Page 26 of Yearning

She could not take her eyes off him, and she was so very… throbby.

Oh, it was insupportable.

After all, she had rejected this man as a husband because he could not engage in amorous congress with her. So, there was no reason to find him so enticing. He could not be enticing.

Conversation at dinner turned to Mr. Darcy almost immediately.

One of the guests, a man named Mr. Kineth, seemed to have had too much to drink and not to understand anything about politeness, because he began to ask horrid questions of Mr. Darcy. “It was a horse, I understand? You were trampled by a horse?”

Mr. Darcy’s eyes met the other man’s across the table. “Yes.”

“Well, but how did it happen? Was the horse frightened or something? Was it a mount not used to you? Why would a horse so thoroughly trample a man? I hardly hear tell of such things.”

Elizabeth protested. “Certainly this is not a conversation for the dinner table.”

A few of the women agreed in sotto voce, but everyone else was looking on, wide-eyed, quite curious, as if they had all been thinking these same things and just waiting to be given the opportunity to ask.

“As it happens,” said Mr. Darcy, “I do not know. I actually have no memory of the accident.”

“None?” said Mr. Kineth. “That is rather astonishing.”

“I think it was too much for me. It was such a shocking and difficult experience, I have blanked it out.”

“I’ve heard of such things,” said Mr. Kineth. “Even so, that horse, why do you figure?”

“I’m sure Mr. Darcy doesn’t wish to speak of this,” spoke up Elizabeth, who felt as if Mr. Kineth seemed to be angling to find some way to blame Mr. Darcy for the accident, and it was not the man’s fault, and it would be horribly painful to lay that blame on him.

Darcy shrugged. “I suppose it’s like when a cherished pet dog suddenly attacks its owner. All the beasts we think we tame, they are not truly tame. It but takes one moment, and their wildness reasserts itself.”

The table was silent.

Kineth looked down at his plate, seemingly chagrined.

“I understand they put the horse down, though,” said Darcy. “I wouldn’t have countenanced such a thing if anyone had asked me. I would not have wanted the horse to pay with its life. It probably was spooked, as you say. Frightened. But who would wish to risk riding it again after it had proved so untrustworthy, I suppose.”

“Mmm,” said Kineth. He looked up, a new light in his eyes. “You have a wheeled chair.”

“I had it made,” said Darcy.

“You do not have a fake hand, however?”

“No,” said Mr. Darcy. He offered no explanation.

Kineth waited.

Mr. Darcy picked up his glass of wine with his one good hand and took a drink.

Kineth put down his head like a bull. “Why not?”

“I suppose I had not really thought about such a thing,” said Mr. Darcy.

“It seems that it would make your appearance less jarring for others,” said Kineth. “At first glance you would look more… symmetrical.”

Mr. Darcy smiled, and his smile was lopsided. “Yes, well, obviously, I have been thinking only of how my injuries affect others, Mr. Kineth.”

Mr. Kineth winced.

Mr. Darcy’s smile widened. “But you are correct, of course, I should be thinking that way. I should try not to be any more of a burden or a difficulty than I already am.”