A/N: In 2017, I was chased off this site by Critics United and my personal life was falling apart that ultimate ended in a divorce and cross-country move. It's 2019 and the 5 year anniversary of this story, The Trouble with Horses, so I think it's very fitting to celebrate by posting it here. This was the first story idea I published in JAFF, and I just published #20 in May. Here's to 20 more! Oh, and if some silly group on here wants to threaten me for posting FREE STORIES, I say go find something better to do. We're going to post regardless. -EAW

Chapter 1

A riderless black stallion interrupted Elizabeth Bennet's quiet reflection in the rudest manner. Atop her favorite prospect, Oakham Mount, she watched the horse burst through the woods on the south side and jaunt up the hill. Frowning, Elizabeth made a most uncharacteristic move — she jumped into the path of the beast!

"WHOA! WHOA!"

The midnight inked horse startled at the sudden presence of a human in its path. Years of training won out, and the animal stopped before the diminutive woman. Elizabeth's head barely rose above the great horse's muzzle, but she held up her hand for the animal to sniff.

Stroking his nose, Elizabeth reached with her left hand to grab the loose reins. The stallion stomped his front feet impatiently, and Elizabeth continued her calming ministrations.

"I take it you too escaped from an unpleasant task? No?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the horse, thinking about her own escape from Longbourn, her family's ancestral manor just below and to the east. That very evening was to be the local assembly. Possessing five unmarried daughters, her mother bellowed commands with her full-fledged nervousness over the girls' preparations. Elizabeth had been instructed to rest, but instead used a distraction in the parlor to slip out the back door usually reserved for servant use.

The horse snorted heavily into Elizabeth's hand. She gave him one last pat. "No matter how necessary the escape, we must not completely dismiss our duties, hm? You should have a rider upon you, and yet, no rider do I see."

The horse shook his head just as Elizabeth began to walk him in the direction of her home. With a strong pull, the horse's neck reached away to guide Elizabeth down the hill in the opposite direction, nearly the path on which he came. Elizabeth laughed at the stubborn nature of the animal and continued her one-sided conversation.

"We shall go back down this hill, into those woods, and find your master. And don't be sullen about it, I'll be sure to put in a good word for you."

It was slow going through the thickest parts of the trail as Elizabeth half led, half followed the animal's intentions with the hope he was leading her to his rider. After a quarter-hour, she began to question the wisdom of searching the woods on her own as they were now a good distance from the main trail. She wondered if she shouldn't turn back and lead the horse to her own home to let her father continue the search. Just as she mentally scolded herself and resolved to turn back, an odd sound came from the copse of trees to her left.

She clicked her tongue to entice the horse to follow her towards the noise, carefully stepping over a rather thick log. The horse began to fight against Elizabeth's attempts to steer him towards the sound, and she had to reassess the situation. She was reasonably confident the sound she heard was a human moan, but if the horse refused to cooperate, she knew she was far out of her league to demand compliance. Another moan inspired her to act.

"As you can't be counted on to accompany me, you will stay here." Elizabeth wrapped the reins around a low-lying branch, leaving enough slack for the horse to reach his head to the ground. Within moments, he began sniffing the forest floor. Looking around her, Elizabeth searched for a tool she hoped she wouldn't need, but found a suitable candidate not far from the large tree where she tied the horse. Gingerly, she rolled the thick stick over with her foot, then picked it up once she saw the underside lacked any infestation.

Glancing one last time at the horse over her shoulder, Elizabeth took a deep breath and braved the thicket of shrubs and thorns between her and what she prayed was the missing rider. Pushing through about four feet, and hearing the moans more clearly now, she nearly tumbled down a small embankment to a stream bed when the brush ended rather abruptly. Catching her balance with her walking stick, she spied below her a man dressed in the finest clothing but most unnaturally twisted. To the casual observer, he might appear dead if not for the occasionally labored movement of his limbs and anguished face. Blinking her eyes, Elizabeth heard the sounds of his discomfort through a distinctive chorus of hisses. Tiny snakes slithered on the ground around him and one, large snake lay very near to his right arm.

"Heavens!" Elizabeth didn't think twice before she took a step and slid down the embankment with the forest tromping skills of her wayward youth. Mud caked to her skirts and ruined her walking shoes.

"Move, move! Shoo!" Elizabeth deftly used the stick to push some of the smaller snakes out of the way, animals far too young to cause her harm. The larger snake, upon sensing a new threat, coiled beside the man preparing to strike.

Staring at the snake, she immediately recognized as a viper, adrenaline ran through her body and made standing still very difficult. Her arms and legs twitched from her own fear, and she swallowed in preparation for an attack. Although not usually fatal, she knew too many bites from the snake could kill the man lying helpless in the dirt before her.

The snake hissed with each breath swelling its body and then deflating back to normal size. Elizabeth began making more noise and flicking dirt at the snake.

"Go on! Go on! Get out of here!" She reached down and picked up a small rock, chucking it at the viper. It bounced off the man's arm, making him move his limb once more, and the snake bit his hand in response. This time he cried out, and Elizabeth flinched. Seeing the snake bite made her do something she hadn't for over a decade. In a flash, she shouted and reached her arm forward, grasped the snake near its tail and pulled as hard as she could, flinging it in an arc away from both her and the man.

She watched as the creature soared through the air and landed with a thud over on the other bank. The snake was still for a moment, then began slithering away from the water. She released a breath of relief and thought it unlikely the snake would swim across the shallow stream right away back to its nest.

Her heart racing, Elizabeth kneeled down by the man unsure of what to do. She didn't recognize him, though his fine linen shirt and breeches, not to mention the magnificent horse still tied to a tree above her, made her conclude he was a wealthy gentleman.

"Sir! SIR! You must wake up now, sir!" Elizabeth yelled at the poor man, eliciting only a brief eye flutter or two from her patient. Exasperated, she let out another cry of frustration and began pacing the soft ground around her. She couldn't leave him here, practically lying atop a viper nest. Surely the babies and mother snake would be back soon. But how was she to move a full-grown, unconscious man?

Looking back at her trusty stick, she tested her weight against it in an attempt to break it. The rod bowed slightly but didn't break. Frustrated with her futile plan, she stomped her foot on the soft bank, aggravated as she reasoned even if she could collect enough sticks to make a litter, it would be dark before she'd finish constructing one and there was no way she could carry the man, nor drag him, up the bank and out of the forest. Laughter bubbled up inside as her conundrum grew more and more frustrating.

After a few minutes of fruitless thoughts, Elizabeth decided to try again to rouse the man, only to meet the same results. His right hand was swelling most alarmingly, and she immediately felt guilty. Without being able to rouse him, nor see the full extent of his injuries, she'd hate to cause worse harm to him as she did when fighting off the snake. It appeared that his coat protected him from most of the snake's attempts to bite, but the one on his hand made her realize she was running out of time to prevent permanent injury.

Finally, an idea dawned on her as she was viewing his toned legs for signs of broken bones. The horse! But oh! She hated to ride and never truly mastered the skill like her older sister Jane. Looking at the poor man below her, she steeled her inner emotions of fear to choose courageous behavior. If she was willing to fight off snakes for him, how on earth would she tell her father she was too afraid to mount a horse to raise the alarm for help?

Resolved to her action, Elizabeth knelt beside the man to speak to him in a clear voice. "Sir? I'm Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You've fallen, and I'm going to go get help. Sir?" She tried one last time to wake him, but still to no avail. She even reached down and touched his cheek, something she had never done to any man let alone a complete stranger and was cheered to feel that it was still warm.

Elizabeth took one last look around to make sure the immediate threats were truly gone and prayed they would remain so until she could return. After scrambling up the bank, she found the horse exactly where she had left him, except he looked twice as big as she remembered now that she was to ride him.

Taking a deep breath, she untied the horse and looked him in the eyes. "Listen, I saved your master, but he's still in danger. We're going to rescue him together? Agreed?" she asked sternly, though who she was convincing more, herself or the horse, she couldn't say.

The horse, of course, said nothing and stared back at her with dark, glassy eyes. Elizabeth forced a smile as she ignored her body beginning to tremble, suddenly feeling a chill run over her skin. Walking to the horse's side and seeing the saddle was so high up, she wasn't sure even if she placed her foot in the stirrup, she'd be able to pull herself up. The horse began to move impatiently as she worked out how to mount.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Elizabeth gently patted his neck. "I don't like this either, but there is no other way. Now be still."

Shrugging, Elizabeth led the horse over to the log and used it as a natural mounting box. She placed her left foot awkwardly in the stirrup and pulled on the horse's mane while pushing with all of her might with her right leg. Mounting a horse this size allowed no room for fear lest the horse begin to gallop away with her left foot tangled in the stirrup. In a moment she found herself much higher than expected and nearly tumbled directly over the horse as her right leg swung around.

Achieving her seat, which felt precarious as she was settled astride in a dress, she squeezed with her thighs to hold on, which immediately prompted the horse to begin walking. As they moved back towards the forest's main trail, Elizabeth grabbed small branches and pulled in hopes of marking the trees where the man rested in danger.

Reaching the trail prompted the horse to take a mind of his own, and Elizabeth held on for dear life as he took a gallop back to civilization.

"Mr. Horse, that is quite enough! Whoa!" She pulled back on the reins as firmly as she could without trying to annoy the animal into bucking her off. Leaning forward, she patted his neck as he slowed down, wishing she simply could have walked back. This animal had a spirit she could appreciate, but not a speed she could stomach.

As they reached the crest of Oakham Mount, Elizabeth was energized to see a group of men below on horses near the crossroads. She hoped one was her father, but before she could squint to get a better look, the horse took off like a shot down the hill and Elizabeth yelled out. All four men below turned as one to see a magnificent midnight beast of sixteen hands galloping down the hill with the rider screaming like a banshee the entire way down.

"Lizzie!" Mr. Bennet spurred his own horse, a work nag named Nell, towards his daughter with as much speed as the old girl could muster.

"No! Look out!" Elizabeth's horse barreled through the grouping jumped over the fence line and cantered into the field beyond. Shaking, Elizabeth pressed as tightly as she could against the horse's neck, sobbing in fright. After the horse came to a stop, she collected herself and sat upright just as her father and his companions approached. Sniffling the last remnants of her fright away, Elizabeth jerked the reins to turn the animal around.

"That was uncalled for, sir, though I understand your desire for haste." Breathing quickly, Elizabeth's fright returned as her height from the ground came back to the forefront of her mind with the horse stopped. She turned to address her father. "A man has fallen in Winslow's Woods. He's been attacked by a viper."

Mr. Bennet was dumbstruck at the sight of his favorite daughter, the one who hated horses, riding a thoroughbred the size of a racer before him. "My god, daughter, you look a fright! We must get you home, then we'll search for this beast's owner."

The horse Elizabeth rode on grew agitated underneath her seat, stomping around as she struggled to maintain control. Whether the horse just hated to sit still or could actually understand English, Elizabeth assumed it was the former, not the latter. "No, father, he's too badly injured. I chased away the snakes, but he's still unconscious, and he lies on a nest."

Throat clearing could be heard by the other older gentleman of the group and a younger version of the gentleman who rode next to him. Elizabeth glared at Sir Lucas and his son, John. It wasn't that many years ago the younger Lucas' terror of the Bennet sisters with a snake or two prompted Elizabeth to learn her famed snake fighting skill. As all situations of great fear made her rise to the occasion, the adrenaline she felt coursing through her body before was making a steady return. "Please, will you fetch the cart from Longbourn and meet us at the edge of the trail?"

Elizabeth looked to her father and Mr. Watson, the steward of Longbourn, for support. A twinkle in her father's eye but a star in Mr. Watson's, Elizabeth had sufficiently convinced them.

"Do what she asks. A man's life may very well lie in the balance. But for heaven's sake, Elizabeth, take Nell here and let me ride that great horseback into the woods," her father commanded.

Elizabeth looked down at the ground in contemplation and then back up again, feeling dizzy. "I'm afraid I can't do that father. At present, I feel quite comfortable where I am." And without even signaling, her horse once again flexed its own mind and began a brisk trot towards the woods. This time Elizabeth steered him through the gate area of the field instead of taking a jump. Looking over her shoulder to see her father and Watson following and the Lucases heading in the opposite direction, she directed her focus forward. Taking a deep breath, she addressed her horse once more with the sternest voice she could muster.

"Since I am now certain you understand me, if you will not gallop down this hill again, I swear there will be a bushel of apples for you in the stables."

Confident she and the horse had an accord, Elizabeth nevertheless steeled herself for another frightful ride once more back into the breach.

It was nearly an hour later that Elizabeth found herself riding in the cart with the injured man back towards home. Although it was slow going, each bump and rut in the road made the man moan. Without thinking, Elizabeth grabbed his left hand under the blanket. She felt him squeeze her hand a few times, and she smiled. If it was even a small comfort she could give him, it was a liberty she would freely give.

No sooner had the party reached the front gate than Mrs. Bennet came rushing out of the house in full fury!

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth Rose Bennet, how could you ruin tonight for your sisters after all of our preparations? I just knew one day you'd fall down that hill and break your ankle or worse! Have you no consideration for your mother?"

Elizabeth popped her hand up from where she had been comforting the stranger she was charged to watch over, embarrassed to think the others noticed her behavior. She didn't bother to respond to her mother's cries knowing that like every other half-cocked lecture she had received from her mother, it was best to let her father handle his wife. Instead, she realigned her skirts and prepared to rise out of the wagon as soon as it came to a stop.

"Did you ready the guest room? Lizzie is fine. She saved some rich gentleman's life."

Fanny Bennet waved her handkerchief for dramatic effect. She sniffed at her husband and looked into the wagon. "Lizzie saved him?"

Mr. Bennet handed the reins of the black horse over to their stableboy and lent a hand to his daughter, who was attempting to remove herself from the cart without disturbing the man further.

"Where is Jones? Why isn't the apothecary here?" Mr. Bennet looked around as he climbed into the cart himself to lift the stranger by his shoulders, aggravated to see his wife didn't have the sense to summon the apothecary when she heard there was an injury.

Elizabeth stepped out of the way as John Lucas grasped the stranger's legs and carried him out of the cart with Mr. Bennet. The commotion in the front garden brought all four of the other Bennet sisters down though only the eldest, Jane and the middle daughter, Mary, were fully dressed to be seen by others. Crowding the stairs, the girls created an obstacle as Mr. Bennet was beginning to groan under such weight.

"Girls, move!" he shouted as Elizabeth rushed forward to grab one of the stranger's shoulders to help her father steady the man. Together, the three of them carried him up the stairs to the guest room overlooking the front of the home.

Mr. Bennet began removing the man's boots and clothing before Elizabeth had a chance to vacate, but she wasn't able to stay much longer as her mother incessantly called her out to the hall.

"Where on earth did you get off to, young lady? I gave you instructions to rest, but oh no, you go get yourself covered in mud and who knows what else the second I turn my back..."

"Mama, Lizzie saved a man. Oh, how romantic! Now you can fall in love and marry, and he'll owe you his life!" Lydia, the youngest Bennet sister, interrupted their mother with her shrill voice and laughter.

Mrs. Bennet paused and looked at Lydia, clearly not realizing the implications of Elizabeth's actions. Elizabeth grew alarmed at the sudden smile on her mother's face and struggled to get away.

She bowed her head quickly to her mother and muttered she would hurry to bathe for the assembly.

"You shall do no such thing! You will remain here tonight to nurse that man back to health. You'll never be ready in time, regardless." Mrs. Bennet dismissed her least favorite daughter with a satisfied humming sound and began shooing Lydia down the hall to her bedroom to help her with preparations.

Running to her room, Elizabeth closed the door forcefully and crumpled to the floor. She was finally safe to release all of the fear, guilt, and sadness she felt and try to recover from such an overwhelming afternoon. As her tears fell, slowly the stress and tension throughout her body poured out with them. She was surprised to start feeling stiff and sore throughout her joints. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to collect herself and see if her father needed help. And despite what her mother said, she was going to call for a bath because she smelled worse than the Lucas' pig sty!

Long after her sisters and mother had left, she took a fresh bath and ate a light supper. Thanks to the hot water boiled for the man upstairs, Hill was even able to give her a warm tub. Elizabeth finally braved her father's study to inquire how the man upstairs fared. She knocked gently on the door a few times.

"Lord Lizzie, just come in." Her father was at his desk, reading the post and drinking port. Demurely, Elizabeth slipped in and quietly seated herself in her usual seat in the window. The night was brilliantly illuminated by the silver glow of the moon above, and she began to wish she had attended the assembly as she dearly loved to dance.

"No long faces in here if you please."

"Papa, how is the man upstairs? Is he so terrible?"

Mr. Bennet downed his glass of port and stood up to pour himself another. The walls of his study were lined with bookshelves, but there was a gap where he had pulled all his medical journals down for today's catastrophe.

"Elizabeth, do you know the man you saved?" Mr. Bennet sighed as he returned to his chair and then proceeded to place his spectacles on to examine another letter of correspondence.

Confused, Elizabeth shook her head. "No, Papa. I've never met him."

"Hm, perhaps he has a sister named Elizabeth, then."

Elizabeth's heart quickened, and she took an audible breath and blushed. Was this man saying her name? It couldn't be, she had never met him before, and this was not one of her novels lying in a pile next to the bed.

"He said," she swallowed the nervousness pooling in her mouth, "he said my name?"

Mr. Bennet leaned back and folded his glasses again and placed them on his desk. He took a long look at his daughter before answering. "Why don't you tell me again the story of you finding the poor chap?"

Elizabeth pulled her knees up and tucked them under her dress, wrapping her arms around them. She recounted how she was just about to return home when the horse came running out of the woods, alone with no rider. She explained how once she started to think about it, she never should have started searching for the rider by herself, and just when she was about to abandon her attempt, she heard the moan. On and on Elizabeth continued, telling her father all of her fears and how she nearly gave up many times. When she reached the point of her story where she mounted the horse, her father stopped her.

"Aha! There you go. You said it! You told him your name before you left him to find me."

Elizabeth's mouth hung open in shock as she realized indeed she had told the man her name. She closed it again and burned with shame as she also remembered how she had touched his cheek, but managed to leave that part of her story for herself.

"It seemed natural at the time, Papa. In case he woke up." Elizabeth sat upright and let her legs dangle from the window seat again as her father began chuckling good-naturedly.

"Well daughter, thanks to your efforts, your patient upstairs happened to utter your name while your mother was in the room and by now, the whole town has heard. You may very well have just become the richest woman in the neighborhood!"

Elizabeth was aghast that her father would laugh at her and worse, that he would insinuate she would be forced to marry just because she happened to come upon a man after a horse riding accident! It was preposterous! With nothing more to tell, Elizabeth stood up and quit her father's study to return upstairs.

She paused in the hallway before making her decision on whether to just go to bed when a polite knocking on the door surprised her. The knock may have been polite in the tremor of the knock, but certainly not the hour. Deciding that if the person on the other side could disobey the rules of propriety by visiting in the middle of the night, she could very well answer the door.

After a customary bow, a smiling man of fair features greeted Elizabeth from the doorway.

"I am your newest neighbor in town, Charles Bingley, at your service. I believe a guest, and a very good friend of mine, is ill in your home. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

"How did you hear he was here?" She didn't intend on sounding so suspicious, but she didn't recognize the man, and she wasn't going to put the stranger in further danger. Mr. Bennet, hearing the front door shake the wall shared with his study, appeared behind Elizabeth.

"Mr. Bingley! I wondered if the man we found belonged to you!" Mr. Bennet shook Bingley's hand, having met him two days earlier while dealing with a tenant on the border of Netherfield and Longbourn.

Blushing, Bingley entered the home and gripped his hat in his hands.

"We searched all evening for him when he never returned from his afternoon ride. I attended the assembly to see if anyone had seen a sign of him or perhaps where he rode to. It's a bit like Darcy to take solitary rides in the countryside, but unfortunately, unlike his home county, no one knows him here. As soon as Mrs. Bennet talked about a horse riding accident and a stranger in her guest room, I boarded my carriage to come directly here. Please forgive the late hour."

Mr. Bennet nodded and offered Bingley something strong to drink, but he politely declined until after he could see to his friend. Dutifully, Elizabeth escorted him to Mr. Darcy's sickroom.

Mister Darcy. Mister Darcy. The name weighed on Elizabeth's mind as she had so far only considered the man upstairs as just "the gentleman," a man with no name, a mystery. The situation felt less like a novel now that he suddenly had an identity, but at least it ruled out complications if his injuries caused amnesia.

As Elizabeth skipped the second to last stair near the top, Mr. Bingley missed her example, and a loud creak broke the silence, causing Elizabeth to jump out of her own thoughts. Pausing in the hallway, she wasn't sure how to prepare Mr. Bingley for what his friend must look like. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she held the candle in her right hand, and her left hand rested on the knob. Finally, she looked over her shoulder to address Mr. Bingley.

"He, I mean, Mr. Darcy might appear a little pale." Elizabeth grimaced as Bingley nodded that he understood.

The door creaked open to a thrashing, sweat covered man on the bed before them! Elizabeth dashed to place the candle on the nightstand before immediately feeling Darcy's forehead. With both hands, she cupped his face, only to let go with haste.

"He's burning up. Go alert my father!" Elizabeth peered at the anguished face of Mr. Darcy and bit her lip. "HILL!" she shouted out the door, causing the maid to nearly knock Mr. Bingley over on the stairs. Elizabeth leaned out of the bedroom and shouted a command for her to bring up the coldest bowl of water as soon as she was able.

Before returning to the guest room, Elizabeth dashed into her own bedroom and raised the floorboard beneath her bed. A crude box from her uncle's warehouse resided in her secret hiding place which she hastily opened. Inside were several bandages and home remedies Elizabeth had used countless times to tend her own injuries, mostly to keep her mother unaware of how dangerous her walks and rambles genuinely were. She grabbed some clean cloths and the most potent brew of willow bark draught in her possession and rushed back to the man. No, not man, Mr. Darcy.

The patient remained unchanged as Elizabeth prepared the small cup with a healthy dose of the draught. Ideally, Mr. Darcy would drink this in his tea, but she'd have to make do.

"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy, sir, it's Elizabeth Bennet again. I'm here to help you, sir." She made her voice sound as calm and melodic as she could, and felt a small cheer in her breast as the man calmed in response.

"There you go." She reached out to stroke his arm, making sure it was his left one, and not the injured right, only instead of remaining calm, Mr. Darcy began to thrash again. "Now, none of that!"

Hill appeared with the basin of cold water. Elizabeth motioned for her to place it on the bedside table and to help her restrain him. Both women grasped the chest and arms of Mr. Darcy as Elizabeth held the cup tenaciously over his mouth to try to keep it from spilling. Despite placing the cup to his lips, the feverish, unconscious man refused to drink.

Looking to Hill and seeing the maid nod, Elizabeth blew a breath up to move her hair out of her face. "Ready?" Hill grasped the man with more gusto, and Elizabeth held Mr. Darcy's nose closed with her hand. At the man's first great breath, Elizabeth dumped the draught into his mouth, released his nose, and clamped her hand on his jaw to force it to stay closed. She waited and prayed she hadn't just drowned the man, but his Adam's apple clearly moved up and down, signaling he was swallowing.

"Thank you. See, it's not so bad to take one's medicine." Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, gathering her strength from the test of wills with a stubborn, unconscious man. She patted his uninjured arm as a comfort.

"Remove your hands from Mr. Darcy this instant!"

Elizabeth looked up at the doorway to see an unfamiliar woman stride into the room with more feathers on her head than a peacock.

"Pardon me, but you are?"

With a look of great scorn, the woman identified herself as Caroline Bingley, sister to Charles and dearest friend to the Darcy family. Elizabeth shrugged and reached for the cloths Hill had soaked in the cold water. She turned her back to the woman and carefully pressed them to Mr. Darcy's forehead and neck area that she could reach.

"I told you to stop! How dare you sit beside Mr. Darcy in his sickbed and touch his person!" Caroline shrieked and actually grabbed Elizabeth's arm. Hill took a step forward in defense of her mistress, only for Elizabeth to take care of the situation herself.

"Miss Bingley, touch MY person one more time, and they will be removing those feathers from your nose!" Elizabeth pulled her arm free, causing Miss Bingley to stumble backward a few steps.

"You harlot! I know your type, trying to claim Mr. Darcy for your own. Well, we'll just see about this!" Caroline hissed and stormed out of the room.

Elizabeth lifted the first round of cloths and handed them back to Hill before accepting another round. She carefully placed the cloths on his skin and watched as his restlessness seemed to slow. She could hear multiple raised voices from down below and did not need anyone to announce that Miss Bingley must have ridden home from the assembly with her own family.

Heavy footsteps Elizabeth recognized as her father's could be heard coming up the stairs, but Elizabeth continued to nurse Mr. Darcy. With her back to the door, she could sense when her father was standing there and kept up her charade of pretending ignorance.

He cleared his throat, yet still, Elizabeth refused to tear her eyes from the face of Mr. Darcy.

"Elizabeth. I believe it is time for you to retire for the evening." Her father used a tone she rarely heard, the one that made it clear he would brook no disagreement.

"But Father, he is so feverish! Please." Elizabeth waited a moment before looking at her father with all of her fears for this man in her eyes. Her father's features softened, and at first, she thought she had triumphed. Instead, he pointed at Hill.

"Others can apply cold compresses. Come, you need your rest, and Mr. Darcy will remain here tonight. If you are up to it, perhaps tomorrow his fever will have broken, and you can read to him." Mr. Bennet held out his hand to his daughter as she took it and rose from the bed. He embraced her hand with both of his own in affection and leaned forward to kiss the back of her head as she quit the room to retire.

Once she was alone in the bedroom she shared with Jane, who was not sent to bed like a misbehaving youth, she slipped into her nightgown with one thought on her mind. Curse that Caroline Bingley!

A/N: It took a lot of self-control not to heavily edit a story I wrote 5 years ago, though I did update a few sentences for clarity. This story all began with a single scene of Elizabeth Bennet interrupted on Oakham Mount by a riderless stallion. I hope you enjoy this PIP, and while I will work to post more backlist here, I do have other books up on my website that anyone can read. I just started using to help sponsor new chapters as I write them, but even they will eventually post publicly after the book releases. It's been a long journey these last 5 years and now my publishing career fully supports me and my children. Thank you so much for reading! -EAW