Chapter 5
Blink
It was three days since her encounter with Mr. Darcy’s apparition. Elizabeth was not certain if what she had experienced was a dream or real.
Perhaps she had fallen asleep on that iron bench in that chestnut copse. Perhaps it had been nothing but her overactive imagination.
Yet, she had not gone for her usual walk since that day. Not since the news.
A shiver crept up Elizabeth’s spine at the thought. She shook it off as best as she could and went back to tossing feed to the Collins’ chickens.
“Are you real?”
Elizabeth screamed—nearly jumping out of her skin!—and dropped the bowl of feed. Mr. Darcy was standing a few feet away from her.
“Mr. Darcy…” she said in a hush. Eyes wide in horror.
“Why do I see you, Miss Bennet?” he asked, voice soft and melancholic.
It was almost as if he was speaking to himself, not her. Elizabeth could only stare at the man.
Her heart thumped loudly within her chest. Blood thundered past her ears, and within her veins. He was still dressed in the same clothes as the day she had spoken to him under the cherry trees.
She squeezed her eyes shut. And then opened them after a few moments. He was still there.
“Are you… real?” Elizabeth whispered.
Her hands were trembling. She closed her fingers in a fist to stop the shivers.
“Why do I see you, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy asked, instead. Again. A forlorn note in his voice.
Their eyes met.
“How is this possible?” Elizabeth whispered.
There was a faintness to Mr. Darcy’s outline in the sunlight that she had not noticed before. They looked at each other for a long moment. Silence stretched between them, even with the chicken clucking nearby.
“I keep looking for others,” Mr. Darcy said. “But I only find you…”
His voice wrapped around her. Too intimately for her liking. Elizabeth steeled herself, drawing herself straight. A frown etched itself between her brows.
“Mr. Darcy, I do not know what you mean, but I would appreciate it if you would desist from haunting me!”
His eyes widened then, piercing her with his full attention.
“Haunting you?”
Elizabeth looked to the grass near her feet. The hens were clustered around the fallen seeds, busy pecking. How did one go about breaking the news of a death to the very person in question?
Elizabeth felt her heart squeeze. No matter her dislike for the man, she had to do it. She looked up, face paling.
“Mr. Darcy… sir… what do you remember?”
He tilted his head to one side.
“Remember?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks coloured. “What was the last thing you remember… before your… current predicament?”
“My predicament?” He frowned. “I do not understand.”
Elizabeth bit her lip.
“You said you keep looking for others but you can not find them.”
She felt as if she was bumbling about like a donkey in a barn, but she hoped she would get wherever the conversation needed to go… eventually.
Why did she have to do this task?! Could not have Mr. Darcy chosen to haunt someone else?
Lady Catherine perhaps?
A distant look appeared in Mr. Darcy’s eyes.
“I was in my carriage with Fitzwilliam,” he said. His brows furrowed. “We had crossed the Dunhill bridge… and there was a… rapidly approaching carriage opposite us…”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened. His eyes focused on Elizabeth again.
“There was a loud snap and…” Shock swept across his face. He stared.
“...my God!”
Elizabeth gasped as Mr. Darcy disappeared again.