Page 38 of Without Pride and Prejudice

“We cannot just let her lie here,” Fitz responded.

I supposed I should probably open my eyes now, considering I was in Fitz’s arms. He wasn’t holding me very tightly, though, almost as if he were afraid to hold me too close. Was Lady Catherine staring him down for touching me? But Fitz wouldn’t care what she thought. Or did he now?

I steeled myself, ready to see the disappointment from my latest blunder in Fitz’s eyes, even though all I wanted was to curl into him and have him make it all better, like he always did. Sadly, I wasn’t sure there was a way to make things better this time around. I wasn’t talking about my aching head and body—hopefully a little rest, some ice, and ibuprofen could fix those things. But that still left me with a devastated heart.

Bravely, I opened my eyes. “Fitz,” I moaned, wishing his coat didn’t feel so scratchy against my cheek. And I found it odd that he smelled like rose water now, when earlier he smelled like bergamot and vanilla. Maybe I did have a brain injury and it affected my olfactory sense. Yikes.

“Pardon me, madam, to whom are you referring?”

I lifted my pounding head off Fitz’s chest to flash him an annoyed look. This was taking things too far. “Fitz, stop messing around. I don’t feel well.”

Fitz stared at me. His gray broody eyes were unsettled and even confused. If I didn’t know better, I would say that he didn’t recognize me.

Oh my gosh. Was my face disfigured? “Fitz, what’s wrong with my face?” I pleaded for an explanation.

His eyes went from confused to ... irate. Why was he angry? Was it because I’d messed up my face and now we wouldn’t be able to project the perfect image?

“Madam, I am not used to being addressed so informally. I am Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

I couldn’t help but snort laugh. “Ha ha. Right. And I’m really Elizabeth Bennet.”

“So you are, Elizabeth Bennet,” Zane said brightly. “Your father came to call on me at Netherfield Park a fortnight ago.”

“I don’t remember that line being in the script,” I said, more than confused.

“Script? My dear lady, I feel the fall from your horse has addled your brain,” Zane replied, apparently unwilling to drop the Bingley act. I didn’t know what had gotten into him, but hopefully it meant he was stepping it up for Macey.

Anyway, I had my own man to worry about. I reached up and brushed my fingers across Fitz’s smooth cheeks that I swore had been perfectly stubbly just moments ago, before I decided to do the impossible—actually help someone.

Fitz startled and held me away from his body. “Madam, I must ask you to refrain from touching me with your ungloved hand.”

First, where had my gloves gone, and second, what the heck? “Okay, Fitz, this is ridiculous. You just said that you loved me—at least I thought you did. I think we’re a little beyond worrying about ungloved hands. You thoroughly kissed me last night, and just a few minutes ago, you were being all sexy with me, telling me I haven’t seen yourduke sideyet, which admittedly, I really want to see, even though I think you’re a jerk.”

“How dare you accuse me of kissing you and sharing words of love. And to speak of basket weaving in front of me is unconscionable.” Fitz sounded appalled.

I couldn’t help but giggle, even though it hurt that Fitz wouldn’t acknowledge the kiss or his confession of love. He’d once told me that in the Regency era, they would use euphemisms likebasket weavinginstead of sayingsex. To sound so disgusted by me sayingsexywas downright silly, considering I’d known him since we were sixteen and I’d heard him say some vulgar things himself over the years.

“Darcy, be kind to her. She is obviously injured and does not know what she is saying. She is even speaking with a strange accent,” Zane admonished him.

Strange accent? And I darn well knew what I was saying. I didn’t care if I was saying it in a French accent. I went to sayso, but as I looked around, I realized that everything looked different. Instead of neatly manicured grounds, tall grass and harvested fields surrounded us, and the lake had shrunk to the size of a duck pond. There wasn’t even a lily pad in sight. The forested area seemed smaller too. Stranger than that was all the houses save one—Longbourn—were gone. There, the Georgian-style house stood alone, with its brick facade and the ivy creeping up the sides of the house. It looked like I’d left it this morning, except for some chickens running around loose and the sound of mooing in the background. Where had the livestock come from? And why did it feel cooler?

Maybe I’d hit my head harder than I thought. I fell against Fitz. “Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. I think I need a CAT scan.”

“Cat scan?” Zane laughed. “I fear she really is unwell. She is talking nonsense. Best call for a doctor and not the apothecary.”

Yes, yes, I needed a doctor.

Thankfully, Fitz held me closer, making me feel more secure. I think he might have even smelled my hair. I hoped there was no mud or grass in it. My bonnet was obviously gone, my hair pins had fallen out, and the coiffure that our lady’s maid had so carefully fashioned this morning was in disarray. I can’t say I was sorry for that—I was more of a part-my-hair-to-the-side kind of girl instead of straight down the middle. But it was fun to look like Elizabeth, especially since I couldn’t find it within myself to behave like her.

When we reached Longbourn, Zane knocked on the door. I wasn’t sure why—no one would fault him for just entering the premises. No one even appeared to be home. Honestly, I wanted to know where everyone had disappeared to. Was Macey okay? Had I finally given Lady Catherine an aneurysm?

I heard the door creak open and a woman’s voice say, “Good day, sirs,” before she gasped.

I lifted my head to let whomever it was know I was all right. Or at least as right as I could be in this situation. I found the woman playing Mrs. Hill looking at me with a pale face, doing her best to keep her composure. Oh, I must have looked awful. Maybe my head had a gash. I reached up to see if I could feel anything.

“Good day. Are your master or mistress at home? Please inform them that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are waiting with a matter of serious import. As we happened to be riding near your park, we witnessed Miss Bennet thrown from her horse. She appears to have sustained some injury.” Zane took his own sweet time explaining. More irksome was his casual manner regarding a potentially life-threatening event for me. My brain could be bleeding, for all we knew.

“Follow me,” Mrs. Hill directed. “Make haste,” she implored. Finally, someone with a sense of urgency. Leave it to a woman to be concerned. Men. Sheesh. Although, I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just call for someone to dial 999.

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