Elizabeth almost laughed, but instead, nodded sagely. “He did indeed. Papa sent him to check the road to Longbourn, but when he found us all, he climbed down that muddy incline in his expensive boots and spoke amiably to poor Mr. Tobias as he prepared the man to be moved. I presume because he is the slightest of them and the earth there was still unstable. Still, I do not believe he hesitated to be of use, and he was very kind to Mr. Tobias.” She patted Jane’s hand. “I give you leave to like him.”
Her sister laughed softly. “Oh, Lizzy,” she sighed. “I am so thankful that everyone will be well.”
“I know you are, dearest,” Elizabeth assured her. “I know you are.”
Darcy was aggravated. His hand prevented him from doing much more than supervising the men who accomplished the real work. Mr. Hill had arrived at his chamber door with willow bark tea this morning, but the effects of the bitter drink were wearing off and his hand was paining him. He had been wearing dinner gloves the night before and had stripped the useless things off as he worked to secure the second rope to the tree. He ought to have taken his working gloves from the saddlebag, but he had been in a hurry. To be made useless by such a little thing!
He allowed his gaze to traverse the length of the carriage. The windows were all broken, the paint was marred, and the traces had snapped clean away.
He could not help but gaze down the slope and note how much steeper it appeared in the daylight. Between the remaining five trees at the edge of the slope was a clear view of the swollen river below. Miss Bennet had been very fortunate indeed, for the space that separated one tree from the next was nearly too wide to have been any use to her last night.
“Even grimmer in the daylight, is it not?” Bennet asked as he approached.
“We were fortunate the carriage fell where it did.”
Bennet shook his head ruefully. “We were fortunate that my second eldest is so headstrong. We are blessed that her stubbornness did not get her killed.”
Darcy shrugged. “I would describe her as tenacious.”
“Would you, now?” The older man assessed him shrewdly before sighing. “It infuriated me when she slipped her line over her head.”
“Had Miss Elizabeth not refused to be dragged away,” Darcy replied in her defence, “the coach would still have slipped over the ledge, and Miss Bennet would either have fallen through one of the broken windows or upset the balance of the carriage and sent both herself and it into the ravine.”
Bennet winced.
Darcy grunted. Curse his tongue. “My words were unreasonably harsh, Bennet. I must ask your pardon.”
“No,” Bennet said sternly. “You are right, of course.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I am not truly angry with Elizabeth for rushing to assist Jane. I am angry that the task was foisted upon her. They are my children. It ismyjob to see to their welfare.”
“If I may . . .” Darcy said haltingly.
Bennet nodded.
“You should be proud that you have raised a daughter who is capable enough to step in when you are not with her.”
The old man smiled. “Daughters.” His gaze was far away. “I know Jane would have done the same were the positions reversed. The difference is that Lizzy has both the superior strength and the quicker wit in an emergency.”
Fitzwilliam strolled over. “One of the front wheels is badly bent, Bennet,” he said. “It will not roll to town. We will have to raise the coach and put it on the wagon.”
They both walked back with Fitzwilliam to where the men were working. A slight boy scrambled up into a tree to position the pulleys from Darcy’s saddlebags, and Bingley tossed the ropes up to him.
Darcy watched them work, uneasy that he was not the one in charge. Bennet spoke again, diverting his attention.
“At this rate, only the interior will be worth saving,” Bennet said with a sigh. “I may have to construct an entirely new conveyance. Laramie,” he called, and a lanky youth trotted over. “Once we have the carcass loaded, drive it to Jensen’s.”
Laramie nodded and stepped back to his position.
“You have a coach-maker here?” Bingley asked curiously. “I have not seen his shop.”
Bennet nodded. “Jensen makes barrels, furniture, anything one might require, but repairing coaches is what he does best. He built one new last year for a family over in Hertford, and his work was excellent. I considered ordering one myself, but as this one was still perfectly serviceable, I decided it was an extravagance I could do without. Now might be the time.”
“Not to mention you shall not have to wait six months for it to be completed, as you would in London,” Bingley added.
“Indeed. Winter is coming. I cannot be without a carriage.”
“I have several of my great-uncle’s carriages sitting unused at Pemberley,” Darcy said quietly. “You are welcome to the use of one for however long it takes to repair yours.”
“That is a generous offer, Darcy,” Bennet replied, “but it is quite a long journey from Derbyshire. Let us wait and see.”