As disinterested as I tried to sound, I was not unsympathetic to her plight. Our situation was a delicate one, but she required medical attention. “I am not unqualified to help you, having wrapped many ankles for myself and my cousins over the years. I will treat you with the same skill and care they demanded of me.”
She sucked in a breath, chewing on her lip and looking at me askance. I held still, palms up, hoping to encourage her trust. After a long minute, she nodded her head decisively and scooted backward to afford me easier access to her foot. “Very well, Mr. Darcy. I suppose refusing your help will only delay my recovery.” She flipped the blanket off her foot.
The flesh over her ankle was swollen. Blood vessels sprawled over the tender skin, which was already turning purple. I could not bring myself to poke and prod around the bruising joint until I had first eased some of her discomfort. Taking a deep breath, reminding myself the Lord was watching, I slowly, carefully pressed my chilled hands over her ankle. Her flesh was hot to the touch.
She closed her eyes and moaned. “That feels divine.”
Dear Lord!Was this how my assistance was to be rewarded? Overheated and light-headed, I considered standing out in the cold storm just so I could once again cool her skin with my touch.
Thankfully, this madness quickly gave way to reasonable thought, and I resumed the role of a noble nurse. Gently, I tested the small bones around Elizabeth’s ankle, feeling for anything out of place. I moved her foot cautiously to one side and thento the other, focusing all my attention on the task. When she winced, so did I. When she sucked air through her teeth, I did, too. I had performed this service for my cousins many times, but never had I handled a limb with as much care.
Cradling her heel in my hand, I concluded, “Nothing seems to be broken, but your ankle is badly sprained. The surgeon will likely confirm it is nothing two weeks of complete rest cannot heal.”
She opened her eyes and gazed right at me, crestfallen. I understood her. For most people, two weeks would be nothing, but to Elizabeth, it would feel like an eternity. Two weeks without activity would feel like a punishment to me, too.
Sucking in a breath, she squared her shoulders. “I have always been a fast healer.”
Her defiance made me smile. “Two weeks will pass quickly.” My mind raced with ideas to help her pass the time agreeably.
“If you say so…” She said it with so much doubt that I firmly resolved to prove my claim.
“Permit me to wrap it for you?”
She nodded, and I grabbed one end of the sheet, making a mental note to purchase fresh bed linens in the village and replace what I would ruin. After ripping a strip long enough to suit my purpose, I wrapped the fabric snugly around her ankle. Reluctant to relinquish my hold on her foot although aware the only proper thing to do now was to maintain my distance, I asked, “It is not too tight, is it?”
She shook her head.
I set her foot upon the pillow on the edge of the bed and reluctantly moved back to my chair, wishing I had something else to do to occupy my hands and my mind. Wishing the storm would pass. Wishing it would rage into the night.
What was wrong with me?
“How did we come to be here?” she asked.
A conspiracy of the fates. A coincidence of unbelievable proportions. A fluke I could not explain and to which I could lend no credibility, though I knew it to be the absolute truth. I was not fit to provide an adequate answer, so my response was another question. “What do you mean?”
“What were you doing when the storm hit? I mean, obviously you were riding, but… where were you going?” she asked, more plainly.
ThatI could answer easily enough. “I was on my way to Lucas Lodge at Sir William’s invitation.”
Her eyebrows arched upward into twin question marks. “You have befriended the gentleman?”
Finally, I had done something to cast myself in a favorable light! Her surprise delighted me and lent me humor. “Should I not better acquaint myself with my friend’s neighbors? Or do you consider Meryton society unacceptable?”
“Not at all,” she said with a smile that quickly faded when her brow furrowed. “It is only that…” She chewed on the corner of her lips.
The confusion on her face fueled my own curiosity. “Please, Miss Elizabeth, say what you must.”
She scrunched her face in hesitation. “It is only that, since your arrival, you have given the impression you consider yourself above our company.” Her eyes searched me for a reaction. She wanted to understand me.
In light of our previous interactions, this was a pleasant change. She was showing a willingness to listen and, perhaps, alter her opinion of me. I would not waste this opportunity by taking offense; however, I would encourage her to speak plainly to avoid any further misunderstanding. “You accuse me of pride?”
“When a gentleman attends an assembly and refuses to dance or converse with anyone present? Yes, that is usually the conclusion drawn.”
I could not dispute her logic. I opened my mouth, an explanation to justify my behavior on my tongue. But it was an excuse, nothing more. I would not lessen my blame by casting it back on her.
Nevertheless, I could not let her comment go completely unchallenged. After all, Ihadasked her to dance with me at another social gathering—an offer she refused! “Is that why you refused my offer to dance at Lucas Lodge?”
A slow, spritely grin spread over her face. “Absolutely!” She winced.
