Chapter 7 #2
Even if he did throw away the caution of a decade and approach the girl, he might be rejected, which was a bizarre and incredible thought.
According to Bingley, Darcy had been both proud and unpleasant since he arrived here at Netherfield, or at least to those outside the Netherfield party.
Darcy had considerable pride in his own acumen and intelligence, but he freely admitted that Bingley was far more adept with social niceties than he was himself.
In London, he was well received by nobles and gentry alike. But was that because he was an exemplary person, or because everyone knew of his wealth and status?
“What do you think?” Darcy inquired aloud of his companion. “Am I truly obnoxious and overly proud to those outside my circle?”
Maxwell, the red spaniel, had been trotting around happily, nosing this, nudging that, kicking his heels with sheer delight at being on a walk with a fine human male on a misty morning in November.
At these words, however, the beast sat down and lifted a soulful gaze to the man, his eyes glistening with adoration as he proceeded to pant slowly, his feathery tail wagging slowly back and forth along the ground and accruing a new muddy brown coating.
“You think not?” Darcy inquired, dropping his hand to rub the dog’s ears. “Well, that is a relief, young fellow. I feel certain that your analysis of human behavior is equal to my friend Bingley’s, or perhaps even more reliable.”
Maxwell barked agreeably and wagged his now very dirty tail, slobbering with ardent enthusiasm.
Darcy laughed and rose to his feet, “Well, I am glad that I have made a friend in you, at any rate. But come, I think we could both use a little more exercise, do you not think?”
Maxwell leaped forward happily at these words and man and dog wandered farther down the trail, growing increasingly wet from the still dripping fronds.
After slogging another half mile or so, Darcy was pleased to come upon the road which ran along the northern edge of Netherfield. He was pleasantly exhausted and wished to return to his room for a bath and a change of clothes.
He smiled to himself and took a few eager strides down the road. There was a sudden rustle across the lane and before Darcy could react, Maxwell lunged in front of him in search of a fragrant bird which had fluttered into smelling distance.
Darcy tripped over the dog, falling hard, and yelped in pain.
/
Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in a warm pelisse and woolen gown, was enjoying the chill of a sunny November morning when she heard the barking ahead of her on the road. With a frown, she peered down the road intently, where a fluffy red dot was leaping up and down in the distance.
She spurred Daisy on gently, causing her mare to begin trotting. A second later, the rope in her hand, the one guiding Buttercup, jerked backward slightly. Of course Buttercup, being old and lazy, had no desire to move quickly.
“Come, Buttercup,” Elizabeth commanded, and to the mare’s credit, Buttercup shifted into a sullen jog.
Two minutes later, the red leaping dot had grown into a long legged puppy who was circling around a gentleman who was sitting up cautiously on the side of the road, a man who was …
“Mr. Darcy?!”
Fitzwilliam Darcy looked up, his brow furrowed, his face slightly pale.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he replied tautly.
Elizabeth gazed down at the man with a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassment. The last time she had met Mr. Darcy, she had given him a set down and while she was not ashamed of her words, she felt a little awkward at meeting him in this way, especially since he was apparently not well.
“Are you injured, sir?”
Darcy shifted a little and winced in pain, “I fear so, yes. Maxwell dashed in front of me in pursuit of a bird, and regrettably I tripped over him.”
“Maxwell?” Elizabeth inquired, and then nodded as she carefully swung herself down to the ground. “Oh, the puppy. I am so sorry.”
“At least Maxwell seems all right,” Darcy commented, running a careful hand down the animal’s furry body. “I was afraid I might have lamed him in my fall, as I am a big man to fall on a smallish dog.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose at this remarkable statement. Given Mr. Darcy’s lofty behavior, she would not have expected him to be concerned about the beast responsible, however innocently, for injuring him.
“Is anything broken, Mr. Darcy?” she inquired worriedly, glancing around in search of anyone who might be able to help.
Not surprisingly, no one was in sight. It was still early in the morning, and the only reason Elizabeth was on the road was because she desired to whisk Jane away from Netherfield as soon as possible.
She would not have it said that Miss Bennet of Longbourn overstayed her welcome!
“I hope it is merely a sprain,” Darcy said, trying to rise to his feet before sinking back with soft moan of pain. “It may be broken, however.”
“I can ride to Netherfield and send help or, if you like, you can attempt to mount Buttercup. She is a placid horse, but I do not know if you are able to climb onto her with your injured leg.”
Darcy looked up at Elizabeth eagerly, “I would like to try, Miss Elizabeth. The ground is uncomfortable, and I confess to being wet and increasingly cold.”
Elizabeth, noting the gentleman’s pallor and surreptitious shivering, quickly drew Buttercup close to Darcy. Whatever she might feel about the man’s manners, he was injured and in trouble. She must try to get him to safety and warmth as quickly as possible.
“Here, let me assist you to a standing position and then perhaps you can support yourself on Buttercup while you swing your bad leg up?”
Darcy looked worried, “Miss Bennet, I appreciate your offer, but I am a rather heavy man. I would not wish to injure you.”
“Nonsense, sir! I am no porcelain doll; indeed, I am quite strong for my size. You will not be able to rise without my help.”
Reluctantly, Darcy accepted the gloved hand of the lady and, with her assistance, rolled painfully to one foot, keeping his injured leg up. A moment later, he froze in dismay as a new thought occurred to him.
“As I was distracted by my injury, I did not realize until this moment that naturally Miss Bennet rides sidesaddle.”
Elizabeth looked startled at this, “Oh dear, yes. I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. As I said before, I can ride to Netherfield for help if you wish. Though it is possible that riding side saddle, while unusual, would actually be gentler on your damaged leg.”
Darcy blew out a slow breath. It was true enough that it would be easier if he did not need to swing one leg over the horse. His pride shrank from making such an exhibition of himself, but no one seemed to be out so early and he was chilled to the bone.
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said finally, struggling to sound dignified. “I would like to attempt to mount Buttercup.”
“One moment, sir,” Elizabeth urged, pushed Buttercup closer to the wounded man.
Darcy leaned on the mare’s fat flank and grasped the horse’s saddle.
After a considerable struggle, which caused a surge of pain in his injured leg, he found himself sitting sidesaddle on the horse.
It was a bizarre, uncomfortable, and peculiar position, but at least he was off the frozen ground.
Maxwell seemed to approve, as he ran up and barked cheerfully as if celebrating Darcy’s great triumph.
Miss Elizabeth too seemed pleased. “That is much better,” she exclaimed, swinging back up to Daisy. “Come, Mr. Darcy, and Maxwell, on to Netherfield!”