Page 20 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
“Good morning to you, too, Mr. Darcy,” I said airily, choosing to ignore his comments and greet him instead.
He grinned at me as he dismounted, then stepped forward and took my hand in his.
With a mock-serious expression, he said, “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. Might I have the honour of escorting you to Netherfield—and offering a modest shield against Miss Bingley’s sharp tongue?
Not that you require protection, dear lady,” he added with a courtly bow and a light kiss to my gloved hand, “but if I might spare you even a little vexation, it would be my pleasure.”
My cheeks grew warm at his unexpected gallantry.
We both wore gloves, of course, yet his touch sent a thrill through me unlike anything I had felt before.
Combined with the look in his eyes—gentle, yet intent—it set my foolish heart racing and butterflies rioting in my stomach, and for one breathless moment, I feared I might truly swoon.
He noticed my hesitation. “Are you well, Elizabeth?” he asked, sounding nearly as breathless as I felt .
“Of course,” I replied with a shaking voice. “It is merely the heat.” As soon as the words passed my lips, I knew how foolish they were. Yesterday’s rain had brought a chill with it, and even now, I was cool in my warmest pelisse.
“Yes, the heat,” he replied, his gaze fixed on my face.
With a great struggle, I threw off the feelings that threatened to overwhelm me. “I am well,” I said again, attempting to reassure both of us. “I appreciate the offer of escort, but will that not only result in your being muddy and untidy upon our arrival?”
“My boots offer better protection against the mud,” he replied, shaking his head as he spoke.
“I would tell my sister that I can walk faster than she, but I am uncertain if that is true of you. Either way, we will arrive at Netherfield sooner if we depart without arguing over this too much longer. Mithras is a good horse, not easily spooked, and you need only to stay seated. I will lead him.”
“Very well,” I agreed, looking around for a rock or a log I could use to mount.
Instead, Mr. Darcy stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Allow me,” he murmured, his voice low.
Before I could form a proper reply, I felt his hands at my waist—firm yet gentle—as he lifted me effortlessly into the saddle. My breath caught, and I was certain my cheeks were aflame though I struggled to appear unaffected.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the faintest flush at the tips of his ears, and the sight stirred a smile I quickly hid, tucking it away like a secret.
The saddle was clearly not designed for riding side-saddle, and the position felt unfamiliar and awkward.
Yet Mr. Darcy remained at my side, steadying me as I adjusted my seat.
His hands briefly brushed mine as he helped arrange my skirts, his touch sending a flutter through me that I tried in vain to suppress .
Even so, we quickly fell into the easy rhythm of conversation that so often accompanied our time together, and before long, Netherfield came into view.
Without a word, Mr. Darcy stepped forward to help me down from his horse before we were near enough to be spotted by its occupants.
His hands were steady as he guided me, and once again, the nearness of him sent warmth rushing to my cheeks.
For a moment, he did not step away. His hands lingered at my waist, and his gaze held mine—intense and searching.
In that brief silence, I felt as though a thousand unspoken promises passed between us.
Then, almost reluctantly, he let me go and stepped back, putting several paces between us as his expression closed off once more.
“I will take Mithras to the stables and allow you to walk the rest of the way by yourself,” he said.
“They should be in the breakfast room at this hour, and someone should be able to quickly take you to your sister. If you need anything, one of my footmen is just outside your sister’s room.
My room is in the same wing but further down the passageway.
I will stop by to check to see if anything is needed once I have had time to change my attire. ”
I nodded and watched as he strode away, his figure growing smaller with each step. Remembering the purpose of my visit, I gave myself a mental shake. It could serve no good purpose to think too much of a gentleman whose heart was still unknown to me.
No matter what I felt, I reminded myself, it was not for me to act. If he cared for me—truly cared—then he must be the one to say so. And if he never did, I would have my answer, however disappointing it might be. Until then, all I could do was wait.
Glancing down at my dress, I wished I had worn something finer. After all, I had not expected Mr. Darcy to meet me and escort me to Netherfield on the back of his horse. Still, it was clean and free of mud, which I counted a small blessing as the housekeeper showed me into the house.
I had known Mrs. Nicholls for years—she was the sister of our cook, Mrs. Baker—and the two had often shared a cup of tea at Longbourn when time permitted.
“Miss Bennet is doing well enough,” Mrs. Nicholls confided as she led me through the front hall. “Mr. Darcy, of all people, has taken it upon himself to do what the mistress ought. He’s ensured your sister’s comfort near as tenderly as if she were his own.”
She glanced at me meaningfully at these words, and I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks. I was unable to meet her eyes, and by the time we reached the breakfast room, I was thoroughly flustered as Mrs. Nicholls continued to praise Mr. Darcy’s kindness.
As I stood at the door to the breakfast parlour, I did my best to compose myself before I entered. A footman opened the door, and I stepped into the room.
No one spoke as I entered, so I took the initiative after waiting a moment. “Good morning,” I said, determined to sound composed. “I have come to enquire after Jane’s health.”
Mr. Bingley was the first to recover from his surprise. “Good morning,” he replied warmly, stammering slightly as he glanced at his sisters. “Yes—the apothecary has been sent for. I believe he should arrive soon.”
“She is not feeling well enough to leave her room,” Miss Bingley added coolly. “The maid reports she slept poorly and remained feverish throughout the night. I have not yet seen her myself, but I intended to visit her after breakfast.”
Then, with a pointed glance towards Mrs. Nicholls, she continued, “Mrs. Nicholls, please show our… guest to Miss Bennet’s room.” The word “ guest ” was delivered with such disdain I very nearly laughed .
“I shall come shortly,” she added with a forced smile. “I had not expected callers quite so early in the morning.”
Biting back the laughter that rose in my throat, I followed Mrs. Nicholls into the corridor. Once we were out of sight, I allowed myself a quiet chuckle. Early , indeed. Eleven o’clock might be unseemly in town, but in the country, it was practically midday.