Carrie Bebris: The Intrigue at Highbury

Elizabeth shared the animal’s impatience. Anxious to see for herself what was happening, she set aside her lap blanket and muff. Her reticule she wrapped by its drawstring round her wrist, and she called the footman from the rear of the vehicle to help her out of the carriage.

Just as he took her hand to assist her, a dark blur streaked past his head. It so startled them both that she nearly fell, but he caught her. Had his reflexes been the least bit slower, she would certainly have suffered injury, for the flying shape swooped towards the horses, agitating them tremendously. The carriage shifted as the groom struggled to control his team.

After circling thrice, the creature flew toward Jeffrey. He dropped the reins to protect his face, but the defensive instinct proved unnecessary. The great black bird landed on the seat beside him and emitted a throaty kaugh .

It was a raven, the most enormous Elizabeth had ever seen. It perched on the seat as if it, not Jeffrey, were in command of the carriage, and cawed at the coachman for presuming to usurp its rightful place.

“Shoo.” The unnerved coachman’s voice would not have intimidated even Lily-Anne.

The raven cawed again, each cry deeper and louder than the one previous. Poor Jeffrey, who in all his fifty years had never received such abuse, looked almost willing to concede his place if only the sinister bird would leave him be. But then he remembered himself, and seemed about to assert his authority over the mouthy upstart, when the creature took flight once more.

It rose up, then dived and circled the horses again. The animals snorted and shied, jostling the carriage as the bird swept past them and round the back of the jerking vehicle. A moment later, they heard the sound of breaking glass.

And were suddenly enveloped by darkness.

“Devil take that bird — it must have broken the lamp,” Ben, the footman, said. “I will try to get it working again.”

The raven had flown into the trees. Though it no longer molested them, it continued to heckle their party from above. The groom had all he could do to soothe the horses as Jeffrey escorted Elizabeth to Darcy.

The stranger, all the while, had not ceased her laments, and had carried them on loudly enough that Darcy was unaware of the avian vandal harassing the coach. Just as Elizabeth approached, the young woman swayed. Darcy caught her in one arm, the other still holding the heavy lantern. He looked towards the carriage to signal for assistance, and was clearly surprised to find Elizabeth and his coachman so close. Jeffrey relieved him of the lantern.

“I thought I told you to remain in the coach,” Darcy said.

“I thought I could be of more use here,” Elizabeth replied. “And a disagreeable bird has just extinguished the other lamp, so I would as soon be with you while Ben repairs it.”

“Very well. Allow me to present Miss Jones.” His tone was as dry as the leaves.

Miss Jones had not lost consciousness, but had quieted during her swoon. She was quite young — a slip of a thing, barely more than a girl, perhaps sixteen — with delicate features and large blue eyes. Her thin muslin dress had seen better days, but looked to have at one time been fine. It was trimmed with beadwork and pink ribbon. A matching ribbon tied back her long, thick hair.

“Whatever is she doing wandering about the woods alone at night?” Elizabeth asked.

Darcy tried to help Miss Jones stand upright, but the girl continued to lean on him rather more than Elizabeth thought necessary. Darcy himself appeared displeased by the prolonged contact. “She is injured and hysterical. I have been unable to obtain any particulars beyond her name.”

Elizabeth started to address Miss Jones but was cut off before she could utter a syllable.

“Oh, what a relief to have another woman present! Not that you, sir, have been anything but a gentleman, but it is so much more in a woman’s nature to attend injuries. And I am injured, ma’am — my ankle — how it pains me!” Miss Jones attempted to stand but her leg buckled, requiring Darcy to continue supporting her. “Is there anyone else in your party? A surgeon, perhaps?”

“Only the two of us, I am afraid,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, do not say only the two of you — how fortunate I am that you should be traveling this road just when I am in need of assistance. Will you — might I ask you to examine my ankle, ma’am — Mrs. — Mrs. — ?”

“Darcy.”

“Mrs. Darcy? I would not impose on your kindness, but I am in such extraordinary pain! Perhaps Mr. Darcy could help settle me on the ground, and then, being a gentleman, gaze off into those trees behind me while you look at my ankle?”

“For both modesty’s and comfort’s sake, would you not rather be examined in the carriage?” Darcy asked.

“Oh, I am sure I cannot walk another step! It would not surprise me at all if the ankle were broken. In fact, it is certainly broken — indeed, I cannot stand here a minute more.”

“All the more reason to—”

“No, I must sit down.” She began to lower herself. “If you will just help me — yes, just so — there — I shall be fine right here. I am sure I shall be much better able to reach the carriage after relieving my ankle of weight for a few minutes while Mrs. Darcy examines it.”

When she was settled, the coachman held the lantern while Elizabeth knelt to examine Miss Jones’s ankle. Both Jeffrey and Darcy averted their gazes as Elizabeth lifted the soiled hem of the woman’s dress. Pea-sized white beads threatened to slip off several frayed threads. Miss Jones’s shoes were worn; bits of damp earth from the road clung to them.

As Elizabeth reached for the injured foot, Jeffrey dutifully scanned the trees behind Miss Jones to preserve her delicacy. Darcy aimed his gaze toward the carriage, of which they could see little. The vehicle was still dark, and beyond the reach of their own light. The horses, from the sound of them, remained excited, though the raven either watched them in silence or had at last flown away, for its ominous kaugh had ceased.

Elizabeth palpated the ankle. Miss Jones cried out, momentarily drawing Darcy’s attention before he remembered himself and joined Jeffrey in admiring the trees.

“I wonder how Ben is getting on with that lamp,” Jeffrey said.

Miss Jones’s ankle did not look broken — indeed, it was not even bruised or swollen. Miss Jones, however, exclaimed at each gentle prod as if Elizabeth were branding her. The girl had a low tolerance for pain.

“How did you injure yourself?” Elizabeth asked.

“I tripped over a tree root.”

“Was no one with you? You must live very close, then.”

“Not at all. I do not even live in this part of the country — I am visiting my cousins. They live on a nearby farm — at least, it was nearby — I was out walking, and lost my way. I was wandering for hours, and the darker it became, the more I feared I would never find my way back to them. In my panic I did not see the tree root.”

Darcy could not help but turn his attention on her. “Your cousins allowed you to walk about unescorted in strange country?”

“They were visiting a friend. I had a slight headache and stayed behind. But then it improved, so I decided to meet them coming home. I thought I knew the way. Oh! — That hurts!”

Elizabeth released her foot. “You must have merely turned the ankle, for I detect no break or sprain. Let us get you to the carriage and transport you to your cousins. What are their names?”

“Their names?” She winced. “Jones. Jones — just like mine.”

Miss Jones found she could stand unsupported, but still moaned and complained. Elizabeth was sympathetic to her discomfort, but wished the girl were not quite so vocal about it. To hear her grievances, one would think her entire leg had been amputated.