tongue, but she was also courteous. Given the peculiar circumstances, she could hardly speak openly of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, which she knew he returned with enthusiasm.
“No, I am sorry,” she said quickly. “I was merely … that is, how did it happen that you were in the creek with a half-drowned puppy, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy sighed and said, “I was out for a walk this morning and heard a dog barking. I discovered Maxwell grasping a fallen branch in the middle of the creek. I decided I could not go for help since he might well lose his grip, so I climbed in to rescue him, only to realize that getting out would prove difficult. You arrived shortly after that realization, and I am, as I said, very grateful. I only hope that you do not become ill.”
“I will not,” Elizabeth said sharply, and then she added more gently, “I am only a trifle damp from holding Maxwell for a couple of minutes, and I am a sturdy soul. Indeed, given that you were wading around in cold water, I would think you are more likely to fall ill.”
Darcy wrinkled his nose in a surprisingly human way and said, “There is some truth to that. The water was incredibly cold. I have every intention of sitting in front of a fire, possibly wrapped in blankets, after returning to Netherfield.”
“That seems wise,” she replied.