Page 57 of Cousin Conundrum

Elizabeth ignored them, placing her feet with care as she stepped out over the water.

“Oh, I simply cannot watch,” Miss Archer cried.

A glance showed her clinging to Mr. Darcy’s arm, her face shoved into his shirt-sleeve clad shoulder, as he scowled up at Elizabeth.

“It is only a bit narrower than the top of a sheep wall,” Elizabeth called, focusing on her footing as she made her way forward. She’d walked many a sheep fence as a girl.

But the ground to either side of a sheep fence didn’t move, swirling endlessly across the top of a pond, and sheep fences were not nearly as high. Elizabeth locked her attention on the rough bark. She hadn’t realized the swiftness of the current until she stood above the pool. Ripples and leaves rushed past below, dizzying. She snapped her gaze back to her toes and drew in a breath.

“Miss Elizabeth, return before any ill befalls you. I will purchase a new shuttlecock for Bingley. I will purchase twenty.”

Miss Archer laughed again, as if Mr. Darcy’s strained words amused her. She murmured something low, likely directly into his ear, which she could easily reach being so near to his height. Elizabeth didn’t look, focused on the shuttlecock.

As Miss Archer continued her efforts, Elizabeth dipped down and scooped up the feather-adorned projectile. She stuck it in her skirt pocket, then pivoted, the motion smooth and easy. With a deep breath, she started back along the trunk.

“Slowly,” Mr. Darcy called. “Please take care.”

“Do you imagine I am not?” Elizabeth asked tartly.

A glance showed him pulling away from Miss Archer to follow Elizabeth’s progress along the bank. She snapped her gaze back but her attention caught on the dizzying ebb and ripple of the water. Halting, Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed, then reopened them, determined to look only at the brittle bark beneath her feet.

Her balance restored, she took another step.

Crack!

The sound rent the forest. Air rushed past Elizabeth. Splat! Water rose up to meet her as she reconnected with the trunk.

Her breath whooshed out, forced free by the impact. The spinning log dumped her in. She flailed, trying to grab on, sodden bark skidding beneath her palms. Downward she plunged, her skirt tangling about her legs. Her feet reached the gooey muck at the bottom and she pushed off as hard as she could, the mud absorbing her effort. With excruciating slowness, she glided upward. Struggling, she swept her arms downward, trying to reach the top.

Slam!

Her head crashed into unyielding bark. Darkness swarmed her brain.

Chapter Sixteen

Pain pounded through Elizabeth’s skull, dizzying. The world swayed about her as well, and she realized strong arms cradled her against an equally muscled chest. Who, where, or why, she couldn’t seem to recall. Nor could she pry her lids open. Somehow, they seemed far too heavy, and the idea of light getting in promised nausea.

“…her down, Mr. Darcy. I am certain she is only pretending. This is an obvious ploy to trap you into marriage.”

A woman’s voice. One that stabbed like glass shards.

“I have endured a great many attempts to trap me over the years, Miss Archer. Not a one has involved a young miss sinking unconscious to the bottom of a pool of water.”

“Which is why she must be certain of success if you do not take care, sir.” Miss Archer’s voice, for that must be who the woman was, mellowed to a purr. “I am only trying to ensure your happiness.”

“I am quite capable of ensuring my own, thank you.”

Buzzing filled Elizabeth’s head along with the throbbing, muting the world, and the even surety of Mr. Darcy’s stride soothed her. She imagined she should feel some sort of embarrassment or outrage to be in his arms, but the warm strength of him cocooned her, driving such thoughts away. Even though her head pounded and she was too tired to so much as open her eyes, in Mr. Darcy’s arms Elizabeth felt entirely safe. From physical harm. From society.

From Archers.

“I cannot believe Miss Elizabeth behaved so rashly.” Miss Archer’s voice pulled Elizabeth back from the brink of slumber. “I shudder to think of someone so reckless managing a household. Or rearing children.”

Elizabeth wanted to laugh. She wanted to assure Miss Archer that Mr. Darcy could not even identify which Bennet sister she was and had absolutely no desire to see her manage anything. Certainly, he did not want to bring children into the world with a short, indistinct brunette.

But laughter waited even further out of reach than speaking or opening her eyes, so Elizabeth permitted her mind to float free once more. After a time, Miss Archer spoke again but too much buzzing now filled Elizabeth’s head. She couldn’t make out what was said. Nor could she comprehend Mr. Darcy’s reply, but she snuggled into the bass rumble of his words in his chest, soothed and protected.

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