Page 117 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

Darcy stepped aside and Turney opened the gate.

“I’ll get ‘im some feed now.”

“And water?” Darcy asked.

“There’s a stream runnin’ through a stone rill in the shed floor, sir.”

“I see.”

Turney jogged across the paddock and took the bucket from Miss Elizabeth. They exchanged words, and she left him to run across the paddock toward the gate. He could see her grinning at him, but her good humor did not improve his own.

“Everything is fine, Mr. Darcy,” she said as soon as she was close enough. “Clover was just overheated. It has been exceedingly hot this week.”

Darcy opened the gate for her to pass through, and then shut and latched it after her. He turned to face her. “I think you must have been mad to enter the bull paddock.”

Lizzy frowned at the fury she heard in Mr. Darcy’s voice. It startled her so much she could not immediately respond.

“The bull could have trampled you to death,” he said, glaring down at her.

“Clover?” she asked, incredulous.

“Who else?” he snapped. “He must weigh a ton, if not more.”

“More, I would say,” she replied, her brows drawing together. “I understand you do not know this, Mr. Darcy, but I have been friends with Clover since his birth. He would not hurt me.”

Mr. Darcy’s jaw clenched. “You cannot be certain of that. Even a favored pet will lash out when he is injured.”

“Pray, allow me to know more about injured animal behavior than you, sir,” Lizzy said with heat creeping into her words.

“His size!”

“Granted, Clover’s size increases the danger,” she acknowledged, her ire rising with every word out of Mr. Darcy’s mouth. “I am not a fool. You have no right to treat me like one.”

“Then you should not act like one,” he snarled.

Lizzy’s gasp rocked her on her feet. “How dare you, sir, to insult me in this manner?”

“You could have been killed!” he shouted.

“I was in no real danger!” she shouted back. “Clover would not have hurt me. He loves me!”

“A bull is no pet,” he argued in a quieter, but no less intense voice. “There are people who would be devastated if you were injured or killed. People who love you. You might think of them the next time you place yourself in danger.” After that biting remark, he turned on his heel and stalked away, anger in every line of his body.

“Well,” she said pithily.

Chapter Nineteen

Lizzy stomped through the paddock gate. Inwardly, and outwardly, she seethed. Who does he think he is to shout at me? No one. Barely a friend, in truth. We have not known each other long enough for him to berate me for careless behavior. Her boots squelched through the damp spots in the path past the sheep and goat paddock. She spied Gerty standing on the wall again and jabbed a finger at her.

“Back inside, if you please, Gerty,” she ordered in a tight voice.

The goat bleated and jumped down on the paddock side of the wall.

Lizzy paused at the bird-of-prey enclosure. She picked up a box, placed it next to the fence, climbed on top of it, and began to roll back the roof. It was composed of wire mesh stapled to a slat frame. The more she unrolled it, the harder it became to roll. Even so, she climbed down, moved the box, and climbed back up again to continue rolling the roof. At one point a groom offered to help, but she said she could do it herself. When half the roof had been rolled away, she stopped, and tied it down so it could not roll again. The birds huddled in the far corner, wary of the activity above them. By this time, the groom, a gardener, and several stable lads had gathered nearby to watch her.

“Will they fly off, now, miss?” one of the lads asked.

Lizzy came down off the box and turned to face the questioner. Her stomach still clenched and unclenched with anger, but she gained control of herself and calmly said, “They will. But not necessarily right away. The owls, Daryl and Spunky, will likely wait until dark. I expect Oliver will fly off by this afternoon.”