"Mrs Frost," she said gently. Mr Frost clambered in, leaving a puddle of icy water in his wake. He looked pleadingly at Elizabeth, "What should I do, miss? I ain’t no apothecary."
She gave him a reassuring nod and began tearing strips from her petticoat. "Do not fear, Mr Frost. Do you have a little brandy? We will clean and bind the wound and make your wife as comfortable as possible."
"And the babe?"
"All will be well, Mr Frost," said Elizabeth with more confidence than she felt.
???
Within ten minutes, Mrs Frost was seated comfortably with a clean and bandaged wound, but she was still a worrying shade of white. The rain outside had slowed to a steady drizzle and Elizabeth climbed out to survey the damage. The problem wasclear: a patch of treacherous mud that had sent them into a small ditch to the side of the highway and caused a broken wheel. They would be stuck here for some time.
"Mr Frost," she said firmly, "it has not been two miles since we passed through Barley Cross. While we have this break in the weather, you will take a horse and your wife and get her somewhere warm and dry before sending back help. Here is some money for a room at the inn and the apothecary or midwife." She pressed some coins into his hand.
"Miss, I cannot leave you, your father would have my head." Frost removed his hat and ran a hand through his wet hair. He looked deeply unhappy.
"I shall be perfectly well," said Elizabeth. "The weather has calmed and I have blankets and books. I can lock the door and have quite a cosy time of it. It is only a few miles, I know you will send someone as soon as you can."
"I will not leave that young lady," came a weak voice from inside the carriage.
"Mrs Frost, Hetty," Elizabeth said gently, leaning into the carriage. Please think of the babe. I will not rest easy until you are well."
"Come, Hetty,"said Mr Frost from somewhere behind Elizabeth’s shoulder.
After more pleading and assurances from Elizabeth, Mr Frost unhitched the horses, helping his wife up onto one gently and mounting behind her. The others were tethered behind them and Elizabeth watched the strange caravan make slow progress down the road.
She climbed back into the carriage, sliding the bolt on the door and wrapping herself in all the blankets she could find as she settled in to await her rescue.
At first Elizabeth remained remarkably cheerful about the situation. It was only a few miles and Mr Frost knew the roads well. Within a few hours she would be sitting beside a fire somewhere telling the story as an amusing anecdote. Indeed, by the time she reached London she might even find it entertaining.
After some time, she tried to read but the light outside was too dim and the weather was getting steadily worse. Damp had already seeped into the carriage and moving around outside had seen it penetrate her clothes. Water streamed down the windows in thick sheets and the wind battered the carriage often enough to make her jump. As the rain hammered on the outside of the carriage in violent bursts she began to shiver.
She must have fallen into a fitful sleep, for when she opened her eyes again the afternoon appeared to be slipping towards evening. It was difficult to judge the hour. The storm clouds had turned the world outside an unpleasant shade of grey and thecountryside beyond the carriage windows had vanished entirely behind sheets of rain.
For the first time that day she felt genuinely uneasy. Mr Frost should have returned by now and she was shivering so hard that her teeth were chattering. She tried to dismiss the thought. Perhaps the village was farther away than they believed or the roads had become more difficult in the worsening weather.
The longer she sat there, the harder it became to ignore the creeping anxiety settling in her stomach. A violent gust of wind rocked the carriage. Elizabeth pulled the blankets tighter around herself and looked out into the storm.
Chapter Six
Darcy had intended to leave Netherfield two days earlier, but he had failed spectacularly.
First, Bingley had required his opinion on a matter concerning a dispute over repairs to one of the tenant cottages. Bingley was amiable to the point of danger in business matters and had a tendency to agree with the last person who spoke to him, which meant that Darcy could not in good conscience abandon him. Then Miss Bingley had insisted upon a farewell dinner. As far as Darcy could tell, Miss Bingley had mistaken the occasion for a siege and intended to keep him at Netherfield through a combination of rich food and persistence.
By the time he finally escaped Netherfield, he was in a temper that was not improved by a steady drizzle that quickly developed into driving rain.
Water lashed against the windows of the carriage and turned the road into a grey, shifting blur. Despite the robustness of his carriage and experience of his men, the horses made poor progress through the mud and the wheels dragged heavily through every rut. Darcy sat stiffly against the squabs, his greatcoat buttoned to the throat and his arms crossed, attempting not to think of Elizabeth Bennet.
He was failing entirely and he glared at the smudged grey landscape outside the carriage window.
Opposite him sat Burke, who had been his valet for so long that he occasionally forgot the distinction between servant and officious older brother. It was an arrangement Darcy generally tolerated until moments such as the present.
"You're going to wear a hole in that glove, sir."
Darcy glanced down at his hand and discovered he had indeed been twisting the leather at the thumb.
"I was unaware that it concerned you."
"I am the one who will have to take them for mending," said Burke. Then, after a pause, "sir" as if it were an afterthought.
