I hope you enjoy this variation on Pride and Prejudice! I will be publishing the full version on Amazon, but will update with quite a few more chapters in the mean time. I hope you like it! I have another story up on Amazon right now called Christmas At Netherfield which you can find at Amazon, just look me up: Nora Kipling.

Fresh air rushed across Elizabeth Bennet's cheeks as she made her way down the road towards Netherfield.

"It's not all that far, after all," she said to herself aloud, repeating the words she had spoken to her family just a short time ago when she had been warm and entirely dry in the safety of Longbourn. Now, though, having sunk several times up to her ankles in the mud and dirt she was not all that thrilled at the decision she'd made. Going to Netherfield Park, what had she been thinking?

Only of Jane, her beloved sister Jane. That had been her one thought: to see to Jane's needs and make sure that her sister was being cared for in the manner she needed to be. Goodness, but only one sister could help another convalesce especially among such esteemed company as Jane had found herself in at Netherfield Park.

If only Netherfield wasn't quite so far away, and if only the road wasn't quite so wet as it had been. She pulled her bonnet further down on her head and wished the plaited straw would do more to protect her delicate ears and the back of her neck. It was chilly out, and the wet was creeping up her skirts so much that the under layers were sticking to her legs. She held her arms around herself, her wool shawl not cutting the wind but at least keeping the heat tightly pressed inside of her.

Netherfield couldn't be too much further, could it? She ached to sit beside a warm fire, with a good book and the top layer of her skirts pulled up in an unladylike manner so she could warm her legs. She was beginning to think she might never regain feeling her legs ever again.

The sound of a horse's hooves around the next bend in the road made her step to the side, clearing a path for the rider that might be coming. So anxious was she to not get in the way of a horse that she didn't notice the patch of mud just to her right. Her booted foot caught in it, and the sucking mess grabbed at her. With the weight of her water-logged dress, and with a set of limbs that were stiff from the cold she flailed and went down with a cry, tumbling into the mess of mud and matted grasses.

Cold! Immediate cold soaked right through the cotton of her gown and she gasped, struggling to get to her feet. Her boot was nearly wrenched from her, so strong was the hold of the mud.

"Whoa!" a deep male voice said, and she looked up, her eyes widening in dismay at the sight in front of her. Mr. Darcy, astrid a tall black horse, his collar turned up against the wind, his hat rising sharp and tall over his wind-tossed hair. Her cheeks immediately burned with shame, to be found wallowing like a pig in muck by the one man she had hoped never to catch sight of again.

Not handsome enough to tempt him! Well certainly not now, that she was all over mud, and soaked right down to her pantalettes. She lifted a dirty hand to push the hair out of her eyes, bumping her bonnet as she did so.

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said with the most peculiar look on his face. He was frozen, for just a moment, and then he dismounted from his horse in a sharp movement. He was striding to her, and she gulped down a noise of dismay. Of all the people to see her in such a manner, it would be Mr. Darcy. She felt in that moment as she would never live the moment down, and that the shame of her situation would be worn on her scarlet cheeks for the world to see for the rest of her life.

She thought he might only offer her his hand, but he reached for her, both his arms outstretched. She felt him tuck his hands around her ribcage, and he lifted her out of the mud and mess, leaving her no choice but to press up against him and get his fine riding costume filthy with dirt.

"Oh," she said as a lance of pain shot up her ankle when he pulled her from the mud. A wince crossed her face as he settled her upright, his arms still around her and holding her close.

"Miss Bennet, you are hurt," he stated with a frown, his brow furrowed. He pulled away from her, his hand lingering on her forearm to steady her in case she decided to topple over she supposed. He must think her weak, not at all the stout country maiden. Not only was she not handsome enough, she was a fainting blossom. More shame burnt her cheeks, for she had never been proud to be a dainty, delicate creature and had always trusted in the frame that she had been blessed with: strong and able. She felt weak now though, from her long trek from Longbourn and now the humiliation and pain of having been found frolicking in a mud wallow.

"I thank you for your assistance, Mr. Darcy," she said, trying to sound appreciative when all she felt was short and irritable. "But I am quite fine. I am just walking to Netherfield Park to see my sister when-" she trailed off and looked at the mud patch. He followed her gaze and then cleared his throat.

"I myself was riding to visit your father at Longbourn," he said, with a shake of his head. "I am afraid I have grave news. Your sister has taken a turn for the worse, and has become more ill with the poor weather. The damp creeps even into Netherfield's warmest rooms."

Fear struck at her, crackling through her chest like a thousand static shocks at his words.

"She fares even worse than before?" Elizabeth whispered and then looked down the road with determination. She started walking, favoring strongly her sore ankle as sharp bites of pain licked at her right from the bone. Her skirts stuck to her legs as she moved, and every single step was absolute agony. Shame, fear, nagging worry that bordered on panic, all warred within her and weighed her down as surely as her soaked dresses did.

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy didn't let her get more than five feet before grabbing her wrist. "You are hurt, you will barely make the manor before tomorrow's night fall, and injured as you are you will be of no use to your sister." She turned to look at him, her breathing labored already from the effort it took to walk with her injured leg.

"I must go to my sister, immediately," she said, lifting her head proudly. Perhaps he thought her too weak to make the journey, but she would, with or without his judgement.

"Please, ride my horse. It will save you further pain and I will make the journey back to Netherfield on foot." He went to grab his horse's reins, the beast having stood there patiently while Mr. Darcy had rescued her from the mud.

"I couldn't," she protested, noting that the saddle was not meant for a lady, for riding with both legs to one side. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of riding astride as men did, overwhelming her worries for her sister's wellbeing for just one moment.

"You must," Mr. Darcy insisted. "I will help you into the saddle. Come." He tugged his horse forward and lead her around one side. He saw her eyeing the saddle uncomfortably, and a brief hint of a smile flickered across his normally solemn face. "You may sit to one side, if you wish, just perhaps adjust your grip on the saddle. This is one of my favorite mounts, very steady and so well mannered an elderly lady could ride him without being troubled." He offered her his hand. "Please, Miss Bennet. You are injured, and will become sick as well if you do not find yourself by a warming fire soon."

Her ankle did ache with a ferocity she did not appreciate, and she knew that if she stayed out much longer in her soaked garments she would become ill as her sister had, and be of no use to anybody. She had no choice, she realized, she would have to take Mr. Darcy's mount and ride to Netherfield, leaving the man to walk behind her.

"As you wish," she said, willing some warmth into her tone to thank him for his kindness. She was not pleased to be in the position to have to thank him for anything, given his unkind words regarding his opinion of her at the assembly. But some small, disgruntled part of her did appreciate that he was willing to walk like a peasant so that she might get safely to Netherfield as past as possible.

"It is as I wish," he said, and there was another trace of amusement in his eyes before it was gone again, stone-cold Mr. Darcy that she knew so very little of reappearing in front of her. "Grasp my hand, there's a girl," he said encouragingly as she wrapped her fingers around his forearm. It felt so strange to be close to a man she was not related to in any way, and she was grateful that no passersby had come along the road to see them in such a close embrace. "Foot in the stirrup," he said. She lifted her good leg, biting back a whimper of pain as her ankle shrilled at her with agony. Her leg trembled to hold her weight and he had to help her slip her foot into the stirrup. "And up!" He pushed, and she pushed back, using all her force to heave herself up into the saddle. When she was secured in place, she took a breath and relaxed minutely. She adjusted her seat until she was more comfortable, feeling less like she was going to teeter off the saddle. She longed for a side-saddle, however, and did feel quite out of sorts to be so positioned in improper tack. Mr. Darcy took a moment, arranging her skirts for her modesty, and she felt her cheeks color even brighter at his proprietary nature. Who was he to touch her as such?

Before she could make a noise of outrage though, he passed her the reins.

"I will see you at Netherfield, journey safely, Miss Bennet," he said, stepping back from her so she could encourage the horse into a walk.

She wasn't sure what to say to him as she clucked at the horse and it began to move at a sedate walk. Her ankle throbbed dully, and she was so grateful to no longer have to bear weight on it for the time being. She looked back at Mr. Darcy. He stood in the middle of the road, his hat tall and elegant, his clothing streaked with mud from assisting her, one of his hands fisted just below his sleeve as he watched her with those dark eyes of his.

"Thank you Mr. Darcy," she said, not wanting to lift her hand from the reins lest she unbalance herself and go tumbling from the horse's back. It would not do to fall all over again. He gave her a brief nod, and then disappeared as she rounded the bend. She was alone, with nothing but her thoughts and her shame at the situation she'd found herself in.