Page 4 of Saved By Mr. Darcy
Without waiting for a response, Darcy ran back to the carriage.
“Mrs Gardiner?”
“Yes, sir?”
“The men are here now. They will get you out. I need you to do something for me. Can you move Miss Elizabeth away from the roof? We are going to cut through the wood, and she must be a good distance away.”
“I can try,” Mrs Gardiner said, her voice wobbling. “She is trapped, sir. I cannot promise that I can move her far. Her leg is pinned by something. It is too heavy for me to lift - I have tried but...”
Her words were broken by a harsh, heaving sob.
“Keep her where she is, then. We will cut above her.”
“Please, hurry. I am not sure how much longer we can last. Her breathing is very strange.”
“The axe!” he called as he jumped down from the carriage’s upturned side. “Hurry!”
One of the stable boys hurried over, handing the axe to Mr Darcy’s waiting hand.
“I’m going to strike the wood now. I’ll do it high, but hold her steady if you can.”
Pulling back as far as he could, Darcy swung the axe forward. The blade struck the wood with great force, the crack echoing around him. He swung again, hitting the same place. With a few more hits, positioned close to the first, a hole appeared in the wood. He dropped the axe to the floor beside him, crouching down and pulling at the wood with his bare hands until it began to come apart.
“Sir, you’ll hurt yourself!”
He paid no attention to the lad behind him, not ceasing his frantic tearing until there was a hole perhaps ten inches long and the same wide. He was not sure where he had gathered the strength to tear the roof of a carriage apart as easily as a loaf of bread, but the blood surging through his veins numbed any pain in his hands. He peered through the hole, the light streaming through at last illuminating the two women within.
“Thank heavens,” Mrs Gardiner said, looking up at him from her place on the floor - or what would have once been the door. “Lizzy. Lizzy, can you hear me?”
His eyes were drawn to Elizabeth’s unconscious form. She lay awkwardly, her head close to her aunt’s lap, her leg caught beneath the splintered seat of the coach. He could make out the steady rise and fall of her chest, a sharp wheeze filling the air around her as she did so.
“We need to get her out first, Mrs Gardiner. I am sorry for it, but we shall require your assistance in moving her safely.”
“I will help. If we can twist her slightly, I believe I will be able to lift the seat enough to free her leg.”
“I will cut the rest of this panel as carefully as I can.”
He began to chop at the wood, aware that Elizabeth was far too close for comfort. He made careful indents, pulling each section free until there was only a gaping hole. He could have wept with relief, for he could see Elizabeth’s face clearly now.
“Men! Get the stretchers and help me. Mrs Gardiner, are you ready?”
“Ready.”
Kneeling down, inhaling deeply to steady his shaking, bloodied hands, he took purchase of Elizabeth’s arms. He turned her to her back, mindful of her trapped leg, his arms beneath her shoulders and linked around her waist, holding her firmly.
“Lie the wood here,” he barked, nodding to the space beside him. “I’m going to slide her out and place her on it, as quickly as I can so as not to aggravate any injuries. Are we ready?”
“Ready.”
“Now, Mrs Gardiner. Lift up what is trapping her leg. You are stronger than you believe.”
Her aunt said nothing, but he heard the faint sound of sobbing and a creak of wood.
“I’ve done it.”
At once, he gave Elizabeth an almighty tug. As though she weighed nothing, she slid from the carriage and onto his lap. His hands still anchored to her shoulders, he rested her upon the long plank of wood. He slid his arms free and straightened himself, staring down at the terrible sight below him. A small part of him had clung to hope that this was all some mistake, a different Elizabeth Bennet. There was no hope now, for he looked upon the face he had seen in his dreams – now, a nightmare. She was horribly pale, a smudge of blood on her temple. Her lips were almost blue, her eyes ringed by bruises already beginning to bloom. If it were not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he would think her dead.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he swallowed the bile that threatened to rise. He could not fall apart now. All was not lost, and there was the matter of the woman still trapped in the wreck of the carriage. He opened his eyes, and moved back to the opening.
