by Zoë Burton
Darcy’s Uneasy Betrothal
By Zoe Burton
Darcy’s Uneasy Betrothal
Zoe Burton
Published by Zoe Burton
© 2020 Zoe Burton
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without permission from its publisher and author.
Early drafts of this story were written and posted on fan fiction forums in April 2020.
Acknowledgements
First, I thank Jesus Christ, my Savior and Guide, without whom this story would not have been told. I love you!
Thanks go to my friends, Rose and Leenie, for always being there when I need you.
Additional thanks go to the Allins at Bakery on the Square in Andover, Ohio, where I wrote the majority of this book. Keep the tea coming! ☺
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Before you go …
About the Author
Connect with Zoe Burton
More by Zoe Burton
Chapter 1
Elizabeth Bennet tromped along the hedgerow that marked the boundary between her father’s estate, Longbourn, and the neighbouring one, a small place called Netherfield Park. Her lightly flushed skin glistened and her legs were pleasantly achy after the long walk. Though she was weary, she knew her energy would return soon and she would be able to walk home at a more leisurely pace than she had set so far.
As Elizabeth neared the roadway, where the hedgerow ended, she lifted her face to the sun, smiling at the feel of the warm rays on her cheeks. She swung her bonnet and faced forward again, breaking into a run so as to reach her destination a few moments earlier. A snort and the sound of hooves on the ground startled her and she stopped, spinning toward the noise. Her eyes widened to see a bull charging in her direction. She gasped, looking frantically around for a way of escape.
~~~***~~~
Fitzwilliam Darcy urged his gelding, Apollo, into a trot as he left the village of Meryton. He was only a couple miles away from his friend’s leased estate and after a long morning in the saddle, he was eager for a bath and a meal.
As he rode, Darcy took note of the neat hedges and freshly-harvested fields he passed. He was impressed with the care his friend’s new neighbours took with their land. Finally, he noted the landmarks Bingley had indicated were close to Netherfield Park. His relief at seeing the hedge with the large oak tree near the end of it was soon replaced with horror. He witnessed a woman begin to run toward the road, a large, black bull giving chase.
Darcy kicked Apollo into a gallop. The animal quickly covered the short distance, and his rider pulled on the reins to stop him just as the woman reached the end of the hedgerow. Darcy threw himself off his horse and pulled his pistol out of his trenchcoat pocket. He stopped, aiming the weapon at the bull’s shoulder, and pulled the trigger before making a mad dash to the woman’s side.
The ball embedded itself in the raging bovine’s shoulder, causing him to stumble. He righted himself, in pain and looking for the cause of his discomfort.
Seeing that the bull had become distracted, Darcy threw himself at the woman, bringing her down nearly under the hedge and covering her completely with his body.
This action seemed to further confuse the bull, whose head swayed back and forth as though seeking something. He trotted forward, not noticing that his hooves kicked an object.
Darcy grunted as he felt the heavy blows to his legs and side. He kept his arms extended, with elbows next to the lady’s head to protect her and with his hands over his own. The woman never made a sound, but he did not want to risk regaining the bull’s attention, so he did not attempt to see if she was well. He heard the sound of the bull’s steps recede at the same time he became aware of riders on horseback.
“I say, sir, are you well?”
Darcy was startled when a voice entered his ear from inches away. He lifted his head, looking warily around for the bull but finding instead a young boy dressed in simple clothing. “I believe I am, thank you.” He lifted his torso up to his elbows. “I am uncertain about the young lady.” He looked down to see the woman he had rescued had her eyes closed. His brow creasing, he spoke to her, and when she did not respond, shook her shoulder.
“Not looking well, is she, sir? Shall I go to Longbourn and fetch her papa?”
Darcy looked up, brow still creased, and turned his intense stare on the lad, who peered with pale face at the woman. “Do you know this young lady?”
The boy swallowed, his gaze riveted on the girl. “Aye, sir, I do. ‘Tis one of the Miss Bennets. Miss Lizzy, I venture. She would be the only one to walk this far alone.” He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “Should I go?”
“Yes, please do. Once you have alerted them, please find the local physician or apothecary.”
With a sharp nod, the boy ran off.
Darcy suddenly realized his position, lying atop the young woman. “Miss Bennet,” Darcy murmured to himself. He hastily rose to his knees and began running his hands over her limbs, finding no indication of a break. Next, he slid a hand around to the back of her head. When his fingers came away bloody, he realized she had hit her it when he knocked her down. Darcy pulled out a kerchief that had been in his pocket, removed his greatcoat to cover the lady with, and moved to the other side of her. He swallowed when his new vantage point revealed a small pool of red. No wonder the lad could not pull his eyes away, Darcy thought. With a deep breath, he swallowed again, mentally bracing himself, and pressed the cloth against the wound.
Darcy sat on the ground beside Elizabeth, one hand holding hers while the other kept the kerchief pressed to the back of her head, and spoke to her. “Wake up, Miss Bennet. Your family will want to see you well.” He paused, but as had happened for all of the past quarter hour, the lady neither moved nor spoke. He had not shifted her for fear of injuring her further, but the longer he sat there observing her situation, the more certain he was that her only injury was the bump on the head that caused the bleeding.
Darcy continued to press the cloth to the back of Elizabeth’s head. Periodically, he moved it to check the bleeding, which did seem to be lessening.
Beginning to tire from the drama of the rescue and the stress of sitting in his awkward position, Darcy looked back in the direction the boy had run. He could not see anyone coming, but he did locate his gelding munching on grass a short distance away. Darcy whistled, and the well-trained animal immediately gave up his meal and trotted to his master’s side. Darcy carefully rested Elizabeth’s head on the rock she had hit it on, with the handkerchief bunched between the two, and rose, shaking the stiffness out of his limbs. He moved to the leather bags that hung behind his saddle and pulled out an extra coat and put it on. He then moved the reins from over the horse’s neck and dropped them to the ground. Apollo was trained to remain in one spot when this happened, so Darcy knew his mount would not wander off.
Darcy had no more than retaken his seat when the sound of a wagon came rattling up the road. The equipage steered onto the grass when it came close, and
he could see the boy he had sent sitting next to the driver. He stood.
“Here you go, sir. This is Mr. Hill. He is Longbourn’s man of all work.” The boy sketched a quick bow to Darcy and turned to watch as the older man clambered down off the cart.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Hill. The lad …,” Darcy turned to the boy.
“Tommy, sir.”
Darcy nodded. “Tommy tells me the young lady here is a Miss Bennet. Can you confirm that?”
Mr. Hill had been craning his neck to see past Darcy from the moment he stepped off the wagon. He pulled his cap off and wrung it in his hands, shifting on his feet. “Indeed it is. That be Miss Lizzy. Is she well? The mistress will be mighty upset when she hears of this.”
Darcy did not reply to the servant’s comment about his mistress. Instead, he turned and knelt, gathering the girl into his arms. He stood with his burden and turned. “You will take us to the house?”
Mr. Hill jumped. “Oh! Yes, sir, I will.” He hurried around to lower the tailgate on the cart.
Darcy approached and, seeing he was tall enough that he could maneuver himself into the wagon without setting his burden down, turned so his back was to it. He raised a leg and settled his hip in the wagon bed, then pulled the leg in. He leaned against the side of the cart and lifted his other leg up. As Mr. Hill closed the back panel, Darcy gave instructions about Apollo. “Tie my horse here to the back and we will be ready to go.”
Two minutes later, Darcy looked down at the burden in his arms. He caressed the side of her face, speaking softly to her as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You will be with your family again in just a few minutes, Miss Bennet. They will want to see your beautiful eyes. Will you open them for me?” When she did not respond, Darcy sighed. I do not understand this tenderness I feel for you, he thought, but I promise you will be well again, if I must ride to London myself for a decent physician.
~~~***~~~
The ride to Longbourn was not a long one and just as Darcy started feeling uncomfortable with the rub of the wagon’s side at his back, the cart pulled into a large paddock, following a sweeping drive that curved around in front of a well-maintained four-storey house. The door opened before Mr. Hill could alight and let the back panel down. A middle-aged woman rushed across the porch and down the four shallow steps, followed by two young ladies and a second middle-aged woman, this one wailing at the top of her lungs and waving a frilly kerchief. Darcy swung his legs down just as the first woman reached his side.
“Bring her inside, sir.” The woman hesitated. “Mr. Hill can carry her if you wish him to.”
Darcy shifted his burden higher into his arms. “No need. I will carry her.” He tipped his head toward the house. “Lead on.”
With a single nod of her head, the woman turned and hastened up the steps. The three other ladies stepped back, out of Darcy’s way, then filed in behind him as he entered the house. He followed the woman, who he supposed must be the housekeeper, based on her manner of dress, across the great hall and up the staircase to the second floor. The wailing woman behind him never ceased her noise, and the two younger ladies were close on his heels but silent.
At the top of the staircase, Darcy followed the woman down the hallway to the left and into the first room on the right. He paused his movement to allow her to turn down the bed, then gently placed his burden on the mattress. He lingered a moment, staring at the girl while he willed her to open her eyes, but when she did not, he reluctantly withdrew. Immediately, the young ladies swarmed her. He soon found himself pushed out the door, which was slammed in his face. He turned and descended the stairs, his feet like leaden weights. He looked up when he heard a voice.
“Good afternoon. I am Thomas Bennet, the master of this estate.”
Darcy returned the gentleman’s bow. “Fitzwilliam Darcy of London and Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
“Mr. Hill tells me you rescued my daughter.” Bennet had a crease between his brows. His eyes darted up the stairs and back to the visitor. “Come into my book room and have a drink. I suspect you need one.” Without another word, the older gentleman turned and strode across the hall and into the room nearest the stairs on that side.
Darcy followed, weary to the bone. He would have rather finished his trip to his friend’s estate, but knew the gentleman would want to know what happened to his daughter. Settling his features into the bland mask he always wore in uncomfortable situations, especially with strangers, he took the chair the older gentleman indicated.
“Port?” Bennet picked up a bottle off the sideboard and lifted a brow in Darcy’s direction.
“Yes, please.” Darcy settled into his seat, murmuring his thanks to Bennet when he handed off the glass of rich, red liquid.
Bennet settled into a chair facing Darcy’s and sipped his drink. He leaned back, grasping the glass in both hands, and looked his guest up and down.
“Mr. Hill shared with me the facts he could get out of young Tommy, but the story seems a bit muddled. Why do you not tell me what happened?”
Darcy took a fortifying sip of port, allowing it to wash over his taste buds. Then, he relayed to Bennet everything that happened, from a description of the bull to the moment he laid the man’s daughter on her bed.
Bennet shook his head. “From your description and the fact that young Tommy is from Holly Grove, I would venture to guess the bull you mentioned is the Longs’. That thing is forever escaping its pasture.” Bennet took a larger drink. “I knew it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt by it.” He looked at Darcy. “I am grateful to you for being there in time to save my daughter. Who knows what that beast would have done to her had you not happened by.”
“You are welcome. I hesitated to kill it outright, not knowing to whom it belonged or what their circumstances were. I am grateful my shot distracted it enough that I was able to save Miss Bennet.” Darcy resisted the urge to shift in his seat. “I sent Tommy for the apothecary …”
Bennet opened his mouth to reply just as someone pounded on the front door. “That is probably him there. Mr. Jones is a good man.” He paused as the door was answered and footsteps thundered on the stairs, followed by the brief sound of wailing. “You might wish for another glass of port once he ejects my wife from the room, as he usually does.”
As if on cue, the sound of the mistress of Longbourn’s sobbing filled the air once more, followed by the slamming of two doors, one after the other. Darcy’s left eyebrow quirked up and he lifted his glass to take a healthy swig.
Bennet chuckled. “Would you care for more?”
“Yes, please.” Darcy held his glass toward the gentleman.
After refilling both drinks, Bennet handed Darcy’s back to him and eased himself into his own chair. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I have five daughters, and Elizabeth, the one you rescued, is the second. I should not have a favourite, I suppose, but I do, and she is it. I would like to be upstairs, hovering over her as her sisters are likely to be doing, but experience has told me I would not be welcome, so I remain here.” He glanced upward again at the sound of a door opening and closing. “Lizzy has not been hurt in her adventures for years.”
Darcy examined Bennet’s creased brow and pensive expression and sought to ease his anxiety. “I am guardian to my much younger sister. I would be distraught in your place.”
Bennet nodded and swallowed. He remained silent for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw clenching and loosening.
Darcy sipped his port, looking away to give his host time to compose himself. He made a careful examination of the mantel and the fire and soon, Bennet cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Forgive me, sir.”
“Think nothing of it,” Darcy murmured. He paused, and when Bennet said nothing more, continued. “I should like to be kept apprised of Miss Elizabeth’s health, if I may?”
Bennet nodded. “Of course. You said you are staying at Netherfield with Mr. Bingley?”
Chapter 2
>
“I am.” Darcy set his glass on the small table between his chair and Bennet’s and rested his hands on the arms of the furniture. “I am sure Bingley is won-.”
A knock on the book room door startled Darcy and made Bennet jump.
“Come!” The master of Longbourn rose and turned toward the wooden panel. Darcy followed suit.
The apothecary stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and bowing to the occupants. “I have completed my examination of Miss Elizabeth.”
Bennet waved Mr. Jones into the room. “I have been awaiting your report. Come, sit here and have a drink.”
Jones tipped his head toward his patient’s father and stepped toward the grouping of chairs near the fire, taking a seat on the other side of Bennet from where Darcy was. He accepted a glass of port and sipped it with enthusiasm while Bennet resumed his chair.
“How is she?” Bennet did not sit back. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and stared at the apothecary.
“She is awake but confused and complaining of a headache. That is not unusual with a blow to the head such as she has had.” Jones lifted his shoulders. “There is so much we do not know about the brain and injuries to that area. She could suffer for months from the headaches and confusion, or she could recover completely in a week or so. She has no other injuries beyond a cut to her scalp, which I have stitched together, and there is no bleeding from the ears.”
Bennet nodded, closing his eyes and dropping his head for a moment. “And her care?”
“I have given Mrs. Hill, Miss Bennet, and Miss Mary instructions. Miss Elizabeth is not to be left alone. I want someone with her at all times to monitor her situation. They are to give her sips of water and broth, as much as she can take, and to speak to her. Read her books or even repeat gossip to her. She may lose the contents of her stomach for the first few hours, but that should stop eventually.” Jones’ tone grew harsh. “Her mother is not to attend her unless she can control herself. The girl needs a quiet environment.”