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Mr Darcy replied very coldly. “Who are you, sir? This lady is known to me, and I am here to offer her aid. She has injured her ankle.” He then very determinedly and pointedly turned his back on Mr Collins and said to me, “Are you able to stand? Let me help you.”

He supported me as I stood with my weight on one leg. Mr Collins began to sputter his objections, and Mr Darcy said in a voice loud enough to overcome his protest, “I am going to put you on my horse, Miss Bennet, and have you home in no time at all.”

I would have objected— violently objected—in other circumstances.

I am not comfortable on horseback, and above all things I hate being treated like a fragile trinket.

I have twisted my ankle before. It is a hazard of walking all one’s life, and I have limped home without incident.

But Mr Collins’s presence was so abhorrent at that mortifying moment, I welcomed Mr Darcy’s intervention and let him lift me up on the saddle.

Perched precariously and gripping the horn, my eyes showed my misgiving to my rescuer, but he would have none of my missishness.

“Hold tight and try to relax,” he said impatiently. “We have only a mile or so to go.”

Soon, we were plodding down the road. Meanwhile, Mr Collins buzzed around us like a gnat. He appeared shocked, appalled, dismayed, and certain some impropriety was occurring right under his nose.

“I demand to know who you are, sir,” he said.

“You demand, do you?” Mr Darcy said crisply. He looked perfectly dangerous to my eyes, and were I Mr Collins, I would have stepped back. Things were bad enough without bloodshed, I thought, tight-lipped with pain and unnerved by Mr Darcy’s very tall horse, and so, I intervened.

“Cousin, allow me to introduce Mr Darcy of Pemberley. Mr Collins, you understand, sir, is visiting. He is a rector in Kent.”

“Mr Darcy! But you must be nephew to my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. But how gracious of you to help my cousin Elizabeth! Such a naughty puss for running from me, but we shall have her set to rights in no time.”

I looked down at Mr Darcy who stared straight ahead with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. “Try to relax,” I murmured. “We have only a mile or so to go.”

Mr Darcy endeavoured not to smile at that and continued stoically down the road, but my cousin would not let us proceed in peace.

Having sniffed out a man of consequence, he now sang an entirely different tune from his initial outrage.

For an interminable space of time, he talked uninterruptedly.

He was overjoyed to be acquainted with Mr Darcy, delighted to share his multiple observations of Lady Catherine’s excellence, and completely disinterested in me, the companion of his future life.

After what felt to be an hour but was more rightly about four minutes, Mr Darcy halted our progress.

“Mr Collins, do run ahead to Longbourn, and tell Mrs Bennet that her daughter has sprained her ankle,” he said in a tone I am sure he would use with a footman. “Perhaps she will engage you to ride into Meryton for a doctor.”

“Of course! Of course!” my cousin cried. And without thinking, he lumbered away from us.

Mr Darcy kept his horse at a stand until Mr Collins was out of sight. “Will you marry that man?” he asked me, incredulous.

“I would sooner run away with the tinker.”

“Can your mother force you to it?”

“My father certainly can. If he invokes upon me the burden of duty, I am afraid I would have to sacrifice myself.”

“Surely, if you object, he will not do so.”

“My father is an indifferent parent. He often concedes to my mother because he dislikes her hysterics. But in this case, I believe he will be selfish.”

Mr Darcy looked up at me sharply. Was that distress I saw in his face? Surely not. Nevertheless, I gave in to the impulse to reassure him.

“He will not force me because he could not stand to have that simpleton underfoot. Mr Collins has been an amusing character to Papa, but his considerable appreciation for the diversion he has created is beginning to flag. No, I am sure he will allow my refusal to stand, but oh, how I dread such a proposal!”

Mr Darcy began to walk again at the slowest pace possible. Eventually, he introduced a different subject altogether. He seemed prone to speaking without preamble.

“Your episode today will prevent the pleasure of my dancing with you tomorrow, Miss Bennet.”

My ankle throbbed, else I would have laughed at him. Instead, I said, “You assume dancing with you is a pleasure?”

“I referred to my own pleasure at dancing with you , but I believe you choose to wilfully misunderstand me.

“Well then, how stupid of me to wilfully interrupt your pleasure!”

A sardonic half smile peeked out, and he replied very lightly, “Exactly so. We men of wealth and privilege are not inclined to be denied. I shall, if I may, engage you to sit out the first dance with me.”

“How delightful! We shall select a very good wall to hold up. You will stand there righteously indignant at the vulgarity of Hertfordshire society, I shall sit wretchedly beside you wishing I could be out there with the rabble, and together we shall watch the enjoyment of others while provoking one another.”

“I certainly hope so,” he said. And then in a tone that was very nearly tender he asked, “Are you in pain?”

I looked down at him, and he looked up at me. Something invisible passed between us that caused my heart to begin racing.

“Mr Darcy,” I said firmly, “you must not now change tack and become all consideration. You have demeaned yourself enough as it is today.”

“Precisely how have I demeaned myself?”

“You saw with your own eyes that I do not have silver buckles on my shoes,” I said in a light jest. “Country damsels are hardly worth your gallantry, sir.”

He chuckled delightfully. “No? Shall I instead scold you for walking at an indecorous pace? Should I upbraid you for ignoring the dictates of propriety? You should have been in the company of a maid, with an umbrella over your head, and a handkerchief gently held to your lips to keep you from inhaling the damp. And most certainly, you should not have been scampering about like a boy of fifteen.”

“I am sure you should lecture me, sir, but I shall hear plenty of that from my mother. Tell me, instead, of this animal I am sitting on. Is he as frightful a beast as I think him to be?”