Then hands gripped her arms, helping her to her feet with urgent care.
"Are you hurt? Miss Elizabeth, are you injured?"
The voice was breathless, rough with alarm.
She looked up.
Mr. Darcy stood before her, his expression stark with concern. Soot streaked his face and shirt. His eyes searched hers with unmistakable anxiety.
"I—no. No, I am not hurt." Her voice came out shaken but steady.
He released her arms immediately, stepping back with visible effort to compose himself. "Forgive me. I did not mean—that is, there was no time—"
"You pushed me out of the way," Elizabeth said, her mind still struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. "You might have been struck yourself."
"Better that than—" He stopped abruptly, seeming to realize the impropriety of finishing that sentence.
Around them, the crowd surged forward, exclaiming over the fallen debris. Mrs. Gardiner appeared at Elizabeth's side, pale and shaken, reaching for her with trembling hands.
"Lizzy! Thank God you are safe. I thought you would move the moment the roof began to fall. If I had known you would not, I would have dragged you away myself." She pressed a hand toher temple. "This was precisely why I said we should not move too close."
"I am fine, Aunt." Elizabeth managed to say.
Mrs. Gardiner turned toward Darcy, clearly uncertain whom she was addressing. "Sir, I cannot thank you enough—"
Elizabeth cleared her throat, though it came out rougher than intended from the smoke. "Aunt, may I present Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Mr. Darcy, my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner of Gracechurch Street, London."
Darcy bowed properly. "Mrs. Gardiner. I am glad I was near enough to be of service."
Mrs. Gardiner curtsied, her expression shifting to recognition. "Mr. Darcy. I believe my niece has mentioned you."
Elizabeth felt heat rise to her cheeks despite the chill of shock still settling over her. What precisely had she said about Mr. Darcy? She could not recall—only that it had been nothing too kind.
"I hope favourably," Darcy said quietly, though his attention remained primarily on Elizabeth, as if assuring himself she was truly unharmed.
The silence stretched a beat too long.
"You saved my niece's life, sir," Mrs. Gardiner said firmly. "That speaks more favourably than any words could."
Another voice cut through the moment—shocked, delighted, breaking the tension entirely.
"Miss Elizabeth? Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"
Elizabeth turned to find Mr. Bingley approaching, his face alight with astonishment and pleasure.
"Mr. Bingley," she managed, attempting a curtsy despite her shaken state.
"I can scarcely believe it! What brings you to Bath? I had no notion—that is, I never imagined—" He looked between her and Mrs. Gardiner with evident confusion and delight.
"We arrived only yesterday," Elizabeth said. "My sister Jane and I are visiting with our aunt and uncle for the summer."
At the mention of Jane's name, Bingley's expression transformed. "Miss Bennet is here? In Bath?"
"She remained at the house this morning. She was—tired from our journey."
"Of course, of course." Bingley seemed hardly able to contain himself. "And you are staying—that is, where might I—if I may be so bold—"
"We have taken a house in Camden Place," Mrs. Gardiner supplied, clearly reading the young man's eager confusion. "Number fourteen."
