Mr. Bennet replied, “We had a carriage accident,and Lizzy was knocked unconscious. It appears she is suffering from amnesia.”
Darcy felt Bingley’s hand on his shoulder, offering comfort, but what comfort could be found when his bride did not remember him?
Mr. Bennet added, “Her mind is strong, and I have no doubt she will be well on the morrow.”
“The morrow!” wailed Mrs. Bennet.
“If not sooner,” Mr. Bennet added quickly. “We must be patient. Her mind is too sound to suffer such a privation of memory for long. You are much too important to her to remain forgotten, Darcy.”
Darcy supposed he ought to take some comfort in Mr. Bennet’s reassurances. But the one dominating fact stared him unwaveringly in the face. She had forgotten him. Him. If he was so important to Elizabeth, why was he the one person she had forgotten?
The vicar joined them, bringing with him an echo of whispers. “I fear we will not finish before noon if we do not begin the ceremony soon.”
Though Elizabeth held her head high, her shoulders slumped. Darcy saw the tears swelling in her eyes, and he had to resist the urge to pull her into his arms. She had shoved him away quickly enough earlier, rejecting his comfort.
Turning to the clergyman, Darcy asked, “Please, only one minute more, I beg you.”
He reached for Elizabeth’s hand as he had grown accustomed to do, only to be reminded once again thatall of their history had been erased when she stared at him and withdrew her hand. Another blow.
Gritting his teeth and stiffening his shoulders, Darcy said, “Let us give Elizabeth some space. Mr. Bennet, will you please join us for a moment?”
When the three of them stood just outside the building, Darcy sucked in a breath and asked, “How long was Elizabeth unconscious?”
“No more than a minute or two. Only long enough for the footman and I to carry her to the side of the road.”
Darcy did not know much about head injuries, but he knew that the shorter the loss of consciousness, the better. A minute or two was not too bad, was it?
Elizabeth twisted her fingers in front of her. Darcy wished there was something he could do to reassure her, but until he understood the extent of her injury, he refused to draw conclusions. She would be well, and that was that. He would make sure of it.
Softly, he asked, “Do you remember anyone else?” he gestured to the seated assembly, most of whom were twisted in their pew to look at them.
Darcy tried not to place too much significance on her reply, but he held his breath all the same.
One by one, starting with the nearest row, she named every guest sitting inside the cold, stone church … excepting a few who had recently come from London, friends of Bingley.
When she finished, she asked, “Do you wish for meto continue? Or will you believe me when I tell you I know everybody? I could tell you how I met them as well as my general impression of their characters.” Her eyelashes fluttered and she chewed on her lip. “But I do not remember anything about you. I am sorry. I know I must, but I feel as though I am seeing you for the first time, Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Darcy. Not Fitzwilliam. She did not even know his name, or if she did, she no longer felt free to pronounce it. This was much worse than he had thought possible. How could his bride — his Elizabeth — not know him?
Mrs. Bennet would not be consoled, insisting between gasps of breath and ultimatums that Elizabeth marry him anyway.
Elizabeth heard her. She could not help but hear her, and her reaction broke Darcy’s heart. Elizabeth was stubborn for the people she loved. It was one of the traits he most appreciated, her unwavering loyalty, her eagerness to defend others. But it was not so endearing when he was no longer included in her circle.
He watched her stiffen in determination, he heard the tremble in her breath, and he saw her blink back her tears, and he knew in that instant he could do nothing to add to his bride’s distress. She may not remember him, but he loved her still, and he would do whatever it took to help her recover.
Addressing Elizabeth and her father, Darcy said, “May I suggest we postpone our wedding until a more favorable time?” To Elizabeth, he added, “I would never force you to do anything you do not wish to do. I will wait.” The words were painful to choke out, but Darcy was grateful he had said them when Elizabeth’s expression softened.
“Thank you,” she said.
Mr. Bennet wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “That is very generous of you, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy’s heart ached when she leaned against her father for support instead of him. “I could do nothing less for the woman I love. I mean it, Elizabeth. I will wait for you. As long as it takes.”
Her eyes searched his face. Darcy watched, praying she would find what she searched for, waiting for the moment when her face lit up with recognition.
But the moment did not come, and while Darcy could have stood there all day waiting for it, he did not wish to delay Bingley and Miss Bennet’s happiness any longer.
Mrs. Bennet’s vigorous exclamations had weakened to whimpers. Even the buzz of the curious onlookers had dulled into a thick silence. Like a wake.
