She let out a long breath. For days she had carried that fear like a stone lodged in her chest. It lifted now so suddenly that she felt almost light-headed.
"Oh... thank God."
Darcy watched the relief pass across her face with quiet satisfaction. "There is more," he continued gently. "The carriage has been recovered. It suffered some damage, but the blacksmith has already repaired one wheel and expects to finish the remainder today. Mr Frost intends to collect you tomorrow morning."
Only moments before Elizabeth had longed to escape the inn. Now the idea that she would do so within a few hours felt impossible to process. The peculiar little world they had inhabited together—the storm, the borrowed names, the shared room, the whispered conversations by firelight—would vanish as completely as the storm itself.
She lowered her eyes, unable to bear his gaze. "I am very grateful that you continued the search," she mumbled
"There was never any question of abandoning it." His voice was hesitant now, unsure what had spurred this change in hercountenance. He knelt before her, an echo of an earlier evening and placed a gentle hand beneath her chin, raising her eyes to meet his. Neither said anything for a beat or two, and the tears that she had been unable to cry since she had reached the room threatened to spill out. She jerked her head away and he rose suddenly, stepping back and placing his hands behind his back. The simple joy with which he had entered the room now vanished.
His hand remained suspended in the air for the briefest instant after she turned away, as though he could not quite understand why she had recoiled from him. Only then did he let it fall and take a step backwards.
Darcy stared at her in bewilderment. Barely an hour earlier she had smiled across the courtyard with such warmth that he had thought himself the happiest man in England. Now she shrank from the lightest touch, as though his hand had become something to fear. He searched desperately through the conversation for the offence he must unknowingly have given, but found none. He had brought her the news she had longed for above all others, yet instead of joy it seemed to have brought the deepest unhappiness.
"Miss Bennet..." he said carefully. "Has something happened?"
"No."
"But last night… forgive me… I do not think that is true."
She flinched as he referred to the previous night and his stomach dropped to his boots. For a moment he thought she might say more. He saw the struggle plainly in her face, saw her lips part as though words had risen to them of their own accord. But almost immediately she mastered herself.
"I believe everything has caught up with me at once," she said, attempting a smile that did not reach her eyes. "The anxiety... my illness... I find myself rather tired today, that is all."
Darcy was unconvinced. Nothing in her manner resembled simple fatigue. There was a fragility about her that had not been there yesterday, a reserve that seemed to have sprung up between them in the space of a few short hours. Yet he could hardly press her when she so plainly wished him gone.
"I am sorry," he said quietly. "I had hoped the news might bring you some comfort."
"It does."
She managed a steadier smile this time, though there was sadness in it that puzzled him all the more.
"It brings me a great deal of comfort."
He inclined his head, accepting the dismissal she was too kind to state aloud. "Then I shall leave you to rest."
Elizabeth nodded. But misery etched across her face. He lingered for a moment, reluctant to go, before bowing and quietly withdrawing from the room.
The door closed behind him, and Elizabeth remained sitting exactly where he had left her. Only then did the composure she had clung to desperately desert her. She sank her face into the bed clothes, the tears she had fought throughout the conversation coming at last. It seemed monstrous that the news she had prayed for since the day the storm began should have brought her so little comfort. Mr and Mrs Frost were safe. By this time tomorrow she would almost certainly be on her way to her aunt and uncle in London. Yet instead of relief she felt only a crushing certainty that she had found the one man she could ever love, only to discover, far too late, that she was no longer worthy of being loved by him in return.
Darcy remained where he was for several moments after the door had closed behind him, his head resting on the door. He was sure he heard quiet sobs from beyond. Every fibre of him longed to rush back into the room and take her in his arms. But it seemed he was the cause of her pain. He had felt it almost from the instant Elizabeth looked at him. The warmth that had passed so naturally between them that morning had vanished, replaced by a reserve that was so foreign to her nature that he could not begin to imagine what had happened to cause it.
He replayed the conversation as he made his way slowly back along the corridor, examining every word. Had he presumed too much after the previous night? Had his happiness been so obvious that he had frightened and overwhelmed her? She had thanked him for the news of the Frosts with perfect civility, yet there had been a distance in her manner that he could not understand nor ignore.
Then a more terrifying thought crept in. Had he taken advantage of her? In the cold light of day, did she now see him as no better than a rake and a scoundrel? He should never have accepted her invitation. However innocent his intentions, he had lain beside an unmarried lady, kissed her and held her in his arms until morning. What gentleman worthy of the name placed a woman in such a position? If she regretted the previous night, then the fault rested entirely with him.
He descended the stairs without seeing them, so consumed by the thought that he walked almost directly into Burke, who stepped smartly aside to avoid a collision.
"Beg pardon, sir."
Darcy murmured something that might have been an apology and would have continued past had Burke not spoken again.
"Mrs Goose asked me to enquire whether you'd still be requiring the spare chamber tonight, sir. She's had another three rooms become vacant now most of the guests have departed."
The question seemed oddly timed, though Darcy scarcely gave it any thought. Until that moment he had imagined returning to the room he and Elizabeth had shared. Now the prospect filled him with dread. He could not endure another evening wondering whether his very presence caused her pain.
"Yes," he replied after only the briefest pause. "Another room will do very well."
