Page 72 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

A low whinny startled her.

Elizabeth spun toward the sound, her heart pounding.

Mr. Darcy.

And then she was falling.

Rather than strike the stone, Elizabeth managed to throw her weight toward the edge. She cleared the limestone and struck the grass below, her hands taking the first impact. Tucking her chin, she rolled across the ground before coming to a stop upon her back.

For a moment, she lay staring at the sky. Nothing hurt. She moved her head, then her arms and legs. Finding no injury, Elizabeth sat up. By then, Mr. Darcy had reached the place where she lay, dismounted, and hurried toward her. She was brushing the grass and dirt from her hands and forearms and suspected both had found their way into her hair.

He dropped beside her. “Miss Elizabeth, are you injured? Have you broken anything?”

His stricken expression compelled her to reassure him. “Sir, I am not injured.”

She held out her hands as proof. He took one and helped her to her feet.

As Elizabeth brushed the grass and dirt from her trousers, Darcy grew still. His gaze traveled over her clothing, and his expression changed to one of astonishment. Pain. Betrayal.

Her trousers.

She looked down. Had she torn them in the fall? No, her clothing was intact, so she continued brushing away the grass, hoping he would recover himself before she finished.

When she straightened, his brow remained deeply furrowed and his lips compressed.

“Mr. Darcy, are you well, sir? I have sustained no injury. I should return home before I am missed.”

His gaze left her unconventional costume and met hers. “Miss Elizabeth, such clothing is hardly proper where any man might come upon you. He might mistake you for a wanton, ma’am, and offer you insult or worse.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. She had not considered the danger.

“Sir, I assure you, I would never have come dressed thus had I not believed this place deserted at such an hour. I expected to be entirely alone and unseen.”

He made no answer, but the distress remained upon his face, so she continued.

“I run when I am at home, in the early morning along the wilds bordering my father’s estate. I have done so since I was fourteen and have never been discovered at it. Until today, sir. I meant only to run here, enjoy the sunrise, and return home to my studies.”

His expression remained troubled, almost accusing. What more could she say? She had come here alone, dressed in a manner no respectable woman would permit a gentleman to see. No explanation could alter that. The impulse to plead with him rose within her, but she restrained it and said nothing more.

He held her eyes a moment longer and then his brow relaxed. “I see.”

Elizabeth sighed, relieved as the change in his countenance eased the weight which dragged at her. Where was her watch? She searched the ground, then bent to retrieve it. At his questioning look, she opened her hand and showed him the timepiece.

“It is a quarter to eight, sir. I must leave, or I shall be late to breakfast.”

“Are you certain you can walk? You did not twist your ankle upon that stone?”

She rose onto her toes. “No, sir. I feel no pain. I must leave.”

She curtsied, he bowed, and she departed. She ran across the circle, through the causeway, and onto the path through the grass.

Elizabeth ran all the way back to the manor and did not look behind her, lest she find his displeasure following her. Her manner of dress had deeply offended him. He had warned her that a man might mistake her for a wanton.

A wanton like her little sister.

Elizabeth could not bear for Mr. Darcy to think the same of her. She had fallen in his estimation, and the thought distressed her. She determined not to wear her trousers again, or, if she did, she would keep her pelisse over her running clothes, unbuttoned so the fabric would not hinder her.

Perhaps he would not permit Georgiana to visit while the men went fishing. He might even cry off from the fishing excursion and make a complete break with her and her family.