A Happy Accident Read online

  A Happy Accident

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Amelia Wood

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  1

  Elizabeth climbed onto the highest peak and took a deep breath. The Derbyshire countryside spread before her, far wilder than the gentle landscape of her own Hertfordshire. In the distance, Elizabeth could see Pemberley. A chill ran through her as she looked at the grand house which, despite the grandeur around her, could not help but catch her eye.

  She might have been mistress of Pemberley if she had given its master, Mr Darcy, a different answer all those weeks ago. This country might have been intimately familiar to her already. She might have walked the halls of that house as her own. It was a strange idea.

  But there was no room for regrets. Mr Darcy should never have suited her as a husband. Even if she had been wrong about his behaviour towards Wickham and his interference between the match of his friend, Bingley, and Elizabeth’s sister, Jane, it did nothing to change the fact that he was still a proud, disagreeable man. He would never have allowed Elizabeth to forget the inferiority of her connections or welcomed her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to Pemberley, even though they were among her dearest connections. Her aunt and uncle would only be allowed see the house as visitors on a tour as they would do tomorrow, but Mr Darcy would never have acknowledged them as family. Recollections like this were fortunate for Elizabeth to have as they spared her from something like regret.

  But they did not prevent her from feeling a significant pang whenever she thought of the cold way she had rejected Darcy. She had taken great delight in thwarting his pride and making him understand how little she liked him. It was a cruel rejection to a man who had offered her his heart and his hand and who loved her so well, he was willing to overcome his pride and ask her to be his wife. Elizabeth could not be entirely insensible to the honour he had done her. And now that she understood she had been wrong about his actions, she felt ashamed of her cruelty. She had misjudged him in so many ways; was it possible she had misjudged his pride as well?

  No, there she was right. She had not misunderstood the way Darcy refused to befriend the people of Meryton. She had not misheard when he refused to dance with her because he did not find her handsome enough. And she certainly had not been wrong when he told her how it had taken him time to overcome the inferiority of her connections and how he could not have been expected to rejoice in them. Wrong she might have been in other ways, but when it came to his character, she was satisfied she understood him perfectly.

  The sun was beginning to sink in the sky. Elizabeth gazed at the golds and pinks with a regretful sigh. There was still plenty of daylight left but she would need it for the five miles she needed to walk back to Lambton over the fields. If she was not to be caught out in the dark, she would need to leave now.

  Elizabeth gingerly climbed down the slopes. It was not easy to do in a long gown, but fortunately, she was accustomed to climbing. Still, she would need to be careful. If she took a tumble and sprained her ankle, she would be in dire straits so far from the town while her aunt and uncle had no idea where she was.

  A track ran along the edge of the peak. It seemed to lead downwards towards Pemberley. Hopefully from there, she could make her way to the fields that would lead her towards Lambton. There was a steep drop on the other side, but Elizabeth could manage that well enough. She landed on the track with a satisfied thump and began walking towards Pemberley, trying to keep her thoughts away from the future she had rejected so coldly.

  The thunder of hoof beats came behind her, coming closer and closer. Elizabeth pulled her mind from her thoughts to see who was coming. Whoever they were, they seemed in a great hurry.

  A chestnut stallion galloped around the bend, coming into her view. A tall man leaned low over the saddle as the horse raced around the bend. The man saw her just as she saw him. He reigned in his horse at once then turned to look at her. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock as she gaped at the face she thought never to see again.

  “Mr Darcy,” she gasped. In a whirl of confusion, she turned to walk away from him. In her haste, she missed her footing. Her fingers closed over empty air as she felt the ground disappear from under her. She thought she heard an anguished voice call her name before everything went silent.

  2

  Darcy threw himself from the saddle, his stomach rolling with horror.

  “Elizabeth!” he shouted. He ran to the edge of the cliff, trying to prepare himself for the horror he was sure he was about to see.

  Elizabeth lay on a little ledge some feet below. She lay on her back, her head turned to the side, her eyes closed. Darcy felt as though he would be ill. He threw the reins to one side as he scrambled over the edge. His feet slipped and slid as he attempted to navigate the steep slope.

  “I am here, Elizabeth,” he said over and over again. He could hardly bring himself to take his eyes from her to watch his footing. Elizabeth’s face was pale and still. Darcy could hardly bring himself to contemplate what that might mean.

  No, she could not be dead. His Elizabeth with her sparkling eyes, vibrant with life and playfulness, could not lie dead on the side of an indifferent cliff. Darcy could not contemplate a world that would allow such a thing to happen.

  Finally, he reached the ledge where she lay. He dropped to his knees beside her, almost afraid to touch her.

  “Elizabeth,” he said again. Her eyes remained closed. He braced himself and pressed a finger to her neck. If there was any flicker of life there, it was so faint he could not detect it. Darcy choked back a sob. He looked at the spencer she wore over her gown. Without hesitation, he ripped it open so only a thin layer of muslin lay between him and Elizabeth’s chest. He pressed his ear there, digging his fingers into the grass beside him as he muttered a prayer that he would find what he wanted to hear more than anything else in the world.

  A steady beat resounded in his ears. Her chest rose and fell beneath him. The rush of relief was so intense, it almost crippled Darcy. He pressed his face against her as the emotions overcame him, pulling her to him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead without realising he was doing it as he gave thanks over and over again that his Elizabeth was alive.

  “I am so sorry, my love,” he said. “I have brought you nothing but pain, have I not?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes remained closed. Darcy removed his coat and wrapped it around her. He looked up at the slope he had just climbed with apprehension. It had been hard enough to climb down. How on earth was he to get back up there with Elizabeth in his arms?

  Darcy gently lifted Elizabeth over his shoulder. He grasped the tufts of grass in the side of the slope, praying desperately that they were deep rooted enough to support them both. He paused at each step to satisfy himself that Elizabeth was not being harmed by his clumsy movements. All the while, he spoke to her continuously.

  “Nearly there, my love. You are safe now. Not too much further to go.”

  The top started to come into view. As Darcy braced himself against a rock, his foot suddenly slipped on slimy green moss. He instinctively loosened his hands to catch his fall and almost lost Elizabeth as he slid down se
veral feet. He caught his balance again, and paused for a moment, his heart pounding with fright at the thought of almost losing her. He lay her on a narrow ledge for a moment to recover his strength. As he did so, he checked her over for injuries. He had not harmed her. She still only had the same cuts and bruises from the fall. Darcy held her on his lap and kissed her temple.

  “I love you,” he whispered. He stroked her face.

  Elizabeth’s eyes flicked open. Darcy froze, his hand still against her cheek as those dark eyes fixed on him.

  “Where am I?” she murmured.

  “You had an accident,” he said softly. “You took a fall. But there is nothing to be afraid of. I will have you home soon.”

  “Mmmm.” Elizabeth’s eyes flickered closed again. Darcy listened but her breathing was regular and she did not open her eyes again. After a few more moments, he lifted her into his arms once again and began the climb.

  The sight of Elizabeth opening her eyes seemed to give Darcy a surge of energy. He was more determined than ever as his hands reached for the next stone or branch or tuft that could allow him to pull himself higher. The sun was sinking when he finally was able to lay Elizabeth over the top and climb up after her. He pulled her onto his lap and listened to her breathing again. It was deep and steady. He whispered her name, hoping to see her eyes open again but they remained closed.

  But she was alive. Nothing was broken. She had opened her eyes and that was the important thing.

  Until another thought came to Darcy. He recalled his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, speaking of men who were injured in battle. At times, the men seemed to come through and were alert and speaking again, to the point of rejoicing in their recovery. Only for them to subside quickly. It was as though they had one last surge of life before death claimed them. The thought made Darcy grow cold. No, he could not allow that to happen. His Elizabeth would not die. He would not accept it.

  “Come, my love,” he murmured. He lifted her up into his arms. His stallion had trotted further down the lane and was currently munching on the sparse grass. Darcy whistled to him. The horse raised his head and trotted towards him. The horse was a spirited, skittish sort. Darcy had been taking a chance even by bringing him along such a lane. He was relatively new and Darcy wished him to grow accustomed to the often steep slopes around Pemberley. But could the high-spirited animal be trusted to carry the most precious passenger in all the world?

  Darcy grasped the reins with one hand. The horse shied as he tried to lift Elizabeth up onto the saddle.

  “Gentle, Spark, gently,” said Darcy. The horse sidled again and Darcy grasped Elizabeth back against him. If Spark bolted, he could not risk Elizabeth. Darcy looked down at the faint outline of Pemberley he could see in the falling twilight. Desperate as he was to have Elizabeth seen to as soon as possible, he could not risk her. He would have to walk there and carry her.

  The way was treacherous with a spirited horse to lead and an injured beloved to carry. Night was falling rapidly which meant Darcy had to watch every step he took. He looked down at Elizabeth’s still face as he spoke to her softly. He did not know if she could hear him, but surely she could not? Not when she was so still and pale? So he spoke freely of his love for her. Of how important she was to him and how much she meant to him. He poured his heart out, his reserve completely shunted to one side.

  “You mean more to me than anything else in the world,” he said softly as he shifted her in his arms to begin the walk through the woods. “I would give up everything for you. I have been lost without you. I cannot contemplate a world without you in it, even if I cannot be with you. So please, Elizabeth, recover. Do not leave the rest of us poor wretches to struggle on without you.”

  More than once, he stopped and placed Elizabeth gently on the ground so he could listen to her breathing and reassure himself she still lived. The thought of reaching Pemberley in triumph only to realise Elizabeth had died unnoticed tormented him and gave him no peace. Each time, he relaxed to feel her breathing. Her gown was torn from her fall and he had forgotten to replace her spencer when he opened it but she still wore his coat. But even with the heavy wool around her, she felt cold. Her skin was gradually growing cooler. Darcy picked up his pace, pulling Spark along beside him. If only he had taken more time to train the wretched animal. But he had wallowed in pity for the past few weeks since Elizabeth had rejected him and he did not feel fit for anything. He had turned the animal over to grooms but they had their hands full with their other charges and could not give him the attention he needed. If Darcy had taken the time to train him, he would have Elizabeth back at Pemberley already.

  3

  Darcy finally emerged through the trees. Across the park, he saw the lamps in Pemberley’s windows. The sight renewed his energy. He hurried across the grounds, seeing the house grow closer and closer. A figure appeared on the doorstep. Darcy cried out to them. Whoever they were, they turned towards the house to call someone and then hurried down the steps towards them. As they grew closer, Darcy observed the figure of his housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds.

  “Sir,” she cried. “What has happened? Are you hurt?”

  “Not me, Mrs Reynolds. We must get Miss Bennet inside at once. Send for Mason. He must be here directly.”

  “Of course, sir.” Mrs Reynolds took one distracted look at Elizabeth and then hurried across the lawn, just as footmen ran out of the house. She waved her hands towards Darcy and they hurried across the lawn to meet him.

  “No, no.” Darcy waved them away as one of them offered to take Elizabeth. “I will carry her. Just see that Mason is here. He must come at once. Wherever he is, he must be here with Elizabeth.”

  The footmen exchanged looks at the master’s informal address but they obeyed. One of them ran back towards the house and around to the stables as another took charge of Spark. Moments later, a groom galloped down the drive.

  “This way, sir,” said Mrs Reynolds when Darcy finally reached the house. “The rooms are prepared so we might take her to any one you prefer.”

  “Take her to the yellow room.”

  Mrs Reynolds stilled for a moment.

  “The yellow room, sir? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am sure,” said Darcy with impatience. “I can care for her best there. Come, we do not have time to waste.”

  Without waiting for Mrs Reynolds to lead the way with the lamp, Darcy started towards the stairs. Mrs Reynolds hurried ahead of him and opened the door to the room in question, though she looked troubled.

  Darcy moved past her and carried Elizabeth to the bed. He lay her there gently and leaned back to examine her. He leaned his head against her chest again then looked up to stroke her forehead.

  “Can you hear me, Elizabeth?” he asked. No response. He looked at his housekeeper.

  “Water. Fire and blankets,” he ordered.

  “I have already sent for them, sir. They are almost here.” Mrs Reynolds looked behind her then stood back as maids entered the room with the objects Darcy wanted. One of them knelt in the grate to light the fire. All of them exchanged looks as they glanced at Elizabeth.

  “Are you sure you wish the young lady to be in the mistress’s suites, sir?” Mrs Reynolds asked after she had ordered them to leave. “The house will be rife with gossip at your choice.”

  “I do not care what anyone says,” said Darcy. He barely spared her a glance. “I want Miss Bennet close to me where I can attend her. I do not wish to leave her out of my sight.”

  “But surely…”

  “I will not hear another word about it,” Darcy snapped with such ferocity that Mrs Reynolds stepped back in astonishment. Darcy froze then sighed and pressed a hand against his eyes to fight back the exhaustion he could feel trying to claim him. “Forgive me, Mrs Reynolds. If you had seen what I saw, you would not allow her out of your sight either. I am sorry.”

  “It is quite alright, sir,” said the housekeeper. She swallowed. “You must be dreadfully upset to speak in such a mann
er. I believe it is the first time I have heard a cross word from you and I have known you since you were four years old.”

  Darcy nodded. He put out a distracted hand to squeeze her arm, not taking his eyes from Elizabeth.

  “May I ask, sir; do you know the young lady?”

  “I do,” said Darcy. “Very well.”

  Mrs Reynolds looked at him, her lips bubbling with questions but she pressed them shut.

  “I will go and see if Mr Mason is almost here.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Reynolds.”

  Mrs Reynolds paused at the door and looked back. Darcy was kneeling beside the bed, holding the young lady’s hand to his lips as he watched her with anxious eyes. The master in love at last. Who would ever have thought it?

  Darcy did not take his eyes from Elizabeth until he heard the rush of feet coming up the stairs. He kept Elizabeth’s cool hands clasped in his as he looked towards the door, desperate to see Mason.

  A footman entered.

  “Mason is delayed, sir.”

  Darcy groaned and swore.

  “Where is he? Did you not impress him with the vital importance of his being here?”

  “I did, sir. He is attending Mr Stokes. They believe he is in his final hours.”

  Darcy had to fight back another curse as his concern with Elizabeth almost overcame his own decency.

  “That cannot be helped,” he said in a flat voice. “I will send whatever I can to the Stokes to help them. But has Mason given any instructions?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the footman. “He said to clean the lady’s wounds and keep her warm. He said she may be able to hear you so speak to her as much as you can to encourage her to come back. And make sure she is comfortable.” The footman glanced uneasily around the lavish room kept for the mistress of Pemberley.