Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
The next morning, Elizabeth was dozing next to Mary when Sarah knocked on the door and whispered, “A visitor for you, miss. A Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth bolted up, and felt pinches in her back from having slept awkwardly once Mary had settled. She had promised not to leave her sister that night, and had been as good as her word.
Mary stirred only to roll a bit to the side, and Elizabeth scurried into the corridor.
“Sarah, please tell Mr Darcy I shall be down in a moment.”
Elizabeth ran for her room, taking hold of a favourite gown, and remembered it was the same one she was wearing the first time she and Darcy had kissed.
It was under that same canopy in the woods where she had taken him just the day prior, just before Mr Wickham had arrived and ruined their celebration.
She was determined to make today joyful for them both, and hoped Mary would remain in bed and not begin labour, ruining another day of joy.
They all had to hope that the child would not come for at least another month, for they were assured it might then be born healthy.
One month.
One month until the baby could be born.
One month until she would become Mrs Darcy.
One month until her life would be changed forever.
She ran a brush through her hair, tugging at tangles and snapping more than a few strands in her haste.
Finally, she took hold of pins and a ribbon and pulled it back satisfactorily.
The puffiness of her eyes could not be helped, but she rinsed her mouth, grabbed slippers that were not stained, and hurried down the stairs.
Mr Darcy looked up at her with relief, and she could not be sure if it was at the very sight of her or because she could now be a buffer between him and her mother, who was fluttering about him in the entryway.
He stretched out his hands and she clasped them happily.
“Mama, would you leave us for a while?”
Though she looked put out, she obliged.
Darcy brushed her face with the knuckles of his good hand, and she sighed. “Did you sleep well, Elizabeth?” She lied and said she had, and he added, “I have yet to grow accustomed to the less formal address.”
“I have yet to grow accustomed to the idea of being a wife, but I relish the idea of being your wife.” She smiled and reached for his bad hand, inspecting it. “It is bruised terribly,” she said, tracing her lips along the purple and red knuckles.
“If I knew bruises would bring on kisses, I should have hurt myself long ago.” They laughed.
She brought him into the parlour and they sat upon the sofa, hips touching as the day before, fingers laced. She could not believe the freedom that an engagement brought, and knew that marriage would bring more. She wished the wedding could be that very day.
“How is Mrs Collins?” he asked
She explained that the pains had ceased, and he looked relieved. Her worry for her sister’s troubles seemed less acute now that he was here beside her.
“I hope,” he said, “it is acceptable that I called. You must be exhausted after last night.”
She nodded but offered reassurances.
A knock at the front door surprised them, but not as much as her neighbour, Mr Goulding, being announced, along with his desire to speak with Darcy.
Mrs Hill entered with their guest, and Mama and Papa just after.
Mr Goulding looked about at the crowd, and said, “I had hoped to find you alone at Netherfield…” He swallowed.
“Darcy, the coroner has called an inquest, and your presence is required.” He paused and his eyes locked with Darcy’s as if expecting a reaction.
When there was none, he added, “Wickham is dead.”
Elizabeth blinked. That man was detestable and she was not sorry to hear of his demise, but what would it have had to do with Darcy?
“You must come with me.”
Darcy remained still, his fists clenched.
“Darcy,” murmured Mr Goulding.
“I-I am suspected?”
Mr Goulding’s eyes flicked to each Bennet before he nodded to Darcy. “Come along, man. Face the inquest and clear your name.”
Mama gasped. “Inquest?”
“There must be some mistake,” offered Papa.
But Elizabeth stood silent, feeling cold even on this warm day.
This could not be. There had to be some error.
And what of their engagement?
What if— What if he was guilty?