Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Abigail Reynolds Read Free Book Online Page A

it?”
    “If you could assist me here…” Strain
sounded in his voice.
    If Mr. Darcy was actually asking for
assistance, it must be something terrible. Perhaps he was trapped by a falling
log. She pushed her way through the blinding snow till she found him on his
knees, digging with both hands in a snowdrift, pieces of wood scattered around
him. “What should I do?” she half-shouted over the wind.
    “Could you remove the logs leaning on my
arm?” he grunted.
    “Of course.” She hardly even noticed the
snow stinging her fingertips as she hurried to move them aside.  “Should I
take more?”
    “No, that should be….” He bent down into
the hole he had made, tugging at something, then suddenly straightened with a
lump of snow in his hands.  “…enough. Thank you.”
    “Are you injured?”
    “Inside.”
    Was he waiting for her to go first?
Suddenly aware of the ridiculousness of trying to converse when every word had
to be shouted, she trudged back to the door. Her shaking hands struggled with
the latch for a moment before it lifted.
    She had to lean on the door to close it
behind Mr. Darcy. It was blessedly still inside despite the constant sound of
wind whistling over the chimney. She could not have been out there for more
than three minutes, but it had seemed like an eternity. She shook off 
snow from her dress and shivered.
    Mr. Darcy knelt in front of the hearth,
examining his odd discovery. “Would you be so kind as to place another log on
the fire, Miss Elizabeth?”
    His formality reminded her of how angry he
had been when he first went in search of wood, so after doing as he asked, she
retreated to the far side of the hearth. The fire burned higher with the new
wood, revealing more of the lump of snow Mr. Darcy was busily rubbing.
Elizabeth blinked. Was it moving ?
    Forgetting her attempt to keep her
distance, she leaned toward him and peered at it. Yes, it was alive! “What is
it?”
    “A cat. She was hiding in the woodpile.”
He lifted the animal and held it against his chest, murmuring something
inaudible to it.
    Now she could make out the tail and the
ears. “Trying to find a warm spot, I suppose. It is a miracle he made it
through the night.”
    “It may be too late already, if he has frostbite
on his paws.”
    “I hope not. I would rather have a
miracle.” Elizabeth realized the animal was not so much covered with snow as
mostly white. A few buff-colored patches dotted his head. “Actually, two
miracles. Only you, Mr. Darcy, could find a white cat in a blizzard! I thought
he was a snowball.”
    He raised his head. “Snowballs rarely meow
and bite people.”
    Elizabeth could not stop herself from
dissolving into laughter. “Did he really bite you?”
    “Not badly. I was disturbing his hiding
place, after all.”
    Another new side of Mr. Darcy! That he
would go to the trouble of rescuing a stray cat in the storm was surprising
enough for a gentleman, but to do so after he had been bitten, and then to warm
it himself? “You are covered in snow. Should I hold him so you can remove it
before it melts?”
    He looked down at his arms in surprise. “I
suppose so.” He detached the cat, who apparently was clinging to his shirt with
his claws, and gingerly held it out to her.
    The cat made no effort to escape, curling
immediately into Elizabeth’s arms. “Why, you are barely half grown! I can feel
your ribs.” Scooting closer to the fire, she turned so as much heat as possible
would reach the shivering animal. Would its fur be soft if it were not so wet
and cold?
    She fluffed up the fur to help it dry,
then felt along the cat’s body to see if it might be injured. No, it was only
the cold, and most likely hunger. There could have been no hunting in this
storm. “You poor thing,” she crooned. “You will be warm soon.” There was little
they could do for the cat’s hunger unless it had a taste for raw onions. The
last of the venison had been eaten that morning.
    Mr. Darcy crouched