“A misstep that has injured you,” he returned. “You must not disregard it. You could worsen the injury.”
She drew a breath, as though to steady herself, and made a second attempt, more cautiously this time, but the result was the same. The pain was severe enough that Elizabeth knew she risked damaging the joint further if she continued.
“I believe you are right,” Elizabeth said, keeping her voice level with an effort. “I cannot ignore the injury.”
He did not answer, but his attention had already shifted from inquiry to action.
“You cannot remain here,” he said. “Nor can you walk back.”
“I shall manage it,” she said, though without much conviction. “It is not so far.”
“It is too far to attempt in your present condition.”
There was no harshness in his tone, but there was a steadiness which made it impossible to contradict him. “I suppose you are right,” Elizabeth admitted.
Mr Darcy stepped closer. Lightly, he touched her arm. “You must allow me to assist you,” he said steadily. “A small liberty will be necessary to see you home.”
Elizabeth looked at him in confusion. “I do not quite understand your meaning.”
He swallowed. “If you will allow me, I shall carry you.”
“Carry me?” Elizabeth said faintly in astonishment. He was right, it was likely the best solution, but she could not ask a gentleman to simply pick her up and —
“Excuse me, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said. He stepped closer and gently swung her up into his arms, avoiding her injured ankle. The action was soimmediate, so entirely free from deliberation, that she had no time to prepare for it. One moment she had been standing, uncertain but composed; the next, she was no longer on the ground at all.
Her hand found his shoulder by instinct rather than intention. “I assure you, Mr Darcy, this is not at all necessary…”
“It is,” he said. There was nothing in his manner to suggest that he would be persuaded otherwise.
Elizabeth did not speak again. She was aware of every particular of the situation, all her senses alive to each impression. The steadiness with which he held her, the ease with which he moved, the nearness of him, which no ordinary circumstance could have produced, all impressed themselves on her at once.
It was not the pain in her ankle that made her silent, or even embarrassment at her situation. It was something much more difficult to name.
As they were significantly closer to Rosings than to the parsonage, Mr Darcy continued in that direction. He carried her without apparent effort, his pace measured, his attention divided between the path and the burden he bore, though not in a way that suggested uncertainty. The ground, uneven as it was, did not appear to trouble him.
Elizabeth searched for something to say andfound nothing. She was not accustomed to being carried, least of all by him.
“I fear,” she said at last, though more quietly than she intended, “that I have occasioned you a great deal of inconvenience.”
“You have occasioned me none,” he replied steadily.
“I must still regret it.”
“I do not regret it.”
The answer, though simply given, had the effect of silencing her again. She did not attempt to interpret it. It was better, she thought, not to do so. Yet she could not prevent herself from feeling that the situation, which ought to have been merely awkward, was something else entirely.
The approach to Rosings was made more quickly than Elizabeth would have thought possible, though she was not in a condition to measure the distance with any precision. When the house came into view, rose before them with its usual air of formality, but she had little attention to spare for it. The pain in her ankle and her awareness of being in Mr Darcy’s arms occupied all her mind.
Observing their approach, a servant hastened forward, his expression shifting at once from expectation to surprise.
“Mr Darcy, sir.”
“There has been a minor accident,” Mr Darcy said without pausing. “Miss Bennet has turned her ankle. We require assistance.”
The servant bowed and moved aside at once, opening the door without further inquiry.
Within, the effect of their entrance was immediate. Miss Darcy, who had been seated near the window, rose at once, her composure giving way to visible concern as she saw Elizabeth.
