41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Elizabeth knew she had eaten dinner. Several spots on her dress attested to the fact. Papa would tease her so if he knew. What she had eaten, to whom she had spoken and what might have been said, all took place in a far off country for all the memory she retained of them.

All she remembered was Darcy's face across the table from her, every blink, every twitch of his lips, every glance in her direction that made her heart flutter and her tongue tie around her teeth. How was it possible to desire to see someone so much and to be so discomposed at his unexpected arrival? Surely she had spoken during the meal, but what she had said would forever be a mystery to her.

She hated to hear it and yet was relieved when Bingley and Darcy announced that they must depart early, for there was business to be done the next day. As soon as the front door closed, she fled to her room, shut the door firmly behind her and blew out all the candles. Not even Jane or Papa would be welcome right now. Her thoughts raced too fast, and she had to bring them under some semblance of control before she could trust herself to speak to anyone.

How could hebe here? Of course, he was Bingley's friend. It made sense he should be here to stand up with Bingley. Naturally Bingley would not have wanted to tell Jane of his plans. Had she given any thought to the matter, she might have guessed.

She paced the room, a high strung filly penned in a stall in a thunder storm. She tossed her head, snorting, and pawed at the ground, all to no avail. The maddening thoughts and unsettling emotions would not abate. They closed her in more tightly. Still she must wait, though she could barely breathe.

Finally Papa's door shut. The whole family was settled in to sleep.

She threw on a morning dress, laced her half boots and grabbed her heaviest coat. Woe to anything that stood between her and freedom. She tore down the stairs and to the stable. The full moon, as bright as day on the early winter landscape, made her steps sure.

The heavy stable door fought her. For a moment she wondered if it had been barred from within. Foolish thing, she would find a way to get inside. After much heaving and grunting, it relented. Her breath came in sharp pants. Sweat trickled down her face. She brushed it away, leaving an itchy smudge on her cheek. It mattered little; she would soon be free to outrun the tormenting pressure in her mind.

Toppur nickered at her and danced in his stall. He tossed his head as if sharing her restlessness.

"You have been too much confined too, have you not, boy?" She patted his cheek and turned to remove her saddle from the wall. "I have as well. We will remedy that in just a moment. You must stand still though."

The cold settled into her fingers and left them thick and clumsy. An eternity passed before the saddle was properly settled on Toppur's back. She gathered his reins in her hands. He nearly jerked them from her grasp when he tossed his head. The hot breath from his frustrated snort heated her fingers.

"Patience, my friend, just a little longer." She led him outside to the mounting block.

Toppur tossed his head again. His front hooves struck a tattoo on the hard ground.

"I know, it has been too long since we have ridden. Do not scold me so." She stroked his neck. Freedom was within her grasp. Everything within ached with longing.

He snorted and butted her shoulder.

"Do not tease me for being too short to mount without something to stand on. It is not my fault you are far too tall to be a ladies' mount. Now, be still for just a moment more." She grabbed the saddle and swung herself up.

Toppur danced uneasily for a moment as she found her seat. He soon settled in as though he remembered her weight on his back.

She kicked his side and urged him into a fast walk. She soon found his rhythm and began to move seamlessly with his gait. At her unconscious suggestion, he moved into a trot, the ground flying under his feet.

The winds scoured her face, ripping her hair from its braid. Tendrils slapped her cheeks and left a stinging reprimand behind, reminding her that a lady does not ride this way. Her lips parted, cheeks bunching into something that felt half smile, half snarl.

"If only I had learnt to be a lady, I might care," she muttered, urging Toppur toward Willard's field. "But as it is, I do not. Perhaps tomorrow I can learn, tonight I will be free."

As soon as the open reaches of the field came into view, Toppur launched into a full gallop. His long legs extended fully, churning faster and faster. The silvery brightness birthed strange shadows in the skeletal trees at the edges of the field. Lizzy was certain she saw movement from the corner of her eye. The stallion tensed beneath her, his pace increased still. Whipping her head over her shoulder, she saw the dark forms of another horse and rider gaining upon her.

Her racing heart beat even faster, so fast she wondered if it would leave her chest. She whooped in delight and leaned down over Toppur's neck. "You are the wind, my friend, no one can catch you!" She dug her heels into his side and urged him on.

Still the shadowy black forms gained on them. Toppur extended his neck and and eeked out a little more speed.

Their pursuers were undeterred. They pulled alongside. The two horses matched each other's pace and cornered around the field as one. Their hooves fell in tandem, the wave of their gaits flowed together. For the length of the field and around the next turn, the horses moved as a single unit, powerful, master of their environs. Royals invested fortunes to train mounts to do what these did of their own accord.

Their strength gave out before their determination. As a unit, they slowed through the next turn and the next. As they began a new lap around the field, the two horses were down to a fast walk.

Lizzy kept her eyes focused ahead of her, unprepared to look at the other rider. Only one person could have joined her on that ride. She felt his gaze on her, an ethereal caress that whispered something that was just barely out of hearing.

Could she bear to listen?

Could she bear to ignore? She pondered the question for two more long laps.

The horses approached the stream and stopped to permit their riders to dismount. Lizzy swung her leg over and slid down. She intended to keep the horses between herself and the other. Darcy's large hands circled her waist, steadying her descent. She was fully capable of—the protest faded with her awareness of the trembling that gripped all her limbs. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, she tried to move away, but he would not release her.

"Please wait." His eyes pleaded.

She could not find it in her to deny him.

"I should have found a way to let you know that I was coming, to ask your permission. I thought Bingley would have told you, but in retrospect I see that was not reasonable. He is not one to remember such details. You must not hold it against him."

"Of course. I believe he may have even thought himself being helpful." She panted, still trying to catch her breath. She swept her hair from her face, trying to tuck wild strands back away from her face. As she tamed one, another fought itself free. So she gave up and just shook it out of her eyes.

He caught her hand and led her to the fallen log. "I had no idea you would be out at such a time."

She sat beside him and kept her eyes on the drinking horses. Meeting his gaze took more strength than she had in this moment. "Neither did I. I have no doubt that Papa would not approve. He barely tolerates my riding Toppur. It is a topic we agree not to raise at all."

"I certainly see why. Few men would dare ride that stallion. He is a spirited creature." Darcy chuckled thinly.

"You alone can attest to that fact. I know no other who has ridden him." She dared a brief glance at him. "Even with Toppur to guard me, Papa would never approve of my riding him out at night. He allows me a great deal of freedom, but this, I fear would push him too far." She looked down at her hands that had somehow become tightly clenched in her lap.

"And yet you are here." He edged slightly closer to her.

"I am." She summoned her courage and lifted her eyes to his. "You know my impetuous nature. I could not stay indoors a moment longer."

"My presence has so discomposed you?" Back lit by the moon, his expression was difficult to discern.

"Yes." She looked toward the horses. They stood nose to nose, nickering softly, in a conference of their own. "I notice that you are here as well."

"So I am. I confess it is for much the same reason. Your presence is entirely disconcerting."

The silence filled the space between them, growing larger with each passing moment, pushing them farther and father until he knew if he did not speak immediately, she would not be able to hear him across the chasm. "I did not get Charles's letter until after Georgiana's wedding. After you had left." He tried to soften the bite in his words, not sure if he wanted her to know that much, not yet at least. "I did not decide to come until just yesterday."

"What convinced you?" The moonlight reflected in her eyes and glowed off her fine skin. What was that look she wore, dare he believe the softness in it might be for him?

He swallowed hard. Pressure built in his chest, words he longed to speak and did not dare. If he tried to speak he might lose control.

"Sir?"

He shook his head and drew a deep breath. "Georgiana told me what you said to her before the wedding." He pushed off the log and took several steps away. He gulped in cold air, but the truth burned too hot. He whirled to face her. "That taught me to hope as I could not hope before."

He studied her face. The softness remained, and her eyes glittered. Could it be?

"You are too good to trifle with me, Elizabeth. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. But one word will silence me on the matter forever, I assure you. I will not continue to haunt you. I came not for Charles, but for you and you alone. I could not give you up, not yet."

She blinked rapidly and caught her upper lip in her teeth.

He fought not to smile, his heart rushing into its own trot. "I was going to talk to you again after the wedding, but you had already left—you abandoned me. I could not leave you so easily. Dare I tell what it did to me to look in your room and find you gone?"

She bit her lip and bowed her head. "I know it was cowardly of me. I am—" Her breath hitched.

No! He did not want to see her cry. He rushed to her side and knelt in the dirt beside her. "Please, tell me. Are you feelings unchanged from that awful night at Rosings, or do I have some hope, some chance at being able to convince you I am a man worth your trust?"

The words hung in the cold, clear air, filling the space between them with a crystalline barrier that would shatter in one word or solidify into a prison with another. His heart clenched, aching with each beat.

She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. "You would still have me despite what I told you, despite knowing my shame? Do you believe I can be trusted? You deserve—"

"I know what you are." He caught her hands, enveloping them in his. Her fingers were so cold through her gloves. He lifted them to his face and pressed them to his cheeks to warm them.

She tried to pull away but relented and cupped her hands to his face. Her thumbs gazed the crest of his cheeks. He held his breath, lest he frighten her away.

"You are a woman whose strength and courage I admire. A woman whose wit and intelligence I delight in. A woman who occupies my thoughts, day and night. The only one who sees you differently from that is you." He edged too close for secrets. A turn of his head brought his lips to her hand, and he kissed her palm. "Please, Elizabeth…"

She pressed her palms to his cheeks in an embrace that stole the last fragments of his breath. "My feelings are so very different—"

He jumped to his feet and swept her into his arms. The horses snorted.

"But you have not even heard how they have changed!" She pushed his chest hard enough to make him afraid he misunderstood.

He held her more tightly, pulling his head back so he could peer into her face. "I can see it in your eyes. If you had determined to refuse me you would have already told me in no uncertain terms and probably stolen my horse to get away." His smile widened.

"You can surely believe that of me." She surrendered to his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. "My feelings are so very different." Her voice was a caress.

"Tell me." He pressed a kiss into her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I was wrong to call you untrustworthy. I cannot believe how every wrong I was." She shook her head, hiding her face in his shoulder. "Can you forgive me for maligning you so?"

He gulped against the tightness in his throat and nodded against her.

"The care you showed me after my cousin turned me out, and not just me, but Charlotte as well, proved your character beyond any doubt. I was wrong to accuse you as I did. I see now you never were engaged to Anne, not a real engagement."

He shuddered. "Only in the minds of my aunt and cousin. Not even the Matlocks ever expected it to happen." A grim laugh escaped.

"So you had nothing to tell me. Nor had you any reason to conceive of me/y? ever meeting Lady Catherine or her daughter." She laughed.

Was there a sound he treasured more? If so, he could not name it.

"With so many secrets of my own, it was hypocritical of me to call you out for yours." She peeked at him, her brow furrowed.

He pressed his cheek to her forehead. "I should have told you. It was wrong for me to have hidden that from you, whatever my reasons. Please, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, forgive me."

"I do. I only ask that you forgive me as well."

He answered her with a kiss that shook all doubt from her heart and branded her soul.

"You will marry me then?" He held his breath, his body stiffened, waiting.

"Indeed, I will." She felt the tension pour out of him, and for a moment his knees gave way. He leaned on her for support.

He straightened himself and squared his shoulders. "And your father, what of him? Shall I make arrangements for him at Pemberly?"

"Not yet, I think. He got along well enough while I was at Kent." She swallowed back the sadness. Tears burned her eyes. But no, this was as it should be, for all of them. "Jane and Bingley will be nearby."

"You know, he will always be welcome with us. Any of your sisters, as well."

"It would be lovely for him to have a particular room for his use when he visits, as I am sure he will be wont to do. It would help him to have a familiar place that will not change. I know he will not want us to forbid the movement of furniture, as your aunt did." She laughed softly. "But for now, I think he would like to remain in his own home." Her eyebrow lifted, and she peered into his face. "That is an odd thing to bring up just now, do you not think?"

"Hardly." He kissed her forehead. "I was merely ascertaining what stood between us and a wedding. It appears there is less than I feared. I do not want to wait for the wedding."

"You are a very impatient man, sir. I should say it will take six months at least to arrange—"

"Elizabeth!" His eyes bulged. "You have kept me waiting far too long as it is."

She pursed her lips in a struggle not to laugh.

"Do not tease me! With all you have put me through, I insist on this point."

"I am sorry, that was cruel." She caressed his cheek, and ran her fingers along his brow until the furrowed lines smoothed.

"I talked to you before of the possibility of a double wedding."

"You cannot be serious." She gasped and pulled back to stare at him. "I understand you are impatient, but you must be reasonable."

"I am perfectly serious. I have a special license and settlement papers to offer your father. The dress you wore for Georgiana's wedding is stunning ,and if you would not mind being married in that, what more is there it arrange?" His heart raced. "I am entirely certain that Bingley and your sister will be overjoyed with the idea. He has been a most vocal advocate of our union to me as I suspect your sister has been to you."

"You are serious. You really think we can be married in two days?"

"I will go talk to your father right now if it pleases you."

"He is sleeping, and I will not awaken him for this." She scowled, though she knew it was hardly an intimidating expression.

"I will sleep on your doorstep to be there the first moment of the morning to speak to him then. I think it a brilliant plan." He bent to kiss her long and hard enough that her objections were forgotten in the heat of his passion.

"I do not believe I will be able to deny you anything, Mr. Darcy." Her voice was a heated, breathy whisper that spoke what she did not know how to say.

"That will be a very good thing indeed."