Elizabeth tilted her head and laughed, not sure whether to believe him. It was so unlike what she would have expected from Mr. Darcy, yet his face revealed genuine sincerity.

He gave her a hopeful smile. “I certainly hope this is Misty.”

Elizabeth was able to reassure him. “Rachel told me she is a grey cat with a white nose, just like this one. I do believe, Mr. Darcy, that you shall be her hero.” She brought her hand up again to scratch the cat’s forehead. Misty soon began purring. “Do you mind if I take her to Rachel? I promised her I would.”

“Certainly, but do not let Mrs. Reynolds see you with it. When she gets too close to cats her eyes and nose run, and she becomes completely bad-tempered. She thinks it is an offence to even entertain the thought of keeping an animal in the house. Make certain Miss Weber keeps the cat locked in her room. I do not want it roaming the halls. I will see to it that they get what they need for the cat.” He spoke with resolute brusqueness.

“Yes, sir,” Elizabeth said. “Is there anything else?”

Darcy closed his eyes and shook his head. “Pray forgive me, Miss Bennet. I have been barking orders all morning to ensure a smooth transition. I did not mean to…”

“You have no need to apologize, sir. You have done so much.”

She turned to leave, but Mr. Darcy called to her. “A moment, Miss Bennet. There is something else, if you would bear with me.”

“Yes?”

His eyes darkened. “You did not come to the drawing room last night.”

Elizabeth bit her lip as she determined what to say. “No, sir. I was unable to.”

“Why?” His question was uttered with the same fervency as his earlier demands had been.

Elizabeth swallowed to moisten her mouth. She could not bring herself to look up at him. “I cannot say.”

His brows lowered at this. “You will be there tonight?”

Elizabeth cast her eyes down, shaking her head slowly. “I am sorry, sir, but I cannot.”

She heard him take several breaths. “Tell me why.”

She looked up into pleading eyes. “I am… I am the Willstones’ governess. They do not deem it proper.” She saw his lips press tightly together and his jaw clench.

After a moment he said, “You are my guest, and I have invited you to join us in the drawing room.”

Elizabeth smiled, more out of unease than pleasure. “I beg to differ, sir. I am not your guest. The Willstones and Miss Matthews are your guests. I am employed as a governess to the Willstones’ daughter, and therefore I answer to them and their wishes.”

Her quick curtsey was met with a scowl. Elizabeth turned to find Rachel and return her cat to her, her heart wishing fervently that her circumstances were different.

* * *

The rains continued for the remainder of the day and night, letting up only intermittently. The next day was spent as the others had been, allowing Emily time with the Goldsmith girls and then Elizabeth working with her on her studies and music.

Throughout the day, however, a fluttering deep within intruded as Elizabeth pondered whether she would see Mr. Darcy in the north wing when she went down again today. The Willstones may have forbidden her to join the others in the drawing room in the evening, but as they were not inclined to associate with Pemberley’s tenants, she felt this was the one place she could encounter Mr. Darcy and not risk anyone’s censure if she conversed with him. But would he be there?

At length while Emily napped, Elizabeth again went down to the north wing and walked in to find very few people about. She greeted some that were in the sitting room, asking how they were faring. She looked for Rachel, but did not see her and assumed she was inside their room playing with her cat.

She spoke with a few more people and, upon discerning that there was nothing else she could do, reluctantly decided to leave. She saw neither Georgiana nor Mrs. Reynolds, but her greatest disappointment was that Mr. Darcy did not stop in.

She walked through the doors that took her to the main house and heard a commotion coming from the far end of the south hall. As she walked closer, she saw two men walk into the infirmary. Mr. Darcy walked toward her with a rather harried look upon his face. He stopped, breathing heavily from exertion.

“Mr. Darcy, is something wrong?” Elizabeth asked.

He placed his two hands firmly on her shoulders. Looking at her intently, he asked, “Do you faint at the sight of blood?”

She did not interpret his gesture as a sign of affection or his feelings. From the intense look on his face, she deemed it more a response to something that had happened. “I never have before,” she answered. “What is it?”

“Come with me,” he said, releasing her shoulders but grasping one of her hands firmly in his as he turned toward the infirmary. She had no option but to follow.

As they walked down the hall, his strides were long and hurried. To keep up with him, Elizabeth took several steps to his one. “What has happened?” she asked again.

At the sound of her voice, he seemed to relax slightly, his grip loosening and his stride slowing. Turning his head, he answered, “There has been an accident.”

When they came to the infirmary door, he stopped. He gazed down at her hand, and she thought he gave it a gentle squeeze, but kept it firmly in his. “Mr. Hamilton has been injured.”

Her eyes widened in concern, but she found it difficult to tend to his words when she was aware solely of her hand enveloped in his. “Is it… serious?”

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “He will survive. His arm and shoulder were cut by some rocks. It is messy. I have sent for a doctor, but I can use your help until he arrives.” His eyes searched hers as he waited for an answer.

“I will do what I can.”

“I know you will.” He paused and pressed his lips tightly together before continuing. “Miss Bennet, I do not want word of this spreading. There is already enough concern about our being out there.”

“I understand.” Elizabeth felt a strong reference to Rosalyn in his admonition. Her fears had come to fruition, although it had not been Mr. Darcy who injured himself, but Mr. Hamilton.

“Good.” He took in a deep breath. “Please do not think ill of me for asking you to help me with this. Many of our maidservants would not do well with this type of injury. In addition to having much more to do in caring for the tenants, I did not wish to impose on them, Mrs. Reynolds, or my sister.”

“I do not mind.”

He nodded slowly as he looked down briefly at their hands before finally releasing hers. He exhaled slowly. She felt he was going to say something and waited, looking at his face expectantly. She saw conflict in his face as he furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw. Finally, he said, “Let us go in, then.”

They waited no longer and entered the room. Mr. Hamilton was lying on the bed; a servant Elizabeth recognized from around Pemberley was pressing tightly against a cloth that extended from his upper arm to his shoulder. The servant nodded at Darcy and Elizabeth.

Hamilton peered up at them, grimacing at the movement, but it was quickly replaced by a weak smile. “Miss Bennet, have you come to nurse me back to health?”

Elizabeth walked over to him, glancing briefly at his bloodstained shirt. “I assume this was not another struggle with a fish!”

Hamilton laughed. “Unfortunately it was another rock!”

Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “What shall I do?”

He pointed to some clean, dry cloths and a basin of water. “I will need you to clean the wound. Mr. Peyton, here, is tightly applying pressure to help stop the flow.”

As she walked over to soak some cloths, she asked what happened.

“I was probably taking my horse too quickly down an embankment, and he tumbled, throwing me against some rocks.”

“Probably?” Darcy said incredulously. “You definitely were taking your horse too quickly down a mud-filled, water-laden, unstable hillside.”

“How did the horse fare?” Elizabeth asked teasingly.

“Better than me!” Hamilton said. He turned to his cousin. “I am grateful you are here, Miss Bennet, for Darcy shows me no sympathy.”

Elizabeth returned with the cloths, lifting an eyebrow at Mr. Hamilton at his comment. The servant let up pressure to allow Elizabeth the ability to cleanse the area around the gash. When he did, an excessive flow of blood poured out, causing Elizabeth to sway unsteadily. Her head began to spin when strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulders… again.

“Miss Bennet?”

“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy,” she said as she took in some deep breaths. “I did not expect it to be so…”

His face was close to hers, his eyes searching. “Pray forgive me, Miss Bennet. I should not have put you through this.”

Elizabeth waved her hand in the air. “No, no, I am well. Now.”

She took in another deep breath as she turned back to the wound and began to clean it. Her heart pounded so violently she wondered whether Mr. Darcy could hear it. He released her shoulders and walked over to a cupboard. As she saw the extent of the wound, she imagined that the doctor would be required to suture it to keep it closed.

Darcy brought over a bottle and held it over the wound. She looked up questioningly.

“Alcohol,” he said. “If you can wash away more of the blood, I will then pour this over the wound.”

They worked together well, Elizabeth savouring the close, caring presence of Mr. Darcy. While his cousin teased about how un caring Darcy was, she knew that indeed he was caring and that his cousin truly appreciated him. Darcy often looked up at Elizabeth and in quiet admiration nodded in thanks.