Chapter 58
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Darcy heard the words but could not believe them.
He had been planning details for his own funeral, and now he was free.
Across the room, Elizabeth was beaming. Goulding was patting him on his shoulder, Sir William offered a nod, and he heard words of congratulations, but he could neither speak nor move.
“Come,” said Goulding, “before the coroner changes his mind.”
“You have nothing to fear on that score,” said Mr Brown, coming towards them. He took Darcy’s hand and shook it. “I am sorry for having taken your time, sir. It was my duty to investigate.”
Darcy nodded, but could not yet find his voice.
Elizabeth was at his side. “Thank heavens!” She threw her arms around his neck, and at last he felt himself surfacing from the nightmare.
He rose and cleared his throat. “Let us depart.” He, Elizabeth, and Goulding walked out of the building and into the fresh air.
Fresh air was something he had feared he might never experience again. Panic gripped him again as if he were headed for a dank prison cell rather than freedom. His steps faltered, and Elizabeth squeezed his hand.
She looked at him and seemed to understand without asking what was the matter.
“The carriage,” she said urgently to Goulding.
In moments, Goulding had the couple ensconced within and was telling the coachman to make haste for Longbourn, saying he would look in on Darcy later. Darcy could not respond.
He held himself very still until they were away from the village.
Then he hammered on the roof. Before the footman could even open the door to the stopped carriage, he leapt out and raced for the trees.
Gasping for air, he crashed through the underbrush, needing seclusion, needing air. Air. More air.
“Darcy!” he heard behind him. Elizabeth was following. He could not turn to her. Not when he knew tears were streaming down his face. He stumbled and fell to his knees.
He felt her at his side, heard her jagged breaths. “Darcy, what—” She paused. “Oh, my dearest.” She knelt, wiping his face, then kissing at the tears. Then she buried her face in his neck and wept herself.
They held each other. Then he kissed her temple.
Then her cheek. Her lips. Her neck. He breathed her in, a pleasure he had felt certain he would be robbed of forever.
He was kissing her again. Kissing every inch of skin he could reach, grasping at her, pulling her to him, wanting her closer, closer, wanting to be one with her.
She froze. “We…we should not…”
No.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth.” He was too ashamed to meet her eyes.
“I—It has been too much today. I…think it best if I…” His mind was racing.
He had to get away from the temptation of her.
“I must leave for town.” He looked into her bewildered face.
“I do not trust myself with you. The banns will be read, and we shall wed in a month. Yes. I must go.”
As if in a stupor, Elizabeth nodded slightly.
“Good. Good.” He scrambled to his feet and began to walk towards the carriage, but when she did not follow, he turned.
Her face was suffused with fear and he realised his error.
“I do love you.” He came back to her and took her hands in his.
“I love you so much that I cannot remain where I cannot touch you and be with you every moment of every day. I must wrest from my mind the fear that all will vanish—I have been terrified—I thought I would lose you. And-and…you are too tempting. This is best, my love. I…I hope you understand.”