The only one who stepped forward to help was an old woman who came to wrap the child in a tattered shawl. Darcy let her do it, because he did not want to cause offence, and because the child needed as much warmth as possible, though it was clear the old woman’s clothes were too worn to provide much protection against the elements. He gave the woman a few coins to buy a new shawl and more.
He handed Margaret over to Georgiana, and the girl clung to her tightly, sobbing, her small figure trembling from fear or cold or both. His sister indicated his discarded hat and coat, but he had no time for those now.
They needed the carriage immediately.
He looked around him for inspiration. He wished he had not dismissed the footman when he and Georgiana came to feed the waterfowl.
His gaze went to the horsemen. Perhaps the spectators could be forced to be useful, after all.
“You, sir,” he commanded, to the rider closest to them. “Could you ride back and have my coachman come closer? Tell him Mr. Darcy sent you.”
He described the carriage and explained its location.
“Certainly, sir,” said the young man, raising his top hat with a grin. “Happy to oblige.”
Darcy eyed the rest of the men uneasily. He thought he recognized one of them from his club, but it was a younger crowd, and there was no one there he really knew.
Satisfied that Georgiana was taking care of the child and the carriage would be brought, he took up his hat and wondered if there was any point in putting it on. He turned back to check on the progress of the mother. She was struggling to keep her head above the water, but she would soon reach the bank. He prepared to go to the edge and put out his hand to help her out of the river, but she suddenly stumbled on something and pitched forward.
Fear for her, illogical but pressing, spurred him on. He did not want to return to the icy, murky water, but his conscience insisted. He was honor-bound to get her out of the water as quickly as possible.
He threw down his hat and strode back out, ignoring the shivers as the cold water snapped at him, and resolutely pushed through the reeds to reach her.
He took her arm and helped her stand upright, then lifted her into his arms and carried her through the water. It was more difficult than he had thought. Her skirts were heavy with water, and he was trying his best to control the shivering that was settling into his bones. The shore seemed very far away, even if he knew it would only take a few more steps to reach it.
A harsh sound of protest sounded in his ear.
He stopped and turned to her inquiringly. “Did you say something, madam?”
“Only that you have mistaken the situation, sir. I am not in peril.”
A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. “Are you entirely certain?” he said. “I have it on good authority that there are eels in the water.”
He had never carried a woman in his arms, let alone a young lady who was cold, shivering, and eyeing him as if he was holding her against her will. It was ridiculous.
“Would you prefer me to drop you back into the water and leave you to slowly and painfully make your way, madam, while I stand on the bank watching? I am sure it will be a pleasant spectacle. You have already gathered a group of dedicated young gentlemen who are watching eagerly to see if you will survive or succumb to the water.”
Rather than growing flustered, the young lady raised one eyebrow. “I would rather you asked my permission before picking me up like a sack of potatoes.”
He chuckled at the image. Her feminine figure was very far from resembling a sack of potatoes. “I can assure you, you look nothing like a sack of potatoes.”
“Well, that is a relief!” she snickered.
“Though I am sorry to say, you weigh as much,” he added, prompted by the mischief in her laugh.
“You need to not be so insulting,” she replied, ruefully.
“I did not mean it as an insult to your person,” he replied, relishing this very feminine response. “I was referring to the weight of your clothes that are full of water.”
“Ah. Then I am very sorry for you. Though, I should remind you, I did not ask for your help.” She sighed. “Still, I will be glad to get out of the water faster than by myself. I suppose I should let you off the hook.”
He thought about it. Perhaps he should not have picked her up so unceremoniously. It was just that he was cold and wet and needed to be somewhere warm as soon as possible, and he was worried that exhaustion would overtake him.
“If I were a fish,” said Darcy, “then yes, you should let me off the hook. Since I am not, I should apologize and excuse my ungentlemanly behavior by pointing out that it was done with the best intentions.”
“In that case,” she said, a wide smile lighting up her face, “it would be churlish not to accept your apology.”
The smile took him by surprise. As did her dark eyes, shining with mirth. Even under these unpleasant circumstances, despite the piercing cold, she showed a resilience that charmed him. Her laughter rose above her discomfort. He found himself admiring her spirit, the way she handled adversity with humor and grace, and for a fleeting moment, he wished the circumstances were different.
