Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C aroline stormed through the double front doors of the house, determined to return to the picnic—a shoddy affair, as she had predicted; Miss Darcy really ought to have sought her advice—as quickly as she was able before Eliza could gain the upper hand. Without anyone there to intervene, there was no telling what arts the chit might descend to in order to gain Mr Darcy for herself. Already today, she had managed to thwart and upstage her rival while somehow maintaining a veneer of guileless innocence, but Caroline was onto her game.

As she strode towards the gathered party on the lawn, Caroline smoothed down her skirt—a primrose silk, which was light and delicate, perfectly suited to dining al fresco in the summer—and searched the small crowd for Mr Darcy with probing eyes. Where has he gone?

Upon reaching the rug where her sister—who had abandoned her to the ministrations of her lady's maid after scolding her for making a scene, as if it were not that pert Eliza's fault—sat conversing with Miss Darcy and Mrs Gardiner, Caroline demanded, "Where has Mr Darcy got to?"

Mrs Gardiner, who had been droning on about some dull aspect of her insignificant Cheapside abode, stuttered to an abrupt stop. While the other ladies frowned, she coolly replied, "He and Elizabeth are walking around the lake."

Was it Caroline's imagination, or did Mrs Gardiner sound unbecomingly smug? She pinched her lips against a snide reply, nodded, and walked away in pursuit of her quarry.

Closer to the shore, the terrain became more uneven with roots and scattered debris, which her slippers did little to protect her from. She ought to have worn boots, she supposed, but none of the pairs she had brought with her matched this particular gown. Had she realised she would be required to traipse after that hoydenish Eliza into the wilderness, she might have risked the fashion faux pas, but her own genteel expectations had foiled her. She stepped gingerly along the trail, swatting branches out of her way as she moved deeper into the grove.

There! Up ahead through the curtain of foliage she spotted two figures on the path walking close to one another. Although she saw them in shadow and only from behind, their identities were apparent; Mr Darcy and Eliza were engaged in some quiet conversation she could not quite overhear.

Caroline gasped with outrage as Eliza feigned a stumble and began falling forwards. Mr Darcy reached out to catch her, and the pair of them ended up in an intimate clutch. "That scheming strumpet!" Disregarding the pain in her feet, she rushed to intercede before Mr Darcy fell prey to Eliza's transparent wiles.

A harsh wind kicked up, sending the dangling fronds surrounding her into a hissing frenzy. The thin branches whipped at her, stinging her face, neck, and hands as if she were a naughty child, driving her back from whence she came. She cried out at the onslaught but was muffled by a mouthful of leaves, which she immediately spat out in a most unladylike fashion.

Somehow returned to where she had begun, Caroline stared uncomprehendingly at the wall of branches separating her from Mr Darcy and Eliza. If she were not such a rational creature, she might have believed them capable of intentionally hampering her pursuit, but that was utter nonsense. Squaring her shoulders, she swept them aside and marched back into the grove.

The wind rose again the instant she breached the veil, and she found herself accosted by grasping branches and pointed leaves, which grazed her exposed skin like razor blades. She held up her arms to protect her face and pushed her way blindly through the onslaught.

She had not progressed much farther when she felt something wrap about her ankle and give a wrenching tug, pulling her foot out from under her. She screamed as she descended and collided with the packed dirt of the trail, then fell abruptly silent as the breath was knocked from her body.

Dazed, she made no effort to rise and lay completely still even as light, padding footsteps approached and a cold wetness grazed her cheek. Stupid dog. To this further indignity, she could only elicit a quiet moan of dismay.

As she lay prostrate on the filthy ground with the curious beast snuffling at her hair, she felt another jerk upon her leg and began rolling down the slope that separated dry land from the lake. Already stunned by her ignominious spill, she could do nothing as she tumbled into the water.

A scream rent the air, startling Elizabeth from the luring pull of Mr Darcy's heady gaze. She felt him jerk away likewise, and they turned in tandem to the path behind them. Freddy, ears pointed and alert, scampered off to investigate as the gentleman wondered aloud, "What was that?"

Elizabeth squinted through the obscuring veil of leaves and spotted a prone figure on the ground, which Freddy paused to sniff at. "I think someone is injured!"

As they disentangled themselves with the common intent of rendering aid, the figure began rolling down the incline towards the lake and landed in the water with a resounding splash. They both rushed forwards, Mr Darcy in the lead while Elizabeth struggled with her skirts, and found Miss Bingley levying herself up out of the muck while Freddy barked at her from the bank.

"The trees—so much wind— my gown !"

Unlike the one Miss Bingley had soiled earlier, Elizabeth feared that this particular frock had no chance of being rescued. Being drenched might have been put to rights, but the lady's plunge had stirred up a dark, putrid sludge from the lakebed, the stains from which would not be easily removed or disguised by clever embroidery. The feathers in her headdress drooped in front of her eyes, and she struggled to flick them away, but they only tangled around her fingers. In wrenching them free, the lady sent the ornament flying off farther into the water, where it sank beneath the surface and was lost to sight. Upon realising this, Miss Bingley clenched her fists, scrunched up her face, and screeched loudly enough to send the nearby birds fleeing from their roosts.

Elizabeth looked on with her hands cupped over her face. She was ashamed of herself, really, for it was not shock that she concealed but barely restrained mirth. Jane would be appalled!

Mr Darcy, to his credit, jumped directly into the lake and sloshed to Miss Bingley's rescue. Over his dog's continued barking, he called, "Hush, Freddy. Miss Bingley, are you injured?"

In spite of her better angels, a snort escaped Elizabeth when Miss Bingley, upon spying Mr Darcy's approach, suddenly wilted and began flailing about as though drowning. As she was seated upright in no more than a foot or so of water, Elizabeth was reasonably assured that the lady was in no particular danger, despite her overwrought performance. When Miss Bingley cried out a plaintive, "Oh, Mr Darcy, do save me!" Elizabeth was forced to turn away lest she give way to unseemly laughter.

Mr Darcy reached out to the squalling damsel, a study of calm in the face of her histrionics. Elizabeth was mightily impressed that he managed to contain his exasperation to the faintest of eye rolls, a mere flick of his gaze to the heavens for strength. "All will be well. Come, take my hand."

"Oh dear, I am not certain my legs will support me, sir!"

"Here, you may lean on me."

"It might be best if you were to carry me back to shore…"

A smirk in Elizabeth's direction only redoubled her amusement. Miss Bingley clearly thought herself quite clever in her machinations, even as Mr Darcy flinched back a step. The next moment he sighed, set his shoulders, and bent down. At least he will have me as a witness to his gentlemanly intentions.

Beside her on the bank, Freddy whined and pranced restlessly. Elizabeth reached out a hand to soothe the Great Dane, but she was too late; Freddy slipped out from beneath her fingers and launched herself into the water after her master. Elizabeth winced at the pitch of Miss Bingley's resultant screech as the pair were both showered from the dog's clumsy advance.

"Freddy, no! No—back, back I say!" While attempting to keep Freddy at bay with one hand, Mr Darcy reached down to help Miss Bingley to her feet with the other. At last, the panicked lady took it and allowed him to pull her upright and out of Freddy's range. " Down , girl!"

Miss Bingley clutched at him, but Mr Darcy remained preoccupied with his dog, who was now jumping at him as if enticing him to play. "Thank goodness you were here, Mr Darcy! I am so grateful for your quick thinking."

Mr Darcy seemed not to have heard her. "Freddy, sit ." The dog splashed down on her haunches but wriggled about as if ready to jump up again in an instant.

Miss Bingley's tone became more urgent as her ire visibly rose. "Mr Darcy?"

Again, he overlooked her in favour of redirecting Freddy. "Good dog. Go to Miss Bennet." Mr Darcy pointed at Elizabeth where she stood on the bank, and the dog tipped her head in that direction.

Elizabeth swallowed her mirth and called to the Great Dane. "Here, Freddy. Here, girl."

Freddy looked between Mr Darcy and Elizabeth as if struggling to decide between them.

" Mr Darcy ."

"A moment, Miss Bingley—Freddy, go to Miss Bennet."

A fleeting expression of annoyance passed over Miss Bingley's face before she pressed the back of a hand to her forehead and exclaimed, "Oh dear, I feel the faintness coming upon me!"

A moment later, she tottered and made as if to collapse into a startled Mr Darcy's arms, but Freddy at last made her choice and determined that Miss Bingley would receive the attention she so craved. The dog lurched forwards and injected herself between the lady and her master, rearing up onto her hind legs to plant her paws upon Miss Bingley's shoulders. In doing so, Freddy redirected her fall and sent the lady tumbling backwards into the water once more. She came up sputtering and wailing anew.

Mr Darcy pulled Freddy back by her collar, begging Miss Bingley's pardon even as he scolded his dog. "Miss Bingley, I do apologise—Freddy, sit ."

Elizabeth's hands again flew up to cover her mouth, acting only just in time to prevent peals of laughter from spilling out of her. In the midst of dragging Freddy away from the hapless Miss Bingley, Mr Darcy shot her a droll look, which suggested he understood her struggles, and she nearly came undone regardless.

Fortunately, distraction in the form of the rest of their party arrived just at that moment and prevented an unfeeling display on her part.

"Good God, what happened here?" cried Mr Bingley. He and Mr Gardiner had reached the scene first, followed at a somewhat more sedate pace by Mr Hurst, with the ladies trailing along behind. The former pair launched immediately into the water to help Mr Darcy, while Mr Hurst shouted advice from the shore. His wife stood anxiously by his side, wringing her hands and observing the gentlemen struggling to reach her sister as Mr Darcy held Freddy at bay.

The three other ladies begged Elizabeth to explain, which she mastered herself enough to do after several deep breaths. "It seems that Miss Bingley lost her footing and suffered a mishap," she offered succinctly as the lady was again lifted out of the water. Her brother assisted her to dry land and handed her off to the waiting Mrs Hurst, though she continued to dart calculating glances at Mr Darcy. He, preoccupied with dragging Freddy from the lake, seemed not to notice.

Miss Darcy's lips quivered as she said, "Poor Miss Bingley."