Chapter 5

5

W ithin ten minutes of taking the path veering off to the right, Elizabeth gazed in wonder at the visage in front of her.

Daffodils, crocus, and daisies dotted the verdant field, opening their blooms to the warm sun. Birds filled the air with song. Bees danced from one petal to the next, sipping nectar from each plant, and a babbling stream wound like a ribbon through the glen. The morning mist vanished, leaving behind the fragrance of healthy soil and the freshness of spring flowers.And no sign of Mr. Darcy.

Grinning from ear to ear, she removed her bonnet. Facing the sun, she silently praised the Creator as the rays warmed her with peace and contentment.

Elizabeth wished she had tucked a book in her pocket. Here, she might rest under an oak with newly opened leaves, enjoying the quiet sounds of nature as she read. The setting was perfect for poetry. Flinging her arms wide, she recited Wordsworth’s I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud aloud as she turned in a slow circle.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Applause stopped Elizabeth. With the sun behind her audience, Elizabeth could not see their faces. But from his posture, she recognized one immediately. Mr. Darcy! He found me again.

Elizabeth was torn. In spite of what she said to Charlotte, she was not displeased to see him. Since he rescued her, the danger to her heart was real, something she could not share with her friend. The truth was that she had been devastated to miss Mr. Bingley’s ball, the one time that she would have gladly said ‘yes’ had Mr. Darcy asked for a dance. Where she had been angry at him, she now saw his fine qualities.

What a hopeless case.

She focused her attention on the smiling man at Mr. Darcy’s side as they strode toward her.

“Miss Bennet, my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of the Regulars. Cousin, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire.”

“A pleasure, Miss Bennet.” The colonel bowed elegantly.

Elizabeth curtsied, using the occasion to gather her wits about her. Quickly donning her bonnet, she tied the ribbons so tightly they pinched the skin under her jaw.

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I was unaware I had company for my performance.” Hoping the men would think the heat in her face was the result of exposure to the sun, Elizabeth stilled her pounding heart by forcing herself to inhale slowly.

The colonel replied, “Do not be distressed. There is nothing so lovely as a pretty lady enjoying the delights of nature.”

Ah, a flirt. Unwittingly, Elizabeth compared him to the silent man standing next to him. The colonel was not as tall nor as handsome. Yet, his face and countenance were approachable and friendly.

“Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Darcy said, “You read Wordsworth?”

“You seem surprised,” she teased, her purpose being to unsettle him. “This begs the question, Mr. Darcy, do you not think that a lowly daffodil is worthy of being extolled in poetry, or should only roses earn the privilege?”

“I do believe a daffodil is deserving.” A slight grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. “I am onto your game, Miss Bennet, for it was my copy of Wordsworth you borrowed from Netherfield’s library. I know the poem well.”

She felt instant embarrassment. She hated it when her younger sisters ‘borrowed’ items of hers without asking permission. To do the same to someone else, even inadvertently, was shameful. “I was not aware that Wordsworth was your book, sir. Mr. Bingley offered free use of his library, so I assumed it was his. Had I known that it was not, I would have asked permission from you.”

Before Mr. Darcy could reply, the colonel’s long legs ate up the distance to a nearby tuft of daffodils. Instead of grabbing a random handful, he chose three lovely flowers, picking them low to the ground. Removing his handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped the bottom of the stems so the sap would not drip on her hands or gown before handing them to her.

She had no words. His spur-of-the-moment action surprised and enchanted her. Burying her nose in the petals, she enjoyed the sweet and almost spicy scent.

“I thank you, good sir.”

“My pleasure, Miss Bennet.” Extending his arm, he said, “There is a particularly excellent view of a small waterfall at the edge of the glen. I would be pleased to show you the way.”

Elizabeth could not help but see Mr. Darcy’s scowl. Does he not want me to walk with his cousin? Or is his jaded eyesight blinding him to the beauty of the day? She had no clue.

Wrapping her fingers around the bend of the colonel’s elbow, they happily meandered to the far end of the glen. Colonel Fitzwilliam was amiable, an excellent conversationalist who told outrageous stories to make her laugh. He was everything a gentleman should be.

Still, she wished it was Mr. Darcy’s arm she held.

Not for the first time, Darcy wanted to growl. How dare Richard! Picking her flowers and making her smile. A lover does those things, not a new acquaintance.

Hurrying to catch up with them, Darcy knew he must do something to draw Miss Elizabeth’s attention away from his amiable cousin. But what? For the first time in his life, he was the pursuer, not the prey. Wait, that was not the truth since he pursued her around the lake. Thank heavens that he did. How could he make her like him?

What were her interests other than her family, who were not in Kent? Coming to a standstill, he considered everything he knew about her, which was far less than he thought. She liked poetry, stimulating conversation, and spring flowers.She often dressed in shades of blue or yellow. Were they her favorite colors? He had no clue.

She would rather walk than ride. Why? Had she never learned? Or had she been injured by a horse so that she was afraid to try riding again? He loved the joy of galloping across a grassy field with the wind in his hair, controlling a powerful animal with a slight touch. How could she not love the same?

Miss Elizabeth held her eldest sister in the highest affection. Why? Was it the gentleness that Jane Bennet most often displayed? Was Miss Elizabeth overly protective of those she loved? Whatever the reason, Darcy tried to see in the eldest Bennet daughter what Miss Elizabeth saw. Was it the same thing Bingley saw?

Two facts motivated Darcy to keep Bingley from returning to Hertfordshire. First, in the few minutes he studied Jane Bennet, he had seen no outward preference for Bingley. It was easy to conclude that the lady was being forced by her avaricious mother to pretend an affection that was not there for the sole purpose of attaching herself to Darcy’s wealthy friend. Second, should Bingley marry Jane Bennet, there was no possible way Darcy could have stayed away from Miss Elizabeth. They would have met several times a year since Bingley was a social creature. All Darcy could think at the time was that she was a danger to him. And she did not want him.

Holding himself still, he pondered his situation. Her caring for Jane Bennet during her illness, the way she protected her sister from the Bingley sister’s intrusion, and the way she praised her sister to Bingley was evidence that the affection between the siblings was genuine. She loved Jane.

She did not love him.

If the eldest Miss Bennet was heartbroken over the loss of Bingley, Darcy was convinced that Elizabeth Bennet would tear him to shreds if she knew he was responsible.

He was a dunce and completely undeserving of her.

His chest felt empty. His limbs were weak. Why did he think he was an expert when it came to romance? He, the man who believed Miss Elizabeth flirted with him only to realize how little she valued him.

And how could he have thought himself to be elevated above her? To himself, he quoted oft-repeated words from his father, “You are the grandson of an earl, the son of a most deserving woman, and a Darcy by birth. In this, you are blessed.”

He was a fool standing in the middle of a field, choking on his prideful arrogance, while his cousin and best friend acted the gentleman to the worthiest woman on planet Earth.

An idiot he might be, but he was no quitter. Squaring his shoulders, he moved to intercept the couple. Pleasant memories of spending time with his young sister resulted in him bending to gather a handful of daisies. Pinching his thumbnail in one end of the stem, he wove a flower through the hole, one after another, until he was able to wind the chain into a circle the perfect size to fit around her wrist.

Was he silly? Whether he was or not no longer mattered.

“Pardon me.” He moved to stand beside her. Extending his hand with the flower bracelet resting against his palm, he said, “For you, my lady.”

She looked up at him, her free hand at her chest, her head tilted to the side. He could see the question in her eyes. “For me?”

“For you.” He bowed, wanting to kick himself for his past attitude. He was singularly responsible for her believing that he was not a gentleman. He was determined to fix his errors. “Deer use a narrow trail to a small wooden bridge over the stream that provides the best view of the falls Richard mentioned. We will need to walk one behind the other. Richard can take the lead since he knows the trail as well as I do. I will follow.”

She hesitated. “That is a lovely suggestion. I thank you, Mr. Darcy, for the daisy bracelet.”

Dropping her hand from Richard’s arm, she walked behind the colonel. Working together, he and his cousin kept low-hanging branches and brambles from getting in her way. When they finally reached the stream, the view of the small waterfall was blocked by a tree that must have fallen during the winter. The only clear view would be from the middle of the bridge. However, his aunt had not maintained the overpass. Moss was growing in patches on the surface. Some of the boards were rotted on the ends, while others looked sound enough.

Before he could sound a warning, Elizabeth hurried to the top of the bridge. “What a delightful setting for a waterfall. Thank you, gentlemen, for bringing me here.” Turning back to them with a smile, she said, “You were correct. This is everything lovely.” Resting her hands on the railing, the boards crumbled under slight pressure. “Oh, no!” When she stepped back, her foot slid on the damp moss.

“Miss Elizabeth, do not move! The bridge is unstable.”

She did not say anything, but the fear in her eyes told him everything.

Richard offered. “There looks to be some solid boards. From here we should be able to guide you where to place your feet.”

Darcy intended to consult with his cousin to plan the safest path for her to take back to them. When she shifted her weight back from the railing, the sound of breaking wood impelled him to act. With four giant strides, he was almost at her side.

Leaning forward, he did not see the moss in front of his other foot. By the time he was aware he was in trouble, his back foot slipped, throwing his weight forward. The plank did not hold.

Down he went, his right leg plunging through the hole toward the water below. Pain shot through his knee when it hit the sharp edges of the broken board. His fingers gripped the handrail, keeping him from dropping completely into the running water.

“Darcy!” Richard yelled.

She screamed. “No!”

The pain was excruciating. When she stepped closer to him, he begged her to stop.

“Mr. Darcy, neither of us can remain where we are.” She trembled.

As Darcy took a hard look at his situation, Richard directed her steps.

“Miss Bennet, we need to get you off the bridge before Darcy can be rescued. Pray, listen carefully, and move only where and when I tell you.”

Focusing on her rather than on his pain, Darcy’s pulse accelerated as she drew close. When her fingers rested on his shoulder for a brief touch, his whole body calmed.

Once she was on solid ground, Richard turned his attention to him.

“Darcy, can you pull yourself up and slide backward until you reach the stronger boards?”

The pain in his knee was beyond imaginable. Splinters pierced his buckskin trousers from the top of his Hessians to his thigh, as well as the palms of his hands where he gripped the railing. Even moving a hairsbreadth tormented him.

He was embarrassed from landing in a heap in front of her and miserable from his injuries. Yet, her sweet voice encouraged him.

Slowly and steadily, he followed his cousin’s direction. After what seemed like hours, he lay back on the bank of the stream with his head resting on her lap. Richard had pulled off his boot before taking his knife to Darcy’s trousers, cutting the torn buckskin up over his knee to ease his discomfort from swelling. Once his injuries were fully exposed, he tied Darcy’s cravat and his own tightly around the knee to stop the blood. Then, he ran to Rosings Park for help.

Her fingertips brushed over his temple. Darcy closed his eyes and willed his pain away until the only thing he could sense was her.