The Trouble With Horses: A Pride & Prejudice Novella Variation (3 page)

"Pardon me, but you are?"

With a look of great scorn, the woman identified herself as Caroline Bingley, sister to Charles and dearest friend to the Darcy family. Elizabeth shrugged and reached for the cloths Hill had soaked in the cold water. She turned her back to the woman and carefully pressed them to Mr. Darcy's forehead and neck area that she could reach.

"I told you to stop! How dare you sit beside Mr. Darcy in his sickbed and touch his person!" Caroline shrieked and actually grabbed Elizabeth's arm. Hill took a step forward in defense of her mistress, only for Elizabeth to take care of the situation herself.

"Miss Bingley, touch MY person one more time and they will be removing those feathers from your nose!" Elizabeth pulled her arm free causing Miss Bingley to stumble backwards a few steps.

"You harlot! I know your type, trying to claim Mr. Darcy for your own. Well, we'll just see about this!" Caroline hissed and stormed out of the room.

Elizabeth lifted the first round of cloths and handed them back to Hill before accepting another round. She carefully placed the cloths on his skin and watched as his restlessness seemed to slow. She could hear raised voices down below and did not need anyone to announce that Miss Bingley must have ridden home from the assembly with her own family.

Heavy footsteps Elizabeth recognized as her father's could be heard coming up the stairs, but Elizabeth continued to nurse Mr. Darcy. With her back to the door, she could sense when her father was standing there and kept up her charade of pretending ignorance.

He cleared his throat, yet still Elizabeth refused to tear her eyes from the face of Mr. Darcy.

"Elizabeth. I believe it is time for you to retire for the evening." Her father used a tone she rarely heard, the one that made it clear he would brook no disagreement.

"But father, he is so feverish! Please." Elizabeth waited a moment before looking at her father with all of her fears for this man in her eyes. Her father's features softened and she thought at first she had triumphed. Instead, he pointed at Hill.

"Others can apply cold compresses. Come, you need your rest and Mr. Darcy will remain here tonight. If you are up to it, perhaps tomorrow his fever will have broken and you can read to him." Mr. Bennet held out his hand to his daughter as she took it and rose from the bed. He embraced her hand with both of his own in affection and leaned forward to kiss the back of her head as she quit the room to retire.

Once she was alone in the bedroom she shared with Jane, who was not sent to bed like a misbehaving youth, she slipped into her nightgown with one thought on her mind. Damn that Caroline Bingley!

~~~
♥~~~

CHAPTER 2

The next morning Elizabeth took extra care with her toilette and abandoned her usual morning walk. Without waiting for permission, she snuck into the guest room across the hall as the dawn was still piercing through the curtains.

Mr. Darcy slumbered heavily, but Elizabeth noticed his skin was cool to her touch. Sitting in the chair next to his bed, she leaned her elbows on the mattress and fervently prayed for his continued recovery and thanked God for delivering him through the night. After saying her amen, she looked around the room for something to do and noticed his clothing was discarded in the far corner.

She gathered up the laundry and slipped back out the door and delivered the clothing to the larger laundry pile in the home's back room. The cook winked at Lizzie as she went out the familiar door, then dropped her mouth in shock as the second eldest Bennet daughter came right back into the house.

"Morning Mrs. Hobbs." Elizabeth gave the older woman a keen smile and skipped her habitual swipe of a biscuit from the fresh batch in the morning's pastry basket. Retreating from the kitchen, she opened the door to her father's study and experienced a surprise herself as her father sat very calmly behind his desk.

"And how is Mr. Darcy this morning?"

Elizabeth sputtered a few words and then looked behind her.

"No point in lying, Elizabeth, your dainty little feet are not above stressing the floorboards." Mr. Bennet raised his eyes above him to emphasize his statement.

"That is to say, I collected Mr. Darcy's laundry so that it may be cleaned should he happen to awaken today."

"Mmmm, is that so? You didn't also check on his condition?"

Elizabeth blushed and stepped further into her father's study. "I only checked his temperature father and his skin is quite cool. His fever must have broken sometime last night." Elizabeth looked at the shelves around her for a suitable candidate for her next project. While Mr. Darcy slept, she intended to read to him in hopes it would help rouse him more quickly.

"Lizzie, you're playing a very dangerous game. We know nothing about this man besides his fine clothes and failure to keep his seat."

Dragging her toe across the floor, Elizabeth made absent-minded circles with her right foot. "I know, Papa, but I feel--" Elizabeth drew a blank for a moment. What did she feel for him and could she confess that to her father? It wasn't love, she wasn't violently passionate about the man, but still, something strong brewed in her heart and she struggled for the words. Her father waited for her to finish her sentence with a slack expression. Finally, she found the words that fit as well as any.

"I feel responsible for him."

Mr. Bennet sighed and leaned back. He had done his best to quiet that harpy, Miss Bingley, but he sensed it might already be too late to save his favorite daughter from the gossip and rumors that would surely spread. Reminding himself to not borrow trouble, Mr. Bennet stood up from his chair and selected a book from the shelves. With a grimace and small prayer all would turn out he handed a book to Elizabeth, who frowned when she read the title.

"Sir, this will give him nightmares of war!" Elizabeth tried to return
The Vision of Don Roderick
to her father. But, Mr. Bennet held his hand up.

"Better nightmares of war than visions of romance," he said, expecting to see his daughter's usual lively spirit laugh at his tease.

Shrugging her shoulders, Elizabeth weighed the likelihood that the longer she tried to argue her father he might bar her from reading to Mr. Darcy altogether. Exasperated, she left the study without the courtesy of closing his door which allowed her father to call after her.

"Keep the guest room door open!"

Shocked her father would suggest such a thing, Elizabeth giggled as she climbed back up the stairs knowing she had indeed rationalized a reason to close the door—to avoid disturbing the rest of her family as they were still asleep, of course!

Resuming her seat, Elizabeth sat upright and began in a clear voice:

Lives there a strain, whose sounds of mounting fire
May rise distinguished o'er the din of war;
Or died it with yon Master of the Lyre
Who sung beleaguered Ilion's evil star?
Such, WELLINGTON, might reach thee from afar,

Out of her peripheral view, Elizabeth spied Mr. Darcy's injured arm moving. She placed her book down and moved over to the fresh basin of water on the bedside table. Dampening a cloth, she carried it over to place it gently on the swollen hand, happy to see diminished redness since last evening. Instinctively, she reached out to touch his bare forearm marveling at the dark hair that lay all in one direction. A spark of thrilling emotion traveled up her own arm at the connection, causing her to shiver. How could simply touching someone produce such feeling?

Elizabeth shook her head and returned the compress to the basin. Wiping her hand dry on her skirt, she resumed her reading.

Wafting its descant wide o'er Ocean's range;
Nor shouts, nor clashing arms, its mood could mar,
All, as it swelled 'twixt each loud trumpet-change,
That clangs to Britain victory, to Portugal revenge!

Her voice naturally swelled with indignation and without meaning to, she realized she was very nearly shouting. Immediately she quieted and turned her head towards the door, listening for sounds that she had awoken her sisters but none came. Returning her gaze to the man before her, Elizabeth remembered her father's words and what he did not come out and say. She knew the way the world worked and very easily she might be forced to marry the man before her.

With new eyes she looked at Mr. Darcy's dark brown hair and admired the small curls around the edge of his hairline. His jaw was of a steady sort, and he looked quite dashing with a day's worth of stubble beginning to grow in. His chest rose and fell with each breath and Elizabeth found herself matching his meter. As her eyes traveled further down she couldn't see his form beneath the sheet but blushed as she remembered how he had looked in his breeches shortly after his fall. Yes, if she was forced to marry this man, he certainly wouldn't be a chore to admire!

As Elizabeth squirmed in her seat and resolved to return to her reading, she took one last look at his face. With a quick flutter, two deep chasms of chestnut were staring back at her. For a moment Elizabeth's own blue eyes locked with his and they each took a synchronized breath.

"You are awake, Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth dropped her book and absent-mindedly reached out to squeeze his uninjured hand. Instead, he recoiled and snatched fistfuls of the sheets around him to pull them closer.

"Desist madam or I shall not be responsible for my actions. Who the blazes are you to be in my room?" Darcy looked around in confusion, not recognizing any of the furnishings or the strange woman
before him.

"I'm Elizabeth Bennet. You said my name, sir, in your sleep. You fell off your horse and you are recovering in my father's house in Hertfordshire."

Darcy took a second stock of the room and seeing it was very simple indeed, plus the state of the dress of this Miss Bennet, found himself unimpressed. His head ached most severely and he needed to get out of here lest he become more vulnerable to compromise.

"For heaven's sake woman, fetch your father. And where are my clothes?" His eyes widened as he worried that perhaps she had taken them off herself judging by her blush. "Are you responsible for my state?" Darcy frantically looked towards the door for another person to aid him, finding none.

Mortified and hurt that she had allowed herself to fall for the fantasy of a fairy tale, for the real Mr. Darcy was nothing short of a brute, Elizabeth stood up and left him without a word. Instead of going down to face her father, she headed towards her own room and noticed Hill in the hallway.

"Mr. Darcy is awake if you would tell my father." Despondent, Elizabeth turned the handle to her own room and crawled into bed with Jane. Half asleep, Jane asked how Elizabeth's walk was with a groggy voice.

As tears slid down her cheeks, Elizabeth sniffed and tried to regulate her voice. "It was perfectly fine."

~~~♥~~~♥~~~

By mid-morning, Elizabeth sat in the parlor doing her best to ignore her mind's memory of Mr. Darcy's harsh awakening. With the Bingleys arriving shortly after breakfast due to the health issues of their friend, she didn't have the luxury of running to the outdoors nor closing herself up in her bedroom. She continued to read the same page of her novel over and over again, but the romantic nature of the tome failed to capture her attention.

The silence in the parlor was broken by a great roar above, coming from Mr. Darcy's room.

"Oh heavens! They're killing him up there, I'm sure. What could a local apothecary possibly do to aid in this great tragedy?" Caroline Bingley fluttered her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes even though to Elizabeth's view, they were bone dry.

Another yell in Mr. Darcy
's deep voice rang out and Elizabeth's traitorous heart ached. She wanted to run upstairs and comfort the poor man, but chided herself for feeling such an unwanted and unreturned sentiment. Instead she slammed her book shut and placed it on the table.

"His arm must be lanced or the swelling will injure him permanently. It's a very painful procedure and I understand he refused laudanum," Elizabeth sniffed in Caroline's direction after exhibiting her superior knowledge of the subject.

"How very quaint Miss Eliza that you are training to be an apothecary's assistant. I'm sure such a profession will suit you well." Caroline threw an insult back with a devilish smile.

Next to her on the couch, Elizabeth's sister Jane made a small noise as her mouth fell open in shock.
Elizabeth placed a hand on Jane's clenched fist and gave a brilliant smile in return. Then she erupted into laughter.

"He doesn't give you the time of day, does he? All your fawning and complaints about my conduct towards Mr. Darcy are because you are in love with him. Or his bank ledger, more likely." Cooly, Elizabeth helped herself to some refreshments lingering on the parlor table from the Bingley's arrival.

Caroline's face reddened in fury and her mouth twisted into a most unflattering scowl. Just before she could retort, two sets of men's footsteps could be heard taking the stairs.

"Thank you so much for your continued care of my friend. He can be, well, a bit difficult in his convalescing." Bingley spoke over his shoulder to Mr. Bennet as the two men traversed the flight of steps and paused at the foot of them.

Mr. Bennet clapped the younger man's shoulder in friendship before removing his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the sweat from his brow. It had taken a great deal of strength out of the old man to help keep Mr. Darcy's arm still so Mr. Jones, the apothecary, could do his work.

"What are neighbors for?"

Shortly, the two Hertfordshire gentlemen were joined by Mr. Jones who had finally collected his things.

"He sleeps, and the arm should heal. The rest of his injuries are remarkably minor. I expect later today or tomorrow he can be moved to your residence, Mr. Bingley." Mr. Jones bowed to both men and followed Mr. Bennet to his study for payment.

Exuberant, Mr. Bingley turned to join the women in the parlor and completely missed the icy stares between the three women. He bowed his head slightly to the two Bennet sisters in the room, ignoring his own sister, and found his way to the high-backed chair on Jane's side of the sofa.

Seconds ticked by on the mantle clock as the silence lengthened and Mr. Bingley finally began to fidget uncomfortably in his seat. Clearing his throat, he thought he should perhaps try to strike up conversation but none of the normally polite subjects one spoke about in a parlor came to his recall. Absently, he looked up at the ceiling and realized what was likely distressing the women.

"Forgive us ladies, the sounds of Mr. Darcy's treatment were quite frightful. I assure you Mr. Jones performed a top-notch job." Bingley beamed at the woman to his left, Jane Bennet.

Elizabeth's anger still prevented her from making a polite remark so she simply nodded. For once she wished she had accompanied her mother and three younger sisters to Meryton on their shopping jaunt. Tapping her foot on the pale green carpet, the bitterness in her mouth gave way as she heard her usually quiet sister begin to speak.

"It is a marked measure of your family's kindness towards Mr. Darcy to see you and your sister here today, Mr. Bingley." Slyly, Jane looked up at Mr. Bingley through her eyelashes and batted them. Elizabeth sucked in her breath in surprise. Was her sister flirting with Mr. Bingley?

"The kindness is all your family, Miss Bennet. You've taken in a relative stranger and nursed him back to health." Mr. Bingley kept eye contact with Jane, ignoring his sister's glare.

Rising from the couch, Elizabeth looked directly at Miss Bingley before announcing she realized she had selected the wrong novel this morning and would retrieve the correct one. Bouncing with each step, Elizabeth was overjoyed she had managed to leave Jane with Mr. Bingley and do the one thing that Miss Bingley could not, go upstairs and check on Mr. Darcy. She had overheard the apothecary say he was sleeping, so it couldn't harm anyone for her to take a peek for herself, could it?