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“Since the minute I left Hunsford Parsonage,” he said in a low voice. Elizabeth had no response, and her face was blank. He could not guess her thoughts. Did he sound desperate to her ears? Was she eager to escape his pathetic importuning?
“I have taken up enough of your time,” he said, standing. “You should sleep in preparation for your journey tomorrow.”
He strode purposefully for the door, intent on an immediate exit. But he could not deprive himself of one last glimpse of her, sitting by the window, her face illuminated by the golden glow of the candle. She rose to her feet, dark curls tumbling around her shoulders.
And he was lost.
No one could expect him to resist the power of those curls. After all, I am only human. He closed the distance between them, plunging his hands into the dark mass of hair and tilting her head back so she could receive his kiss.
“Elizabeth!” he moaned against her lips. They parted to admit his tongue just as her body molded itself to his. Elizabeth’s mind might be divided in her opinion of him, but her body had made a firm decision. The marital bed with Elizabeth would be…exquisite. His hands roamed around her back and shoulders, traced the soft skin of her neck. For an instant he allowed himself a brief moment of hope.
But he quickly suppressed that feeling. This was farewell. He could taste it on her lips. Somehow he knew he would not see her again soon—if ever. He tried to savor the taste of her lips, the scent of her skin, the feel of her under his fingers—to memorize it and tattoo it upon his heart. He must stow away these memories to sustain him throughout the long, lonely months and years ahead.
Far too soon she stepped away from him, her chest heaving. “You must leave now.”
Darcy nodded, temporarily incapable of speech. Releasing his hold on Elizabeth’s shoulder was difficult…almost physically painful. He did not want to surrender this last point of contact with her.
Finally, he forced his hands down to his sides and edged toward the door. “Do not lose the paper. Anytime. Anywhere. I promise.”
She gave him a bittersweet smile. “I will not. I will not forget, William.”
Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth’s departure from the inn in the morning was rapid and somber. Colonel Fitzwilliam bid her adieu with promises to visit should he ever be in Hertfordshire. Then he stepped away to give Mr. Darcy some private time with her, but the master of Pemberley hid his feelings behind a mask of stone. Was he embarrassed about his revelations from the night before? He merely kissed her hand and wished her a pleasant journey before handing her into the carriage.
The journey itself was pleasant, with good weather and a well-sprung, comfortable carriage. Mr. Darcy had hired Mary from the inn to accompany Elizabeth, and she proved to be an excellent traveling companion. She kept Elizabeth entertained—and distracted—with amusing stories about the mishaps of her many brothers.
Elizabeth was excited to see her family again but could not help missing Mr. Darcy. His absence was a sudden emptiness that brought about an almost physical ache. Again and again she thought of things she would like to share with him. Turning to tell him, she would find Mary beside her instead. It means nothing, she told herself. I am simply accustomed to his presence; I will grow accustomed to his absence. A tightness in her chest belied these words.
Her pulse quickened when she spied the familiar sights of Meryton. She had been from home not even two months, but it felt far longer, a lifetime ago. Her life in Meryton could have been lived by a different person. She knew she looked like a different person. The inn’s mirror had shown a woman who was thinner and more tanned than the one who had embarked on the cutter. Even her hair glinted with hints of red from her time in the sun.
Would the alterations disturb her family? What if they did not recognize her? Now I am being fanciful! I have not changed so very much. Still, I am returning from the dead, and they are not prepared.
Her stomach fluttered nervously. Elizabeth did not know what to expect—except their joy at her return. No, she also could predict with a moderate degree of confidence that her sudden reappearance would cause her mother to take to her bed and elicit pious platitudes from Mary. Oddly enough, she was even anticipating these eventualities with pleasure. Perhaps absence did make the heart grow fonder.
The carriage pulled to a halt in front of Longbourn. Elizabeth heard her sisters before she could see them.
“La! What a fancy carriage! I wonder whose it is?”
“Jane, did Mr. Bingley buy a carriage?”
“Whoever it is, I hope he is unmarried!”
From the carriage window, Elizabeth viewed her younger sisters spilling out of Longbourn’s front door, giggling.
Jane and her parents followed at a more sedate pace.
Elizabeth waited until the entire family was present, clustered around the carriage, before opening the door and climbing out.
Her father staggered backward. Jane gasped. Lydia screamed, “Lizzy!”
“But you are dead,” Mary said faintly.
Within seconds, Mrs. Bennet’s shrieks drowned out all other sounds. “It’s a ghost! Get away! Begone, foul spirit! Haunt us no more.” She pulled Lydia with her as she backed toward the door.
Elizabeth had to laugh. “Mama, I am no more a ghost than you are.”
“Do ghosts arrive in carriages?” Kitty asked.
