Disclaimer: The characters are all Jane Austen's. The bizarre situation
I've stuck them in is mine!
Author's Note: My apologies for the delay. I was away from my computer for almost a week. Thank you all for your reviews. My head is inflating rather quickly thanks to all of my reviewers. If anyone is interested in beta-ing please do drop me an e-mail. I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations. Cheers, Aurelia Calliope P.S. - I like suspenseful endings, sorry!
Chapter Three- Some Rescue!
Elizabeth Bennet saw a horse approaching her at a quick speed. An enormous sense of relief spread over her. It did not matter who was on that horse, help had finally come. She could almost feel the scalding water of a hot bath pour over her, washing away the dirt and grime, and soothing all her aches and pains. She snapped back to attention to check on the progress of the horse and its rider. The horse was stopped and she watched as the rider hastily dismounted. She thought the figure, a tall man, looked familiar. A sense of dread came over her as she realized who her rescuer was. Her eyes widened and she gently pinched herself to make sure this was not some terrible nightmare. The feeling of relief at being found was quickly melting away into one of embarrassment and exasperation at being caught in her current situation by Mr. Darcy of all people.
"Miss Bennet!" His voice betrayed his surprise, concern, and bewilderment.
"Mr. Darcy." She replied, with a hint of irritation laced throughout the simple statement. She now wished that no one had come upon her at all. Perhaps she was being melodramatic, but she could not conceive of any way for fate to torment her more.
"What on Earth are you doing out in this weather, lying in the mud?" It was not a very polite question, although a perfectly reasonable one. He was baffled. A thousand different emotions threatened to attack him at once. He was incredulous, exasperated, and a little amused. He was not indifferent to the irony of this situation: him meeting the very person he had been trying to banish from his mind, and go to London to avoid! Good Lord, going to London tomorrow would be impossible; he would be stuck at Netherfield, most likely with a nasty cold, and most certainly with an invalid Elizabeth Bennet. Strangely this thought did not seem to bother him as much as it should have. The only important thing now was that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was lying on the ground, in the pouring rain.
"What do you suppose, Mr. Darcy?" Her voice stopped the mad progression of his thoughts, and her tone, laced with anger and sarcasm, surprised him. "You suppose that I came out to sit in the rain and mud? I was out walking and I hurt my ankle. Then the heavens decided it would be an excellent idea if they soaked me to the skin to complete the excellent day I was having."
"Please allow me to assist you. We should both be inside. Have you injured anything else?" He chose to ignore her cutting speech, although it vexed him, and he took a step forward in order to assure himself that she really was alright.
"Do not trouble yourself, sir, for I am sure I can make it back home." She coldly replied. "In fact I am sure I can make it back to Longbourn." She rose with her weight on one foot and gritted her teeth in pain as she carefully placed her weight on her bad ankle. "There you see..." As she spoke this, with a false smile plastered on her face, her bad ankle crumbled under her weight and she fell forward into his arms.
"Miss Bennet, you are hardly being reasonable. You cannot expect to walk three miles in the pouring rain on a bad ankle. I will take you to Netherfield." He spoke as he steadied her. She was now able to stand with her weight on his shoulder, and subsequently she felt more confident in her own ability to get home.
She might have been cold and tired, and it might have been a trying day, to say the least, but there was no way she was going to let him triumph over her in anything. How he must be inwardly rejoicing at having found her so humbled! Well she would not let him savor his victory for long. She would not give into his request to help her, not now, not ever. "I assure you, sir, it is nothing as bad as you would like to make it. Why, my ankle hardly hurts at all." She spoke this confidently, more to reassure herself than anything. She gritted her teeth and walked back towards home, hoping her limp was not as visible as it seemed to her.
"Miss Bennet! What exactly do you think you're doing?" He cried exasperated, as he walked after her at a brisk pace. He could not believe she would turn down his help when she was in obvious need of it. She was limping terribly. "You cannot expect me to let you walk three miles like that. You look as though you're about to fall over dead!" It was very ungentlemanly, he knew, but at that point he did not care what she thought. All he wanted to do was help her, and her irrational, hostile behavior was vexing him to no extent. He could not help thinking of whether or not she would accept Wickham's aid in such a situation, and it was this that firmed up his resolve to take action. Swiftly Mr. Darcy stepped forward, catching up to Miss Bennet with ease, since she was hobbling along at the rate of a ninety-year-old beggar woman.
"You are determined to refuse my help?" He asked harshly, accusing her of a determined, stubborn, irrational pride, which she was, at that moment, displaying.
"I don't need your help, Mr. Darcy. Allow me to say..."She was cut off by one swift motion. In a second she had been swept up into Mr. Darcy's arms. She was speechless. What was he thinking, what was he doing? His face was a portrait of resolve and determination. So, he thought he had won this battle, did he? She would show him. How dare he act in such a manner!
"What do you think you're doing?" She finally managed to get out. Her tone conveyed all her anger and hatred of him.
"Acting rationally and getting you out of the cold, since you seem incapable of making a good decision on your own!" His tone matched hers perfectly. He was so angry with this woman. How dare she act so to him? How dare she make him care about her, even though she treated him with such cruelty?
"Mr. Darcy, I really don't think..."She began again, but in a gentler tone, as though trying to make him aware of something. He, however, was determined not to let her have the upper hand in this.
"If there were another option, Miss Bennet, I would gladly make use of it." He cut her off rudely, trying to assert his dominance.
"Mr. Darcy..." She began more frantically, and more worried than her previous attempt. She was pulling hard on his jacket in a mad effort to get his attention.
"No, not another word of protest, it's for your own good..." He continued to cut her off rudely. Suddenly he felt the ground go out under him, his ankle twist painfully beneath him, and he found himself lying in a deep ditch with a livid and very muddy Elizabeth Bennet on top of him.
"What I was going to say, sir, before you so rudely cut me off is that you were heading for a ditch." She was furious. She wiped away the streaks of mud from her face as she glowered at him. How she hated this man! And now thanks to Mr. Darcy she was back at square one. This day was completely awful.
He was stuck in a muddy ditch with an irate Elizabeth Bennet in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. He would not being going to London. He would not be able to escape this captivating, infuriating woman in front of him for some time to come. Charles might be able to marry Jane Bennet after all, since he would not be able to talk some sense into him. Caroline Bingley would be able to fuss over him if he caught a cold. Well, that is if he and Miss Bennet did not murder each other first. Was it possible for there to be a worse case scenario?
Author's Note: My apologies for the delay. I was away from my computer for almost a week. Thank you all for your reviews. My head is inflating rather quickly thanks to all of my reviewers. If anyone is interested in beta-ing please do drop me an e-mail. I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations. Cheers, Aurelia Calliope P.S. - I like suspenseful endings, sorry!
Chapter Three- Some Rescue!
Elizabeth Bennet saw a horse approaching her at a quick speed. An enormous sense of relief spread over her. It did not matter who was on that horse, help had finally come. She could almost feel the scalding water of a hot bath pour over her, washing away the dirt and grime, and soothing all her aches and pains. She snapped back to attention to check on the progress of the horse and its rider. The horse was stopped and she watched as the rider hastily dismounted. She thought the figure, a tall man, looked familiar. A sense of dread came over her as she realized who her rescuer was. Her eyes widened and she gently pinched herself to make sure this was not some terrible nightmare. The feeling of relief at being found was quickly melting away into one of embarrassment and exasperation at being caught in her current situation by Mr. Darcy of all people.
"Miss Bennet!" His voice betrayed his surprise, concern, and bewilderment.
"Mr. Darcy." She replied, with a hint of irritation laced throughout the simple statement. She now wished that no one had come upon her at all. Perhaps she was being melodramatic, but she could not conceive of any way for fate to torment her more.
"What on Earth are you doing out in this weather, lying in the mud?" It was not a very polite question, although a perfectly reasonable one. He was baffled. A thousand different emotions threatened to attack him at once. He was incredulous, exasperated, and a little amused. He was not indifferent to the irony of this situation: him meeting the very person he had been trying to banish from his mind, and go to London to avoid! Good Lord, going to London tomorrow would be impossible; he would be stuck at Netherfield, most likely with a nasty cold, and most certainly with an invalid Elizabeth Bennet. Strangely this thought did not seem to bother him as much as it should have. The only important thing now was that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was lying on the ground, in the pouring rain.
"What do you suppose, Mr. Darcy?" Her voice stopped the mad progression of his thoughts, and her tone, laced with anger and sarcasm, surprised him. "You suppose that I came out to sit in the rain and mud? I was out walking and I hurt my ankle. Then the heavens decided it would be an excellent idea if they soaked me to the skin to complete the excellent day I was having."
"Please allow me to assist you. We should both be inside. Have you injured anything else?" He chose to ignore her cutting speech, although it vexed him, and he took a step forward in order to assure himself that she really was alright.
"Do not trouble yourself, sir, for I am sure I can make it back home." She coldly replied. "In fact I am sure I can make it back to Longbourn." She rose with her weight on one foot and gritted her teeth in pain as she carefully placed her weight on her bad ankle. "There you see..." As she spoke this, with a false smile plastered on her face, her bad ankle crumbled under her weight and she fell forward into his arms.
"Miss Bennet, you are hardly being reasonable. You cannot expect to walk three miles in the pouring rain on a bad ankle. I will take you to Netherfield." He spoke as he steadied her. She was now able to stand with her weight on his shoulder, and subsequently she felt more confident in her own ability to get home.
She might have been cold and tired, and it might have been a trying day, to say the least, but there was no way she was going to let him triumph over her in anything. How he must be inwardly rejoicing at having found her so humbled! Well she would not let him savor his victory for long. She would not give into his request to help her, not now, not ever. "I assure you, sir, it is nothing as bad as you would like to make it. Why, my ankle hardly hurts at all." She spoke this confidently, more to reassure herself than anything. She gritted her teeth and walked back towards home, hoping her limp was not as visible as it seemed to her.
"Miss Bennet! What exactly do you think you're doing?" He cried exasperated, as he walked after her at a brisk pace. He could not believe she would turn down his help when she was in obvious need of it. She was limping terribly. "You cannot expect me to let you walk three miles like that. You look as though you're about to fall over dead!" It was very ungentlemanly, he knew, but at that point he did not care what she thought. All he wanted to do was help her, and her irrational, hostile behavior was vexing him to no extent. He could not help thinking of whether or not she would accept Wickham's aid in such a situation, and it was this that firmed up his resolve to take action. Swiftly Mr. Darcy stepped forward, catching up to Miss Bennet with ease, since she was hobbling along at the rate of a ninety-year-old beggar woman.
"You are determined to refuse my help?" He asked harshly, accusing her of a determined, stubborn, irrational pride, which she was, at that moment, displaying.
"I don't need your help, Mr. Darcy. Allow me to say..."She was cut off by one swift motion. In a second she had been swept up into Mr. Darcy's arms. She was speechless. What was he thinking, what was he doing? His face was a portrait of resolve and determination. So, he thought he had won this battle, did he? She would show him. How dare he act in such a manner!
"What do you think you're doing?" She finally managed to get out. Her tone conveyed all her anger and hatred of him.
"Acting rationally and getting you out of the cold, since you seem incapable of making a good decision on your own!" His tone matched hers perfectly. He was so angry with this woman. How dare she act so to him? How dare she make him care about her, even though she treated him with such cruelty?
"Mr. Darcy, I really don't think..."She began again, but in a gentler tone, as though trying to make him aware of something. He, however, was determined not to let her have the upper hand in this.
"If there were another option, Miss Bennet, I would gladly make use of it." He cut her off rudely, trying to assert his dominance.
"Mr. Darcy..." She began more frantically, and more worried than her previous attempt. She was pulling hard on his jacket in a mad effort to get his attention.
"No, not another word of protest, it's for your own good..." He continued to cut her off rudely. Suddenly he felt the ground go out under him, his ankle twist painfully beneath him, and he found himself lying in a deep ditch with a livid and very muddy Elizabeth Bennet on top of him.
"What I was going to say, sir, before you so rudely cut me off is that you were heading for a ditch." She was furious. She wiped away the streaks of mud from her face as she glowered at him. How she hated this man! And now thanks to Mr. Darcy she was back at square one. This day was completely awful.
He was stuck in a muddy ditch with an irate Elizabeth Bennet in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. He would not being going to London. He would not be able to escape this captivating, infuriating woman in front of him for some time to come. Charles might be able to marry Jane Bennet after all, since he would not be able to talk some sense into him. Caroline Bingley would be able to fuss over him if he caught a cold. Well, that is if he and Miss Bennet did not murder each other first. Was it possible for there to be a worse case scenario?