Jane only gaped at the dashing fellow, whose dark curls hung askance in his face after his daring rescue. Elizabeth smiled between the gentleman, the old woman, and a young lady who was clearly her daughter. “We owe you our warmest thanks – my sister and I were wool-gathering and not at all conscious of our surroundings.”
The gentleman still held Jane by the elbows, for she had shed a few tears in the chaos of their near-calamity. He stared silently at her, in the way that men often did. Elizabeth pursed her lips as she smiled, hoping that her sister would take heart from the handsome stranger’s evident admiration, after the cruelty they had just endured.
“And after I promised our chaperone that we would return home safely,” Elizabeth said with a rueful laugh. “You have our thanks, sir.”
He did not look away from Jane, but the young lady bounced forward and introduced herself to Elizabeth. “I am Sophia Hatchard. My brother John is too distracted for introductions, it seems.” She gave a playful wink.
“Elizabeth Bennet, and my sister Jane – she has a terrible megrim at present, and we ought to be going.” Elizabeth glanced over at her sister, who was murmuring softly to the gentleman, who leaned forward to hear her. It nearly appeared as if he was enjoying the scent of Jane’s hair, which she had washed in rose water that morning.
Elizabeth glanced back at the girl, who appeared about the same age as Lydia. “Hatchard – like the bookstore?”
“It is my late second husband’s establishment,” the older woman said with a proud but friendly smile. “I cannot recall ever seeing you there before.”
“We just arrived from Hertfordshire a few days ago, but Jane and I have been wishing to visit, though I fear I shall spend a sum my other sisters would ridicule.”
“We are going there now,” Miss Hatchard said with a laugh. “John has been handling the bookkeeping since we lost Papa in October. Would you like to come with us? We just received a new shipment of novels – do you like novels?”
The gentleman finally looked their way, helping Jane walk as she returned to Elizabeth’s side. “What is this of novels? Such a scene as this certainly puts one in mind of novels, though I vastly prefer poetry – odes to beauty also come to mind. But at present I can think only of making myself useful. I fear I was too hasty in pulling you from the path of that carriage, and this fair creature had sprained her ankle.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister in horror. Jane still clung to the gentleman. Miss Hatchard gasped. “I wondered why Miss Bennet was weeping! Oh dear! John, we must help them.”
Jane wiped at her face, and the gentleman swiftly offered her a handkerchief embroidered with the initials JW. Jane dabbed at her face and let out a low whimper. “I ought to have gone back and retrieved my reticule! We would not have been crossing the lane at that moment if only I had gone back for it.”
“Your reticule! Where have you left it?”
“With some acquaintance we called upon, whom we are not likely to see again,” Elizabeth said. She would have to ask one of Mrs. Jennings’s servants to collect it when they returned home.
“What an unlucky day you are having,” he tutted. “And where do you reside? I shall walk you home – I believe your sister and I can support you tolerably well – and then I shall personally retrieve your misplaced reticule, and return with yourproperty and a physician to examine you. What do you say to that?”
Jane smiled through her tears. “You are very kind, Mr….”
At the same moment, Miss Hatchard clapped her hands. “How gallant of you, John! Mamma and I will go on to the shop, and wait for you there.”
Mrs. Hatchard shook her head and swatted at her daughter. “We will accompany them for the sake of propriety, you silly kitten!”
Elizabeth smiled gratefully at the widow, bemused by the girl’s exuberance. “We do not have far to go – indeed, we are within sight of the house already. It is the white stone house with the blue door, just there. Thank you for your kind assistance.”
She took one of Jane’s arms, and the gentleman supported her from the other side. They were a bit of a shambles, but they managed to aid Jane in keeping the weight off her injured ankles as they made slow progress up the lane. Their attention remained fixed on her until they reached Mrs. Jennings’s townhouse, and then the gentleman lifted Jane into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all, and carried her up the front steps. The housekeeper was in high alarm at the spectacle they presented as they entered the house, and fluttered about as Jane’s rescuer lowered her onto a sofa by the window in the parlor.
Mrs. Hatchard very sensibly approached the housekeeper and began to give orders, requesting headache powders, a small quantity of ice, a hot brick, and several soft towels. “You will want to wrap the hot brick and the ice each in separate towels. Begin with the ice, laying it gently on the swollen ankle,” she said, eyeing her son sharply.
He pulled Jane’s skirt back just a few inches and removed her shoe before slowly turning her foot one way and then theother, watching for her reactions. “It is sprained, but not broken. After a half hour of ice, apply the warm towel. Alternating between the heat and the cold will speed up the healing – an old family remedy.”
Jane nodded rather dazedly. “Thank you.”
He nodded, then called for a footman and dispatched the lad to fetch his own personal physician. “We ought not tarry, nor would I intrude any further when you are afflicted with a megrim. I will retrieve your reticule, if you will tell me where it might be recovered, and I shall leave it with your housekeeper.”
“The Hurst residence, number thirty-eight, Hanover Square,” Elizabeth supplied, allowing Jane to squeeze her hand as the ice was applied to her ankle.
Their rescuer took his leave, promising to return with the hope of hearing of Jane’s recovery in a few days’ time. His mother offered Elizabeth her card and encouraged her to visit Hatchard’s soon, a sentiment which Miss Hatchard enthusiastically echoed.
It was only after they had gone that Jane realized she had not learned her savior’s name. She ran her fingers curiously over the handkerchief he had given her. “If his initials are JW, he cannot be called Mr. Hatchard. I did not think to inquire.”
“Not I – we were fearfully distracted. Oh, Jane!” Elizabeth commiserated with her sister until Mrs. Jennings returned and lamented over her guest’s misfortunes.
“Miss Bennet, what a dreadful calamity! Oh, I blame myself – I ought to have come home with you after those dreadful women snubbed you and fawned so deliberately over Lucy! She is a good girl, to be sure, but you are both just as worthy as she, and of longer acquaintance! I have never seen such shocking rudeness, it is they who ought to have sprainedtheir ankles, the harridans! But tell me more of this gentleman who rescued you!”
Jane scarcely appeared to feel the pain of her ankle, and indeed her spirits seemed entirely recovered as she told Miss Jennings of the handsome, solicitous gentleman who had saved them from a far greater calamity, escorted them home, and returned her reticule, sparing her that indignity. The reticule had been delivered to the housekeeper, and inside of it had been a single pink rose, which Jane brought to her nose with a wide smile.
