He pretended to evaluate it. “It is not a very big log.”
“It is large enough formostpeople to use without trouble.” She took a step towards it, but with one good shove from the side of his leg, it swung away from her. Now, instead of bridging the water, it laid entirely in the streambed.
“Faulty construction, I am afraid,” he said, challenging her with a look.
“I must wonder, sir, would Mrs. Reynolds withhold your biscuits for such an ungentlemanly act?” she asked him. There was a flickering flame of irritation there, but any genuine anger was done away by her mirth.
“Undoubtedly,” he said, very serious. “Alas, my arms are now longer than hers.” He shrugged, then brightened as something else occurred to him. “And I pay the cook’s wages.”
“And Mrs. Reynolds’s, I presume,” Miss Elizabeth retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I would never be so indelicate as to remind her of such a thing,” Darcy replied.
Miss Elizabeth sighed. It was a profound sigh. Then she lifted her arms.
“Very well. Convey me back. Do hurry.”
He grinned, placed his hands at her waist, and deposited her back on the other side of the water.
Darcy was very pleased. He had not planned this little interaction, but it had gone rather well.
That is, until he realised that whilst he was congratulating himself, Miss Elizabeth had walked away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the stream. He grinned to himself as he watched her depart. Whether she was walking towards him or away, he could not help but admire the view.
Elizabeth did not know what to do. Was the man flirting with her? Or was he only teasing her in the manner of an older brother? He was confusing and annoying and . . . so very handsome, especially when he smiled. She walked on, leaving him standing in the middle of the stream because she required a moment alone to relish the feel of his hands on her waist. They were so large they nearly encircled her, and this time she was not falling over with weariness. She shivered a little, and not at all from the cold.
It was a short walk from the stream to the Todds’ cottage, and Elizabeth pulled herself together. She heard Mr. Darcy’s footsteps behind her, and she turned to give him a smile. “I shall be out shortly,” she said, and he nodded. She reached out for the basket, which he handed over.
“Do call if you require my assistance,” he told her.
It was dark inside the cottage. The fire was low. Molly was huddled beneath a heavy quilt that Jane had found for her. An older girl, perhaps fourteen, was attempting to get her to take some broth. Little Nora was playing on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Good day, ladies,” Elizabeth said brightly. “May I come inside?”
Nora cried something unintelligible, but Elizabeth surmised she was asking for a treat.
“I do have something for you,” she told the little girl. “But you must wait for your papa to come home so you may share it with him.”
Nora hopped up and down in a little dance. “Cake! Cake! Cake!”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I see you remember me. Alas, calling for your sweets will not make them arrive any sooner.”
The tiny girl eyed her sadly.
“I do have something else for you.” Elizabeth stuck her hand into the basket and removed a little rag doll Mary had sewn. “My sister Miss Mary thought you might like this dolly,” she said.
Nora’s blue eyes opened so wide that they looked like full moons. Elizabeth set the basket on the table and crouched to hold out the toy. Two tiny hands took the doll. Nora crushed her to her chest. “Baby!” she cried. “Nora baby!”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “That is Nora’s baby.” She walked to the bed. “I have one for you as well, Molly.” She sat across from the young girl who was trying to feed her patient. “I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she whispered.
“I am Lucy,” the girl whispered back. “Thank you for coming, Miss Elizabeth. Molly doesn’t seem to be improvin’, and I dinna know what to do.”
“Poor girl,” Elizabeth said, running a hand over Molly’s forehead. Warm, not hot. There was a whistling sound when she breathed. “Have you tried steam?”
Lucy shook her head. Elizabeth stoked the fire, heated a small pot of water, then poured it into a bowl. “You will want to fill this larger pot and leave it to boil.” Lucy nodded. “Help Molly sit up.” She handed Lucy a cloth. “Have her put her face above the bowl and drape the cloth over her head to hold in the heat.”
Elizabeth held the bowl steady. “Take deep breaths, Molly,” she said. It would make the girl breathe easier for a time, but it would not last. Still, after a quarter of an hour, Molly was able to sit up against her pillows and take some broth. Elizabeth was reminded of Jane in her bedchamber, well cared for, pampered, and she wished with all her heart that Molly might have the same. Unlike Jane’s injuries, Molly’s illness was not going to improve. Not much, in any case.
She handed Molly her doll, and the girl’s arm curled around it before she promptly fell asleep.