Page 67 of A Prudent Engagement

“Sir, is something the matter—I thought nothing of it when she came to wait, but—”

Darcy could scarcely imagine what his face looked like to the good publican. He slightly inclined his head and found his voice with some difficulty. “If Miss Elizabeth has waited so long, I must attend her immediately.”

Up the stairs.

His boots made a loud echoing sound on the wooden floor.

By instinct he knocked softly on the door before lifting the cold brass latch.

The curtains were drawn wide and let in a broad beam of late afternoon sun.

Motes of dust caught the light.

Elizabeth sat at the desk, looking towards him with wide eyes.

She had cried.

She opened and closed her hands, then clasped them together in her lap. It seemed to Darcy that her bright eyes stared at him in a desperate entreaty.

She wore a lovely black dress, and her beauty made his chest ache. She looked so sad and lost.

Scared. Elizabeth looked scared.

He wanted to enfold her in an embrace and promise that nothing bad could ever, ever happen.

What had remained of anger or a sense of betrayal fled from Darcy then.

Only heartsickness remained.

Here was a woman, anxious, sad, and mourning her father.

Without either of them speaking, Darcy pulled an armchair towards where she sat and settled into it.

Her eyes did not leave his face.

“Elizabeth.” His voice was low.

She looked away from him and gripped her hands tightly together.

“Your sister made a surprising communication to me this morning.”

When Elizabeth made no immediate reply, he added, “About your true sentiments towards me.”

“Mr. Darcy, I need to apologise, because I…”

“Because you did what?”

Oh, my poor Elizabeth.

She did not reply. There was tightness in her brow and paleness to her face. Her eyes did not meet his.

“You do not love me. You did not agree to marry me out of a spirit of affection but due to fear.”

She still did not reply.

Then there was a slight nod.

Some little hope that it would come out well was trodden beneath his boots and died.