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It had lifted where nobody touched it. He had seen the free end bend across the other length and pass through its loop. Elizabeth’s hands had remained above him, holding what would otherwise have slipped away. There was no room in the recollection for a hidden helper or a trick of the water.

She had said yes when he asked about her hands.

Darcy closed his eyes while the valet put a dry shirt about his shoulders. He had spent his childhood hearing an old tale which his father dismissed, and his adult life dismissing it in turn whenever it was repeated. Neither fact changed what he had watched happen beside the stream.

When he was dressed, Reynolds returned with a clean dressing and told him that a man had gone for Mr. Ellis.

“The surgeon need not come from the village merely for this.”

“I have sent for him, sir.”

He looked at her. She began loosening the bloodied cloth without appearing to notice his objection.

“Has Miss Bennet gone upstairs?”

“To change her gown. I told her I would send word when you were settled.”

He ought to have thought of her wet clothes before wondering where she had gone.

“Foster?”

“In the servants’ hall. He is having something hot before he returns to the bridge.”

“Another man can take his place.”

“Hammond is arranging it.”

Darcy had no further instruction which she had not already considered. He rested his head against the chair and submitted while she washed the cut.

It hurt considerably more than he wished to admit. Reynolds gave him a folded towel to grip with his left hand and said nothing when he used it.

Charles arrived before the first dressing was finished. His face changed when he saw the ruined coat laid upon a sheet beside the door.

“Good God, Darcy.”

“I have been fortunate.”

“You have been in the river.”

“Not for long.”

“That does not improve the account.” Charles came to the chair, then looked at Reynolds as though hoping she might supply a more comforting explanation. “Jane is asking whether she may see you.”

“Of course.”

“When his hand is covered, Mr. Bingley,” Reynolds said.

Charles nodded at once. Darcy watched him look at the basin and turn away. His friend had a cheerful courage in most matters, but blood upon a cloth plainly afforded him no pleasure.

“Elizabeth found me,” Darcy said. “She sent Sally for help and secured a rope. Foster got me up the bank.”

Charles let out a breath. “Jane said Lizzy had gone down with blankets. I had no idea we must be grateful for Mrs. Bell’s laundry.”

“Nor had I.”

The absurdity helped. Charles sat long enough to be satisfied that Darcy could talk sensibly, then returned to Jane with permission to bring her when Reynolds had finished.

Charles returned with Jane, who drew a chair close enough to speak without obliging Darcy to raise his voice. Mr. Ellis came while they were there. Darcy endured another examination, a fresh dressing, and an instruction to spare his right hand until the wound had begun to close. The surgeon asked about the blow to his hip, watched him stand with assistance, and made it clear that surviving a fall did not require him to resume his usual occupations that afternoon.