A rush of something—something overwhelming, something fierce—rose in his chest, nearly knocking the air from his lungs. He had gone from cold terror to relief so quickly that he felt almost ill from it.
He had not lost her.
Not yet.
He could barely trust himself to nod his thanks to the man before spurring his horse forward once more, now tearing toward the pastures.
Thelastoftheirapples had been eaten, the crumbs of their meager luncheon scattered by the wind. The sun was pleasantly warm, the breeze cool, and Elizabeth was feeling, for the first time in days, a sense of peace. Jane was finally laughing at all the funny ways she had conjured up to flirt with Mr. Bingley, finally letting herself hope. The world felt wide and open, stretching out before them with golden fields and endless sky.
And then—
A sharp movement at the crest of the hill.
Elizabeth twisted in the grass, shading her eyes against the sun. A lone rider had come upon them, his dark coat unmistakable even at a distance.
She blinked as her mouth dropped open.
Oh, surely not.
But yes, yes, there he was. Darcy dismounted in one swift, fluid motion, his boots hitting the grass hard enough to make an audible thump, even at this distance. His movements were tightly controlled, but she could see it—the wrath boiling in his frame, the rigidity of his shoulders.
Something was wrong.
Beside her, Jane sat up. “Is that Mr. Darcy? What is he doing here?”
Darcy’s head snapped toward Jane as he closed the distance to them, as if only just registering her presence. He inclined his head in something resembling civility, but his gaze cut sharply back to Elizabeth almost immediately.
Her stomach twisted.
That look.
She knew that look.
Oh dear.
Darcy drew a breath as he halted before them, his skin mottled with barely restrained feeling. His words were clipped, each syllable deliberate. “Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth rose to her feet, brushing stray grass from her skirts. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, affecting lightness, though her heart had begun to hammer. “What an unexpected surprise. We heard you had gone back to London. Have you come to join our afternoon’s excursion?”
He did not answer.
Instead, he took another step forward, looking as though he were fighting the urge to grab her by the arm and haul her bodily back toward Longbourn.
Elizabeth arched a brow.
Well, then.
Jane, dear, oblivious Jane, looked between them, her brow creased with worry. “Is everything quite well, sir?”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. He bowed his head briefly. “Forgive me for being the bearer of unpleasant tidings. You are wanted at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth folded her arms. “For what purpose?”
The muscle in his jaw jumped. “Because you were expected elsewhere.”
Something cold dripped down Elizabeth’s spine.
Expected.
