Chapter 2 - It Pours
"We should check the Longbourn road first," Darcy said as they mounted. Bingley nodded his agreement, and they rode out into the storm, the wind whipping their coats and rain pelting their faces. The well-maintained road had turned treacherous, with mud and standing water making the footing uncertain. Fallen branches littered their path, forcing them to slow their pace and pick their way carefully.
Darcy was soaked to the skin within minutes. He would have preferred to stay warm and dry inside, but his conscience would never have allowed him to let Bingley search alone. He tried to tell himself the chase was merely delayed by the poor road conditions, but each fallen branch they passed heightened his concern for Miss Elizabeth's safety.
"Could she have taken shelter somewhere before the worst of this hit?" Bingley shouted over the howling wind. "Perhaps at one of the tenant farms?"
Darcy shook his head, though he wasn't sure Bingley could see the gesture through the rain. The chase wouldn't have deviated from the main road in this weather. Unless... He pushed away the thought of accidents, of carriages struggling on the muddy surface.
ooOoo
Elizabeth pressed herself against the wall beneath her, trying to stay still as the men's efforts made the chase creak and groan. Her head throbbed, and she could still taste blood. Through the cracked window above, she caught glimpses of movement - shadows of her rescuers working in the rain. Each scrape of metal against the frame made her flinch. What if their attempts to free her only made the chase shift further?
She could hear their efforts clearly now - grunts of exertion, muttered curses quickly followed by apologetic coughs when they remembered her presence. The door above her, designed to swing outward, remained stubbornly jammed.
"The whole frame's twisted, miss!" one called through the wall. "We're trying to force the hinge, but…" His voice was lost in another gust of wind and the drumming rain.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, fighting against rising panic. Rain dripped steadily through the door seams, each drop marking the passing moments. She tried to focus on breathing evenly, tried to ignore both the bench seat looming above her and the ominous creaking of the twisted frame.
A sudden crack made her start, the chase shuddering around her. "Almost got it, miss!" But despite their renewed efforts, the door remained firmly jammed.
ooOoo
The fact that it was Elizabeth Bennet had nothing to do with his decision to brave the storm, Darcy told himself firmly. They would likely find her already safe at Longbourn, perhaps sitting by their fire. He pictured the scene - being invited in to wait out the storm, served tea while the roads cleared… But the image dissolved as another gust of wind drove the rain harder against his face.
Through the gloom ahead, he spotted movement - several dark figures gathered around something in the road. As they drew closer, his heart clenched. The chase lay on its side, its elegant lines now broken and twisted. One wheel turned slowly in the air, while a massive fallen tree blocked half the road beside the wreck.
The footmen were huddled around the twisted door frame, their faces streaked with rain and effort as they strained against a makeshift lever. They looked up at the sound of approaching horses, relief flooding their exhausted faces.
"Mr. Bingley! Mr. Darcy!" One of them called, straightening from his position at the lever. "Miss Bennet is trapped inside - the door's completely jammed!"
Darcy was off his horse before the man finished speaking, tossing the reins aside. "Miss Bennet!" he called, striding toward the overturned chase. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes!" Her voice came faintly through the walls, higher than usual. "The door is jammed - I cannot reach it!"
His chest tightened at the strain in her voice. Though she was clearly trying to maintain her composure, he could hear the tremor she fought to control. The sight of the chases mangled frame, the tree that had caused such destruction - his jaw clenched as he fought down a surge of helpless anger.
ooOoo
Elizabeth's heart leapt at the sound of Mr. Darcy's voice, though she immediately chided herself for such a reaction. She wiped fresh blood from her lip where she had bitten it during the crash, trying to compose herself. The knowledge that he was outside somehow made her more acutely aware of her dishevelled state, trapped here at such an odd angle with her skirts tangled around her.
She tried to shift to a more dignified position, but her ankle protested sharply at the movement. The sound of his voice giving orders outside was both reassuring and mortifying. To be found like this, to need rescue… She bit her lip again, then winced at the sting.
"The hinge is bent, sir," she heard one of the footmen explaining. "We've been trying to force it, but the whole frame's twisted—"
A new sound of scraping and creaking metal cut through the rain. More voices joined the effort outside, and Elizabeth felt the chase shift ominously. The bench seat above her creaked, and she pressed herself harder against the wall.
She couldn't suppress a cry of pain as her ankle twisted with the movement. Her hands scrabbled against the smooth panels, finding nothing to grip as she slid awkwardly in the confined space. The mortification of crying out, of showing such weakness with Mr. Darcy right outside, only made it worse.
ooOoo
The sound of Elizabeth's cry cut through him like a knife.
"Stop!" he shouted to the men. "The chase is shifting - you'll bring the whole frame down!"
He moved closer to the damaged vehicle, his heart pounding. "Miss Bennet?" His voice gentled with concern. "Are you hurt? Please, tell me where you are positioned inside."
He waited, straining to hear through the rain drumming against the chases exposed undercarriage. His hands clenched at his sides, useless.
"I'm very well, Mr. Darcy," came her voice, attempting lightness despite its tremor. "Enjoying the lovely weather we are having today."
"Indeed, Miss Bennet. Though perhaps next time you might choose a more conventional way to appreciate it." Despite his fear for her safety, Darcy felt his lips twitch. Trust Elizabeth Bennet to maintain her wit even while trapped in an overturned chase.
He quickly assessed the situation. The chases door was bent and twisted in its frame, and their attempts to force it had only destabilized the already precarious position. They needed a different approach.
"Bingley, have someone check the opposite side - see if that door is accessible." He was already shrugging off his coat, the rain forgotten. "And we'll need more men. That fallen tree - if we could shift it, we might be able to right the chase enough to work the door free."
The footmen exchanged glances - the tree that had caused this disaster might now be their best chance at rescue. Two of them hurried to examine its position while Bingley circled to the other side of the chase.
But even with four men straining against the massive trunk, it barely shifted. The rain had made the bark treacherously slick, and its weight was too much for them. Darcy stepped back, wiping rain from his face as he searched for another solution. His eyes fixed on the chases window frame - small, but if they could clear the remaining glass…
"John, see if you can find a sturdy branch - something we can use as a lever." He turned back to the chase. "Miss Elizabeth?" His voice gentled. "We're going to try the window. Can you tell me if you're far from it?"
He waited, the rain drumming against the chase making it difficult to hear her response. His mind raced through calculations - the size of the window frame, Elizabeth's slight frame, the risk of remaining glass…
ooOoo
Elizabeth pressed her forehead against the damp wall of the carriage, trying to steady her breathing. Her attempt at levity had cost her - the effort of speaking normally through her fear had been exhausting. But she had heard the concern in Mr. Darcy's voice, and somehow that made the confined space a little more bearable.
The sounds of the men's efforts continued outside - shouted instructions, the scraping of wood against metal, the constant drumming of the rain. She tried to focus on these sounds rather than the creaking of the carriage around her, or the throbbing in her ankle, or the taste of blood in her mouth. Her shoulder ached where she had struck the wall, and she could feel bruises forming from being tossed about during the accident.
ooOoo
While they waited for John to return, Darcy moved to examine the window more closely. Most of the glass had shattered during the crash, leaving jagged edges around the frame. He peered inside, trying to see through the gloom. "Miss Elizabeth?"
"Here," came her voice, closer now. Through the window, he could just make out her form. She was wedged between what had been the far wall and the curved ceiling of the chase, one hand braced against the leather cushions for balance. Even in the dim light, he could see how pale she was. A smear of blood marked her cheek where she had wiped at her mouth, and his chest tightened at the sight.
The window frame was narrow, but Elizabeth was slight. If they could clear the remaining glass… He measured the opening with his eyes, calculating. The chases windows were designed to let in light and air, not serve as exits, but they might have no choice. "Miss Elizabeth, the travelling blankets - are they within your reach? We'll need them to protect you from the glass."
"Yes," she replied, her voice steadier now there was a plan. "They fell with me during the crash. Though they're quite damp now."
"Darcy!" Bingley called, splashing through the mud around the chase. "The other door's completely crushed against the ground - the frame's buckled where it hit. Though if we had enough men to right the chase…" He trailed off, eyeing the high-mounted body uncertainly.
"No." Darcy's response was immediate and sharp. The chases lighter frame, which made it so manoeuvrable on good roads, would make any attempt to right it dangerous - one wrong move and the whole thing could collapse. He barely heard Bingley's muttered agreement, his attention caught by approaching footsteps.
"John!" The footman had returned, dragging a sturdy oak branch stripped of its smaller limbs. "Will it serve?"
"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy called through the window, "we're going to try the lever again. Please brace yourself - the chase may shift." He watched anxiously as the men positioned the branch against the twisted door frame. The wood groaned under the strain of their efforts, but the door remained firmly jammed.
"It's no use, sir," John said finally, wiping rain from his face. "The frame's too badly twisted - we'll break the branch before we move it."
Darcy returned to the window. "Miss Elizabeth, the door is beyond repair. We'll have to get you out through here." He peered in anxiously. "Can you cover yourself with the blankets first? I'll need to clear the remaining glass, and I don't want any to fall on you."
Once he saw she was protected, he began carefully clearing the frame, using his coat sleeve to protect his hand. Each shard he removed revealed how narrow the opening would be, but at least now he could work without fear of the falling glass harming her. "When I've finished," he called to her, "you'll need to make your way over here, keeping the blankets around you."
"Bingley," he called over his shoulder, "we'll need something stable to stand on. The window's too high to lift her down safely." His friend immediately began examining the scattered branches and debris for anything that might serve as a platform.
The rain made the glass treacherously slick as Darcy worked, but finally the frame was as clear as he could make it. He stripped off his sodden coat, carefully draping it over the remaining rough edges of the window frame. Now came the real challenge - getting Elizabeth through such a narrow opening.
"Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy asked gently, peering through the cleared window frame. "Do you think you can stand? We'll need to get you up to this level."
ooOoo
She gathered the damp blankets more tightly around herself, wincing as her bruised shoulder protested the movement. The cleared window frame seemed impossibly high from her position against the chases wall. Her ankle throbbed fiercely at the mere thought of putting weight on it. Mr. Darcy's voice came through clearer now without the glass, but the prospect of climbing up to that height made her stomach clench with fresh anxiety.
"I believe so," she replied, though her ankle protested at the slightest movement. Using the leather bench seat above her for support, she pulled herself upright, struggling to keep the blankets in place. The chases frame groaned ominously at her movement. The wall beneath her feet was slick with rain that had leaked through during their rescue attempts. Through the cleared window, she could see Mr. Darcy's face and shoulder as he leaned in, his right arm extended toward her while his left braced against the chases frame.
"Careful," his voice held a note of concern she had never heard before. "Take your time. The frame is clear, but…" He glanced at the narrow opening, then back to her. "Keep hold of the blankets - there might still be sharp edges."
She reached up toward his outstretched hand, trying to keep the protective blankets around her with her other arm. Her fingers had almost brushed his when her injured ankle buckled beneath her. She caught herself against the leather seat, unable to completely suppress a gasp of pain.
ooOoo
Darcy's heart lurched at her gasp of pain. "Elizabeth!" He leaned further through the window frame, his coat protecting him from any remaining sharp edges as he strained to reach her. The rain made the chases frame treacherously slick, and each movement brought an ominous creaking from the twisted metal.
"Steady there, sir!" Bingley called sharply from behind him. "If you slip, you'll bring the whole frame down on top of her."
Elizabeth looked up at him through the window frame, her face white with pain. "Perhaps," she managed, trying to sound light despite her situation, "we might try again? Though I confess, I'm finding the prospect of climbing rather daunting at present."
Darcy forced himself to lean back slightly, though every instinct urged him to reach further for her. "We'll find another way," he assured her, his mind racing through possibilities. "Bingley, those branches you found - could we fashion some kind of support beneath the window?"
Darcy forced himself to lean back slightly, his mind racing. If he could get through the window himself… But no, his shoulders were too broad for the narrow opening. He glanced at John's slighter build, then dismissed the thought - adding more weight inside the unstable chase would only make things worse.
"Miss Elizabeth," he called, making his decision, "I'm going to brace myself here. When you're ready, try again - I'll be able to reach further this time."
Bingley moved to brace him from behind as Darcy positioned himself more securely at the window. "Ready when you are, Miss Elizabeth," he called, reaching as far as he could into the chase while maintaining his grip on the frame.
He watched intently as she gathered herself for another attempt, her face pale but determined as she used the leather seat for support. Each movement of her slight form made the chase groan, and he had to force himself to remain steady, to not lunge further in at every sign of her distress.
"That's it," he encouraged as she drew closer, close enough now that he could see the pain etched in her features, the way she bit her lip against it. Rain dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn't dare move to wipe it away. "Just a little further…"
Her fingers brushed his, then caught hold. The touch sent a jolt through him that he forced himself to ignore. This was not the time for such observations. Her hand was cold and trembling in his, but her grip was surprisingly strong.
"I have you," he assured her, his voice rough with effort as he tightened his hold. "Now, when I count to three, push up with your good foot. Bingley and I will do the rest."
"One…" He felt Bingley's grip tighten on his coat. "Two…" Elizabeth's face was set with determination despite her obvious pain. "Three!"
She pushed up as he pulled, Bingley anchoring them both. For one heart-stopping moment, she seemed caught on something - the blankets perhaps - and then she was through the window, the momentum bringing her directly against his chest. His arms went around her automatically as they staggered back, Bingley's steady presence behind them preventing a fall.
For a moment, no one moved. She was trembling violently against him, her breath coming in short gasps. He could feel how cold she was even through the sodden blankets. The urge to tighten his hold, to warm her, was overwhelming.
Then propriety reasserted itself. He loosened his grip, though he kept one arm around her waist as she found her balance.
ooOoo
Elizabeth sagged against Mr. Darcy's supporting arm, relief at being free of the chase warring with mortification at her current state. The rain was still falling heavily, but after the confined darkness of her prison, even this gloomy day seemed blindingly bright. She blinked, trying to orient herself.
A shout made her turn sharply, her hands flying to her mouth in horror as she saw Thomas pitch sideways from his horse. Only John's quick reaction prevented him from hitting the ground hard. She took an instinctive step toward them, forgetting her injured ankle, and would have fallen if not for Mr. Darcy's steadying grip.
The pain shooting through her leg brought fresh tears to her eyes, though she tried to blink them away. When Mr. Darcy spoke of her needing to ride his horse, she felt her chest tighten with fresh panic. But there was no alternative - she could not walk, and Thomas's condition made it clear they needed to act quickly.
Created with Sketch.
Darcy felt Elizabeth gasp beside him, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. Looking down at her slight form, he was struck by how small and cold she appeared, her face white with pain and shock. When she instinctively stepped toward the fallen servant, her ankle gave way. He pulled her closer, steadying her against him. He squeezed her arm reassuringly, making sure she was steady on her feet before releasing her.
Darcy absently retrieved his coat from the chases window frame, shrugging it on without thought as he assessed their situation. "We must get you back to Netherfield."
"I can walk," Elizabeth insisted, lifting her chin despite her pallor. "It's not so very far."
"Miss Bennet," he said firmly, "you cannot walk in this condition." He gestured to his horse. "My mount is very gentle—"
He broke off as he saw the colour drain from her already pale face, her fingers gripping his arm tightly.
"I'm no horsewoman, Mr. Darcy," she said with a flash of her usual spirit, though her voice trembled slightly. "And I assure you, I can walk perfectly well." She attempted to demonstrate by taking a step, but her ankle betrayed her, and she had to catch at his arm to keep from falling.
"Miss Bennet," he said more gently, steadying her, "are you afraid of horses?"
She looked away, clearly mortified at having to admit such a weakness, but nodded slightly. The rain seemed to fall harder in the silence that followed.
"I will walk beside you the entire way," he said quietly, "and lead the horse myself." Then, turning to Bingley, "Should we send men back to help with the chase once we reach Netherfield?"
"No, there's nothing to be done until this storm passes," Bingley replied, already turning back to the injured servant. "Take my horse for Miss Bennet - he's steadier in this weather. We'll manage Thomas and secure what we can here."
"My mount will do well enough," Darcy said, noting Elizabeth's increased tension at the mere discussion of horses. "And that will leave you both horses for the return journey." Then, more gently to Elizabeth, "I understand you're not comfortable with riding, but I assure you, he is very gentle. I'll help you up and walk beside you the entire way. We'll go as slowly as you need."
Elizabeth bit her lip, clearly torn between her fear and the necessity of the situation. After a long moment, during which Darcy waited patiently, she gave a small nod.
He led her carefully toward his horse, speaking softly to calm both mount and rider. The animal stood quietly, steam rising from its rain-soaked flanks. "I'm going to lift you up now," he explained, his voice still gentle. "The pommel - that's the front of the saddle - will give you something secure to hold onto."
Elizabeth flinched at his first touch, though she tried to hide it. Darcy paused, giving her a moment to steady herself, before carefully placing his hands at her waist. Despite her fear, she allowed him to lift her, though her fingers gripped his shoulders with desperate strength. Once seated, she transferred that grip to the pommel, her knuckles white with the effort of maintaining her composure.
Darcy adjusted her skirts and made sure her feet were properly positioned in the stirrups, his movements careful and precise. "There," he said, his voice reassuring. "You're doing well." He kept one hand at her waist, steadying her as she swayed slightly in the saddle. The familiar motion reminded him of teaching Georgiana to ride - but this was decidedly different. The slight form beneath his hand was not his sister's, and he found himself acutely aware of Miss Elizabeth's presence, of the impropriety of his touch, necessary though it was.
"I'll stay right here beside you," he promised, pushing away such thoughts. "We'll go as slowly as you need."
She nodded, clearly still terrified but trying to be brave. Gathering the reins in his free hand, he maintained his steadying grip at her waist. The horse stood patiently, waiting for his command to move forward.
Taking a deep breath, Darcy urged the horse forward with the gentlest of pressures on the reins. He kept his pace measured, his hand steady at her waist as they began their slow journey through the rain. The muddy path would make for treacherous footing, but he found himself grateful for it - the need to watch his step helped distract him from the improper intimacy of their situation.
The rain continued to pour, soaking them both, but he barely noticed it. His attention was divided between guiding his horse safely through the mud and monitoring Miss Elizabeth's tense form above him. The sound of hooves was muffled by the sodden ground, leaving only the steady drumming of the rain.
ooOoo
Elizabeth's world had narrowed to three points of focus: her white-knuckled grip on the pommel, Mr. Darcy's steadying hand at her waist, and the terrifying movement of the horse beneath her. The rain continued to pour, but she barely felt it, too consumed by the effort of maintaining her composure. His hand remained firm at her waist, and she was acutely aware that she should protest such intimate support, but found herself pathetically grateful for it.
"You're doing well," his voice came from beside her, steady and reassuring. "I'll be right here the entire time."
Each step the horse took made her stomach lurch, though she tried to hide her fear. Mr. Darcy had been unexpectedly kind about her weakness - far kinder than she deserved after her previous poor opinions of him. Despite the rain and cold, despite her terror of riding and the pain in her ankle, she felt an unexpected rush of gratitude for his patience and care.
The wind howled around them as they made their slow progress towards Netherfield. Elizabeth found herself holding her breath with each step of the horse, only to release it in short, sharp gasps. She knew she should try to calm herself, but the height and movement beneath her made rational thought nearly impossible.
"Miss Bennet." Mr. Darcy's voice drew her attention from her rising panic. "My sister, Georgiana, was once afraid of horses."
The unexpected topic caught her interest despite her fear. "And did she overcome it?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling slightly. She was grateful for any distraction from the terrifying movement beneath her.
"She did, with time and patience," he replied, his voice carrying clearly despite the wind. "She had a fall when she was young, much like yourself. I used to walk beside her horse, just as I'm doing now, talking to her to distract her from her fear."
Elizabeth felt a small spark of hope at his words. Perhaps there was a way past this paralysing fear after all. "What did you talk about?" she asked, grateful for any distraction from the movement beneath her.
"Oh, all sorts of things," he replied, and Elizabeth found herself focusing on his voice rather than the movement beneath her. "Books we had read, music she was learning to play. Sometimes I would tell her stories of my time at Cambridge."
As he continued to speak, sharing stories of his sister and his own experiences, Elizabeth realized her grip on the pommel had loosened slightly. His steady voice became something of an anchor against her fear, and she found herself genuinely interested in these glimpses of the private Mr. Darcy.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly, yet his constant stream of conversation helped distract her from both her fear and the relentless rain. She found herself drawn into his descriptions of Pemberley through the seasons, smiling despite herself at tales of childhood hiding places. When he described Georgiana's dog chasing a flock of sheep into the library, she couldn't help but laugh, the absurd image momentarily overwhelming even her terror.
"I can scarcely imagine it," she said, surprised to find her voice steadier. "Was your father very angry?"
"He was more amused than anything," Mr. Darcy replied, and she could hear the warmth in his voice. "He helped us chase them out, laughing the entire time." The fondness in his tone as he spoke of his father gave her another glimpse of the private man behind his usual reserve.
As they continued their slow journey, Elizabeth became aware that the rain had begun to ease, though the wind still whipped at her skirts. With surprise, she realized her grip on the pommel had loosened considerably. His stories had done more than merely distract her - they had shown her a side of Mr. Darcy she had never expected to see.
"Mr. Darcy," she said softly, feeling she must acknowledge his kindness despite her embarrassment. "I want to thank you for your patience with my… weakness. Most gentlemen would think it terribly silly."
"Not at all, Miss Bennet," he replied immediately. "Fear is not something we choose, and you are showing great courage in facing yours." The earnestness in his voice made her cheeks warm, despite the chill rain. This gentle consideration was so unlike the proud, reserved Mr. Darcy she thought she had known.
Through the gloom, Elizabeth caught sight of Netherfield's chimneys. Her heart leapt with both relief and an unexpected regret. The combination of fear, cold, and pain had left her oddly light-headed, and she found herself swaying slightly in the saddle. Mr. Darcy's hand tightened at her waist, steadying her. While every part of her still yearned to have solid ground beneath her feet again, she found herself strangely reluctant to end this peculiar intimacy. In the space of their journey, he had become less the proud man she had judged him to be and more… something else entirely.
Feedback and comments are always welcome