Page 56 of Cousin Conundrum

Worry tightening her throat, Kitty went to sit by her sister, trying to decide how much of what she overheard to tell Jane. Almost as much as she wished she’d made it to the terrace in time to stop Cat, she wished Elizabeth were here.

***

Elizabeth slipped through the trees, trying to be quiet as she closed in on the voices ahead of her. They came from where the wide brook running through Netherfield Park’s land opened into a deep pool. Precisely where she guessed Miss Archer would lead Mr. Darcy for her dunk in the water. Elizabeth hadn’t been quick enough to follow them, but numerous rambles left her familiar with the land, allowing her to take a diagonal route. She held grudging respect for the Archers for finding the perfect place to play out their husband-catching scheme.

She hadn’t wanted to leave Jane’s side, but the terrace seemed a safe enough place. If any of the Miss Archers performed their little trip and kiss act there, plenty of eyes would bear witness that Mr. Bingley hadn’t initiated anything. The Archers would be exposed, and no one would be at home to them or call on them again.

And when she saw Miss Archer, playing against Miss Bingley while Mr. Darcy and Miss Edith watched, hit a shuttlecock on a high, arching path into the forest, Elizabeth made her excuses and started across the lawn before even thinking her actions through. She’d been incapable of standing there while Miss Archer lured Mr. Darcy into her trap like a spider lurking over a jar of honey.

Even though her behavior on the night of the assembly embarrassed Elizabeth to the point where simply looking at Mr. Darcy sent mortification coursing through her, and even though the man was a cad, Elizabeth couldn’t permit such a duplicitous plot to unfold. Especially not while Jane stood with Mr. Bingley on the terrace, in full view of the entire gathering. It was obvious Mr. Darcy walked into far more danger than awaited Mr. Bingley.

Reaching the edge of the clearing before the pool, Elizabeth found the two shoulder to shoulder, looking upward. A glance revealed a shuttlecock caught in a slender tree that leaned out over the water, the trunk so horizontal, Elizabeth suspected that after the first bit, she could walk along it. Again, she felt a grudging regard. One of the Archers must have climbed out to place the feathery shuttlecock there. While she could not condone their methods, she felt a shadow of respect for their dedication.

“…around the waist and hold me up, I will be able to reach it,” Miss Archer was saying even as Mr. Darcy began shucking his coat.

Elizabeth stepped free of the trees. “It will be easier to lift me, given my short stature.”

Both whirled, Mr. Darcy in the act of draping his coat over his arm.

Miss Archer leveled a look of pure venom at Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy appeared merely surprised. His gaze swept up and down her frame, likely assessing her stature. “Miss Elizabeth.”

His words rumbled, curling somewhere in her chest, and heat crept up her neck. He looked unperturbed, but that voice… Was he angry? Had he in fact wished to be alone in the forest with Miss Archer?

Fresh embarrassment rushed through Elizabeth. Certainly, he wished to be alone. Why had she not thought as much? A man who would kiss an unknown Bennet sister in the dark, not caring if she were Elizabeth or Mary, would welcome the stunning Miss Archer’s ploy to get him alone in the woods. Elizabeth was a complete dullard for thinking she was somehow rescuing him.

Worse, standing there in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, obviously preparing to lift Miss Archer or engage in some other vigorous activity, dappled sunlight bringing out tawny highlights in his thick hair, he was even more handsome than Elizabeth remembered. And she spent a great deal of time remembering, despite every effort not to.

Miss Archer looked back and forth between them. “I daresay Mr. Darcy is strong enough to pick up either of us.” She ran light fingers along his shirtsleeve. “I see your tailor has an easy task in you, Mr. Darcy. Not a touch of padding need be added to your jacket. I had wondered.” Her gaze raked him, coming to rest on his lips as her palm settled against his upper arm.

Elizabeth’s cheeks felt as if they could kindle dry leaves. She wanted to back away. To leave them to their diversions and pretend she had never seen a thing, but her feet wouldn’t move. In her gut, something hard and biting writhed each time Miss Archer touched him.

Mr. Darcy took a step back, out of her reach. “I will be lifting no one. I will climb the tree.”

“Do not be ridiculous.” Elizabeth gestured to the slanted trunk. “It will crack under your weight.” She thought it might even under hers, but one of the Archers had obviously made the climb and the tree held, stretched out over the pool. Due to how ‘short’ she was compared to them, Elizabeth couldn’t imagine any of them weighed less than she did. “I will climb it.”

“You will do no such thing,” he said harshly, turning to her. “It is not safe. I will see to it.”

Miss Archer stepped around him, into his line of sight. “You would risk your fine clothing simply to avoid putting your hands about the waist of a pretty girl?” Miss Archer laughed like champagne being poured, bright and bubbling. “Mr. Darcy. How silly you are.”

Elizabeth raised her gaze heavenward and started across the clearing. She did not need anyone’s permission to climb a tree. Certainly not Mr. Darcy’s. Frowning, he turned as if to intercept her path.

Miss Archer caught his arm and yanked him back. “Mr. Darcy, I demand you clasp me about the waist and lift me up this instant, to save poor Miss Elizabeth from danger.”

“Please remove your hand from my person, Miss Archer.”

Another laugh, high and tinkling. “You are so jolly, Mr. Darcy, and so fortunate I know when you merely jest. You are such an austere gentleman.”

“I do not jest. Remove your hand.”

Elizabeth reached the bottom of the trunk, the bark cracked and old, the tree barely alive. She said a prayer that she would not tear her gown and kicked off her slippers. Her face heated at the realization that Mr. Darcy would see her stockinged feet, but she wasn’t foolish enough to attempt reaching the shuttlecock in such smooth soles. Quickly, she half walked, half crawled the steepest part of the flaking bark, then stood, arms out for balance.

“Miss Elizabeth, return to the ground immediately.” Mr. Darcy’s voice held anger.

Did he so dislike being disobeyed?

“Yes, do,” Miss Archer echoed. “You shall come to harm, I am certain.”