Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
A s they stumbled through the snow, a rush of wind almost knocked them down again. Once they steadied themselves, Mr Darcy wrapped one arm around Elizabeth’s body to keep her from falling. As they drew closer, she could now see that the sycamore trees they had been walking towards stood near an outbuilding, which she recognised as one of Netherfield’s old barns.
He led her to it and attempted to open the door, but the wind battered against him. He worked against the gale for a few moments, finally managing to yank it open and usher her into the barn. Following quickly, he slammed the door shut.
Once inside, Elizabeth felt instant relief from the wind that had been pushing and pulling against her. Before her eyes could adjust to the dim light, she was immediately met with the musty scents of damp wood mingled with hay. The only sound was the muffled wind scraping against the barn’s exterior. As she continued to catch her breath, her vision began to clear, revealing that right in front of her, taking up nearly all the space in the small building, was a fine, enclosed carriage.
As she gazed upon it, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself instinctively in an effort to warm herself. Mr Darcy responded swiftly. “Please, allow me to assist you into the carriage. You must sit after such a trying experience, and the warmth will do you good,” he said urgently as he gestured towards the vehicle.
She nodded, and Mr Darcy pulled down the step and opened the door, offering his hand to help her climb inside. He followed and sat down opposite her. Relief washed over her as she finally rested. She looked at Mr Darcy and her heart warmed in gratitude towards him for finding her, though not at an inconsiderable risk to himself.
His eyes immediately began to scan her person as he asked, “Are you well? Have you any injuries?”
She took a deep, steadying breath before responding. “I am well. I thank you for finding me, and for bringing me here. How…how could you tell this was here? I could hardly see anything of our surroundings, but you seemed to know exactly where we were.”
“I recognised the copse of trees next to the barn. I have ridden by this area many times and suggested it to Bingley when he told me of his plan to surprise your sister with this carriage. The coach house, as you may know, is undergoing some repairs to its roof, and this barn offered a solution for his plans to keep the carriage hidden.”
“How fortunate,” she said just as a wave of cold overcame her and sent her teeth chattering.
“You must be freezing,” Mr Darcy said immediately. “Let us cover you.”
There were lap rugs and furs folded on one side of the carriage, and he reached over to help arrange them over her. Was it her imagination or did his hand linger a moment too long? Likely not, she decided. He is merely wishing that I should not catch my death.
After he finished and sat down again across from her, she cast a glance at him. His hair was wet, and his cravat dishevelled. He rubbed his hands together briskly, as if attempting to generate warmth.
“You must cover yourself too,” she said earnestly.
He nodded and pulled the remaining lap rug over himself.
They were silent for a few moments until she felt a shiver run through her, despite his coat and the rugs covering her. Her damp gown clinging to her skin offered little comfort.
“I can see you are still cold.” He abruptly rose, his lap rug falling to the floor as he moved across the small space between them, and sat next to her. She looked at him in surprise as her heart raced.
“You will get warm faster if I sit next to you,” he explained, picking up his fallen blanket and laying it around her shoulders.
She nodded and shifted over her heavy lap rug to cover him as well. “Why did you follow me?”
“You left the music room so hastily. I saw you leave the house and was worried about you. I came to find you.”
“I am so sorry.” She put her head in her hands. “I never ought to have left. How regrettable that you should be affected now as well!”
“I am only glad I found you and that you are safe. The winds are quite fierce, but they have brought no new snow, which is most fortunate.”
Elizabeth looked away, feeling a sense of guilt and gratitude towards him. They sat next to each other in silence, and she realised he was correct, she was slowly becoming warmer, as well as growing tired from her exertions in the cold. She stifled a yawn and could not keep her eyes from closing.
“Perhaps you would wish to shut your eyes and rest. Once you awaken, the storm will have subsided, and we will be able to return to the house.”
It was a welcome request; she was, in fact, quite sleepy. She found following his directions far easier than pulling herself from her worries and fears about their safety. Without quite meaning to, she leant against his chest and closed her eyes. He initially stiffened, perhaps in surprise, then quickly relaxed. Then, he lifted his arms to gently cradle her head with one hand and pull her in closer with the other. Even with the wind howling and tree branches scratching on the old barn’s frame, drifting off to sleep in his warm embrace was easier than she had anticipated.
When Elizabeth woke, her head still comfortably ensconced on Mr Darcy’s chest, memories of all that had transpired washed over her. It was brighter inside the carriage, and gazing out the side-glass, she saw sunlight peeking through the barn window. Clearly, the storm had ended. It was quiet now—so very quiet. A pang of worry struck her; she wondered how Jane and the others were faring and whether they were aware of—and anxious about—their absence. However, relief quickly took over as she thought, But now that it is safe to return, any worry will thankfully be short-lived.
Her gown felt mostly dry and she was not cold, bundled as she was in lap blankets and feeling the warmth of another body so close to hers. Mr Darcy’s body. She turned to see if he had fallen asleep as she had, and her insides jumped to see that he was quietly looking down at her.
A rush of feeling flooded through her. She considered asking him how long she had been sleeping, but she did not. Instead, she only looked at him.
Before she realised what she was doing, Elizabeth sat up, turned towards him, and put her arms around his neck. She stared into his eyes and pulled his face close to hers, looking at him for a moment before pressing her lips to his. She pulled back, letting her eyes linger on his for a moment longer.
His expression was inscrutable, but his arms remained around her body, keeping her close to him. Before she could wonder how he felt about what had transpired, he closed the gap between them and kissed her again, deeply. The intensity of it took her by surprise, but she quickly responded with equal fervour.
Nothing she had ever experienced in her life had ever felt so perfect. After everything they had been through, after all these years, they were finally here, losing themselves in this moment. Their ordeal in the storm seemed a distant memory compared to the joy she felt in his embrace; she would endure a thousand storms just to be here with him. As his arms drew her in even closer, she surrendered to everything she had been holding back since he first arrived. She allowed the depths of her feelings, far too profound and frightening to express in words, to flow through their kiss.
As if both simultaneously realising that it may not be wise to continue in such a passionate manner, they drew apart at the same time with ragged breaths. When she opened her eyes to look at him, his face was slightly flushed, but his gaze remained locked on hers. His fingertips tenderly traced her cheek before lightly grazing her neck and falling away. She looked down and gave a small, nervous chuckle. When she looked up again, she saw the eyes she knew so well still looking at her with that familiar intensity. She smiled softly and planted one final, tender kiss on his cheek.
“Shall we get back to the others now?” she asked quietly.
He nodded, and they exited the carriage together. Mr Darcy opened the barn door, and she saw a wonderland of windswept snowdrifts bathed in the gentle light of the early afternoon sun. It appeared as if the winds had blown the snow but no more had fallen, just as Mr Darcy had said. The lane and paths were visible in places, and although the ground was partly frozen, it looked much the same as it generally did, to Elizabeth’s relief.
Mr Darcy took her hand as they began the walk back to Netherfield. They walked hand in hand in comfortable silence, occasionally glancing at each other and smiling. As they approached the house, they entered through a servants’ door, which led directly into a dark, quiet corridor.
“Perhaps we should go different directions from here, to not attract too much attention,” he said quietly.
Nodding, she returned his coat and scarf.
He pulled her to him and gave her a long kiss on her forehead. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner.” Then he gave her a warm look, smiled, and squeezed her hand.
Elizabeth turned away from him and made her way to her room. Once inside, she closed the door and rested her head and back against the door. She slowly slid until she was sitting on the floor, her head in her hands, awash with dismay .
A gnawing feeling had begun to take root soon after they had left the carriage. Initially she could not quite identify it, but as they walked on, their hands clasped, she recognised it. Regret. What had she done, kissing him and encouraging such liberties? She had misled him and had made a grave mistake in so doing. Even if he had changed his mind regarding her suitability as a marriage partner, she could not trust him. Yes, she loved him and yes, she cared about his happiness, but?—
But a woman surrendered a great deal when she married. The entirety of her life, her future, the lives of potential children, was placed into the hands of the man she wed. And she could not trust Mr Darcy.
He might think he loved her now, but what would happen once they married and her family continued to bring embarrassment upon them? Would his affection outlast his mortification? No. Theirs would become a marriage not unlike that of her parents, and she could not bear that. The pain of a husband’s scorn was too much for her. He would surely come to regret marrying her; his love would grow cold. She could not imagine how it might feel to be so discarded by him. Again.
She so fervently wanted to be with him, but logic and wisdom must prevail. For a time, she could not move, frozen by the impossible predicament she was in. Finally, she did the only thing that could release her sorrows: she wept.