Free Mr. Darcy's Refuge by Abigail Reynolds

neighbor’s barn when she had not even realized there was such a barn, and now he was directing the efforts in the flooded village. All she had done was to entertain Jenny and attend to Charlotte’s seemingly endless supply of mending. When she had tried to feed Charlotte’s chickens the previous day, Cook had informed her testily that it had all been taken care of. She might have attempted to visit the displaced villagers in Charlotte’s stead, but Mr. Darcy had been quite clear that she was not to be alone with them.
     
    Sorting through the basket of old clothes, she put aside the wool socks with moth holes that were on the top. Jane had always teased her over the messiness of her darning, a task Elizabeth disliked and had never put much effort into learning to perform well. Instead she found an old shirt whose hem was partially ripped out. Sewing a basic seam was definitely within her capabilities. Threading a needle, she set to work.
     
    The light was poor, even sitting right next to the window, and her eyes were already feeling the strain when she heard loud voices coming from the kitchen. Resolving that it was time for her to take more of an interest in the proceedings, she put aside the shirt and marched to the kitchen door.
     
    The creature in the kitchen would most likely have been revealed to be one of the village men if the thick layer of smelly mud that covered him were removed. Cook faced him, hands on her hips. “Out of my kitchen this minute! And no, you cannot destroy our good clothesline in that filthy river!”
     
    “What seems to be the matter here?” Elizabeth asked.
     
    Cook turned a glare on her. “He can’t have our good clothesline. Mrs. Collins wouldn’t stand for such nonsense.”
     
    Elizabeth looked at the man. “What do you need it for?”
     
    “River’s going up again. Need to clear out what we can, but the river’s too fast to go into without a rope. Mr. Darcy said to get more rope.”
     
    Cook sniffed. “Mr. High and Mighty Darcy always knows best, I suppose, so you might as well take it before he comes storming in here himself. It’s on the shelf in the shed.”
     
    The man turned to leave, but Elizabeth said, “Is Mr. Darcy is still down by the river, then?”
     
    The man guffawed. “Can’t rightly say that . He’s in the river up to here.” He indicated a line across his chest. “Without a rope, more fool he. Wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her ladyship if he don’t make it out.” Chuckling at his own wit, he shambled out of the kitchen.
     
    Elizabeth felt a ridiculous urge to run after him and find out for herself what was happening by the river, but her presence would only be a hindrance to the efforts. Surely he must have been exaggerating the risk. She did not want to think about that. Since mending would only give her time to brood, she decided instead to check on Jenny.
     
    Jenny was awake now, sitting up in bed with her arms wrapped around the wooden dog, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her first words on seeing Elizabeth were, “Is Mr. Darcy back?”
     
    Elizabeth blinked in surprise. She had not thought the girl to have a particular attachment to Mr. Darcy, or even to know his name, for that matter. “Not yet. Is there something I can do for you? Would you like something to eat?”
     
    The girl shook her head. “Just your husband.”
     
    Not that again. Elizabeth had supposed someone would have disabused the girl of the notion, but at this point it would probably do more harm than good to correct her. “And why are you so eager to see my… Mr. Darcy?"
     
    Jenny’s mouth drooped. “I’m not supposed to tell.”
     
    What sort of nonsense was this? If the girl had not been through so much already, Elizabeth would have tried to coax the secret from her, but under the circumstances, she could only wait to find out. She would have some choice words for Mr. Darcy on his return, that was for certain – assuming he did return. Her