Read Online Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 by Jennifer Lang - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Lang
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heart of hearts she did not believe it.
Mr Darcy had stirred up powerful feelings in her breast and she did not know what to do with them.
She did not know what to do about Mr Wickham, either. He had something to tell her, it seemed, and he would reveal it at the ball.
What it could be she did not know, but she was intrigued. And she felt that the Netherfield ball was going to be the most important event of her life so far.
Chapter Eight
Mr Darcy rode swiftly back to the stables at Netherfield and his horse at last clattered into the stable yard. He called to one of the grooms as he dismounted and handed the animal into the groom’s care. Then he went inside, using the side door so that his dishevelled appearance would not be remarked upon.
He was unfortunate, however, for Caroline Bingley was just inside, arranging flowers in a little-used passage that might, however, be visited by some stranger wandering in the wrong direction at the ball.
‘Mr Darcy!’ she exclaimed, looking at him in horror. ‘What happened? Are you hurt? What has befallen you?’
‘I was thrown from my horse,’ he said, making a quick but plausible excuse.
‘You should get rid of the animal at once. You could have been killed,’ said Caroline.
‘It was not the horse’s fault. A bird flew up in front of it and startled it.’
‘You are not hurt, I hope?’ she asked.
He saw her looking at his legs and knew she was thinking that he might not be able to dance.
‘No. Fortunately I landed in the river. But I am cold and wet, and if you will excuse me I must take a bath and then have something to eat before changing for the ball.’
‘Of course. I will send the servants to you at once. If there is anything else you need, I beg you will ask me. We are at your service here, all of us.’
She gave him what she hoped was a winning smile, but which looked too much like the predatory glance of a tigress for his liking. He knew that Caroline wanted him and wanted to be his wife, but he would never make her wishes come true.
The one woman he had been able to think of as his wife – despite her lowly statue - disliked him, and with good reason. But perhaps at the ball he would have a chance to make her change her opinion of him.
When first they had met, he had slighted her looks and refused to dance with her. At their second meeting he had been ill at ease and had not known what to say to her. But having been in her company several times since, even if he had not had an opportunity to speak to her, he had come to know her somewhat and to admire her more and more. Her playful character lightened his own, which tended to be too serious, and her brilliant eyes did more to please him than any number of sonatas rattled off in his honour.
But he must hurry if he was to be ready in time for the ball.
First he must get out of his wet clothes.
He continued on his way, going up the back stairs to his room so that he would not drip on the front staircase.
By the time he reached his room, he found that one of the servants was already filling the hip bath in his dressing room, pouring in jugs of hot water.
He stripped off his white shirt, which clung to him, and only relinquished its hold on the muscular curves of his chest with a struggle. He threw it on the floor and then stripped off his boots and breeches, before pulling on a dressing gown and going through to the small adjacent room, where the hot water was sending plumes of steam into the air.
The servants had finished filling the bath and he dismissed them. Then, removing his robe, he stepped gratefully into the water, sliding down into its warm embrace.
He was muddy as well as wet, and he slid right under the water so that he was fully submerged. He lay there, relaxing his muscles in the warm water as he thought over the day’s events. It had given him great satisfaction to best Wickham but he was pleased that no one had seen the unseemly struggle. It did not do for gentlemen to be
Mr Darcy had stirred up powerful feelings in her breast and she did not know what to do with them.
She did not know what to do about Mr Wickham, either. He had something to tell her, it seemed, and he would reveal it at the ball.
What it could be she did not know, but she was intrigued. And she felt that the Netherfield ball was going to be the most important event of her life so far.
Chapter Eight
Mr Darcy rode swiftly back to the stables at Netherfield and his horse at last clattered into the stable yard. He called to one of the grooms as he dismounted and handed the animal into the groom’s care. Then he went inside, using the side door so that his dishevelled appearance would not be remarked upon.
He was unfortunate, however, for Caroline Bingley was just inside, arranging flowers in a little-used passage that might, however, be visited by some stranger wandering in the wrong direction at the ball.
‘Mr Darcy!’ she exclaimed, looking at him in horror. ‘What happened? Are you hurt? What has befallen you?’
‘I was thrown from my horse,’ he said, making a quick but plausible excuse.
‘You should get rid of the animal at once. You could have been killed,’ said Caroline.
‘It was not the horse’s fault. A bird flew up in front of it and startled it.’
‘You are not hurt, I hope?’ she asked.
He saw her looking at his legs and knew she was thinking that he might not be able to dance.
‘No. Fortunately I landed in the river. But I am cold and wet, and if you will excuse me I must take a bath and then have something to eat before changing for the ball.’
‘Of course. I will send the servants to you at once. If there is anything else you need, I beg you will ask me. We are at your service here, all of us.’
She gave him what she hoped was a winning smile, but which looked too much like the predatory glance of a tigress for his liking. He knew that Caroline wanted him and wanted to be his wife, but he would never make her wishes come true.
The one woman he had been able to think of as his wife – despite her lowly statue - disliked him, and with good reason. But perhaps at the ball he would have a chance to make her change her opinion of him.
When first they had met, he had slighted her looks and refused to dance with her. At their second meeting he had been ill at ease and had not known what to say to her. But having been in her company several times since, even if he had not had an opportunity to speak to her, he had come to know her somewhat and to admire her more and more. Her playful character lightened his own, which tended to be too serious, and her brilliant eyes did more to please him than any number of sonatas rattled off in his honour.
But he must hurry if he was to be ready in time for the ball.
First he must get out of his wet clothes.
He continued on his way, going up the back stairs to his room so that he would not drip on the front staircase.
By the time he reached his room, he found that one of the servants was already filling the hip bath in his dressing room, pouring in jugs of hot water.
He stripped off his white shirt, which clung to him, and only relinquished its hold on the muscular curves of his chest with a struggle. He threw it on the floor and then stripped off his boots and breeches, before pulling on a dressing gown and going through to the small adjacent room, where the hot water was sending plumes of steam into the air.
The servants had finished filling the bath and he dismissed them. Then, removing his robe, he stepped gratefully into the water, sliding down into its warm embrace.
He was muddy as well as wet, and he slid right under the water so that he was fully submerged. He lay there, relaxing his muscles in the warm water as he thought over the day’s events. It had given him great satisfaction to best Wickham but he was pleased that no one had seen the unseemly struggle. It did not do for gentlemen to be
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