His uncharacteristic response concerned me. Bingleyneverhad too much on his mind. He had the special talent to live from moment to moment and see the silver lining in every cloud. It was a cheerful way to live, if not oftentimes impractical.
When I continued to regard him with a questioning gaze, he shoved his hand through his hair again and came perilously close to scowling. “Louisa and Caroline believe a match between me and Miss Bennet would be disastrous.”
This was no surprise to me. However, I wondered whether his attachment to Miss Bennet was strong enough to withstand the disapproval of his sisters. “Do you agree?”
“How can I? Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman. Her position is superior to mine! The advantage is all mine.”
His sisters would disagree… vehemently. They would accuse her of marrying Bingley for his fortune. To have any chance of standing up to them, he would do well to prepare a rebuttal. “What of her lack of fortune?”
He scoffed. “What is the benefit of possessing a fortune if it does not provide the freedom to select a wife who looks at me the way she does? I would not want a wife who prefers wealth more than my company, so why would I do the same?”
His reasoning was solid. Had the Bennets been moved by fortune, they would have sunk their claws into me at the first opportunity. I had expected it, but they had rejected me bothtimes the occasion had presented itself. The Bennets might be many things, but they certainly were not afflicted with avarice.
A shadow fell over the pavers, and I turned to see a maid bob a curtsy. “My apologies, Mr. Bingley, but I am sent by Mrs. Hurst to fetch you. She begs you to return to the house immediately.”
Bingley stepped toward her. “What has happened?”
The maid hesitated. “Apparently, Mr. Hurst is unwell. He will not eat his breakfast.”
He and my horse both. Like my horse, Hurst never missed a meal. Perhaps he truly was unwell, but I doubted it.
Bingley sighed and frowned. “I will be in directly.”
Once she had retreated a fair distance, he mumbled, “They are trying to prevent me from calling at Longbourn. I told them I would be going to Lucas Lodge to look at a horse?—.”
“You would have stopped at Longbourn before you returned.”
“Of course I would have! But I did not tellthemthat!” He took his gloves out of his pocket and smacked them against his hand. “Very well. I will do as they bid and send for the apothecary or the surgeon as necessary, but I still wish you would ride the new horse. He is already saddled and looks eager to go.”
This change of plans would have prevented me from calling on my own at Lucas Lodge had Mrs. Bennet’s poor opinion of me not circulated in my mind.
With no other option but to continue as originally planned, I first focused my attention on Bingley’s prospective acquisition. I ran him through his paces, noting his response to my commands. He was quick, if a touch flighty, just as the stable owner had said. The gelding would require a steady hand.
Once I sensed his jitters had subsided and I had no other excuse to delay, I directed his steps to Lucas Lodge. Here I was, making a call I would rather not make on a horse I would rathernot be riding, and for what? To appease a woman whose opinion ought to signify nothing to me.
A thick raindrop plunked against my hat and rolled off the brim. The sky rumbled and cracked, and the gelding shied to the side. I calmed him and glanced at the clouds, grateful to be just a mile or so from Lucas Lodge and shelter. I had not covered half a mile when it began to rain in earnest and became foggy. I nudged the horse faster, tucking my chin under the collar of my greatcoat.
Ahead and to the left of the footpath upon which I rode, a figure emerged. A woman. She was running toward me along the hillside, away from Lucas Lodge. I urged the horse to hurry, intending to get to her before she became ill in the heavy rain or got lost in the fog.
Suddenly, her arms flailed upward. A second later, she disappeared.
By the time I reached her, she was lying in a motionless heap at the bottom of the hill. I dismounted and looked about for something on which to tie the flighty mount’s reins. When there was nothing to be found, I had no choice but to hang onto them. Praying nothing would spook the gelding until I had a firmer grasp on his reins, I dropped to the lady’s side.
She clutched her ankle and groaned, and my heart stopped.
CHAPTER 8
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth reached for her sodden skirts, pulling them down over her legs even as her eyes pinched in pain. She clutched her ankle.
I cursed under my breath. What was she doing here? She was soaked through, as the side where she had slid down the hill was covered in mud. A perfectly reasonable explanation existed, I was certain; every other unlikely encounter with the lady had proven to me that, although circumstances might appear otherwise, Elizabeth was a sensible lady in possession of a rational mind.
She laughed—an unexpected sound but a welcome one, coming from her. “Of course it is you! Who else could it possibly be?”
Feeling more like a hero than an annoyance, I bent down to scoop her up in a swift movement I had performed only the previous day. She draped her arm over my shoulder and looped her arm around the back of my neck in a move we had unintentionally practiced more times than decency would normally allow.
Thunder rumbled, and I began to tighten my grip on the flighty horse’s reins a split second before the sky cracked likea rifle shot. It was too little, too late. The leather tugged free from my grasp, and the horse bolted out of reach before I could attempt to prevent it. With my arms full of Elizabeth Bennet, I was unable to give chase.
“Oh dear,” she mumbled against my throat, sending a wave of liquid heat coursing through my veins.
