Chapter 25
Unspoken
When Elizabeth stepped into her room upstairs, she realized she was not alone.
“Mr. Darcy!” she said, startled.
She quickly glanced behind her in the corridor. No one had heard her. But Maria and Janet were discussing something at the head of the stairs.
She quickly closed the door. Then she turned back to face him. The two of them stared at each other.
Elizabeth could feel her face beginning to warm.
Had he heard her earlier? When she was speaking to Charlotte?
She cleared her throat.
“When did you arrive?”
She stepped deeper into the room and set her reticule on a side table.
“Just some…” Mr. Darcy paused. “Uh… now.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. Was Mr. Darcy lying? Her face warmed some more.
“I was at Rosings,” she said.
“Yes.”
He blushed immediately. And then added, “I heard Mr. Collins…”
Elizabeth could feel herself blushing even more furiously now. He was lying! She was certain.
“Well, then.” She did not know what to say.
Her gaze flitted around the room, never staying on anything in particular. Not the curtains. Not the floorboards. Not the writing desk. Most definitely not on Mr. Darcy!
“How was your dinner?” he asked.
Their eyes met.
Elizabeth could feel her face burning. Flaming. An inferno! She had the sudden desire to run outside and walk, and walk, and walk in the night chill until she was an icicle instead.
“It was… pleasant.”
They stared at each other.
“I was–”
“Did you–”
They spoke at the same time.
Both blushed furiously once more.
“You first, Miss Bennet,” he said.
“Oh… no, it is not of…” Elizabeth started, before trailing off. She gazed at Mr. Darcy.
At his dark eyes. The proud, aristocratic nose. The familiar curl of hair on one side of his forehead. The shape of his chin. Her heart squeezed.
She stood frozen. Unable to look away.
She had never felt this way before.
…and soon it would not matter.
“It is of no import…” Elizabeth said at last. Her voice was just a touch above a whisper—strained with the effort to not let her sorrow seep in.
She would never see him again.
Elizabeth knew she had not succeeded when Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened. He took a step towards her. And then he stopped. He looked unsure of what to do with his hands.
Bitterness washed across his features. He dropped his gaze, fixing it on the floor between them.
It had never felt more like a chasm to Elizabeth.
“I should… let you refresh yourself,” he said.
“No,” she said, at once.
Mr. Darcy looked up in surprise.
Elizabeth shrugged. A weak smile appeared on her face, even as she clutched at her skirts. She walked to the writing desk, stepping around him.
“I think we should finish your letter to Miss Darcy.”