“Fitzwilliam,” he corrected again, his gaze never leaving her face. “If I am to die, I would hear my name from your lips one more time.”
“You are not dying,” Elizabeth repeated firmly, though fear clutched at her heart. “But if it pleases you… Fitzwilliam.”
His smile was brief but startlingly tender. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
Jane and Bingley looked at each other, alarm clearly etched on their faces.
“We must cool him down,” Jane said. “Charles, do you have an ice house here?”
Bingley ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “I did not leave instructions to fill it last winter, believing I would not return to Netherfield.”
“How about the Gouldings of Haye Park?” Elizabeth asked. “They have a prominent estate. Or send to Meryton to purchase ice. He can’t last much longer.”
“Lizzy,” Darcy moaned, his voice shuddering and weak. “We have ice. Pemberley’s north-facing hillock, where we watched the stars together. So dark, like diamonds on velvet. Remember?”
Elizabeth’s throat tightened at the beauty of the image—and the impossibility of it. “Yes,” she said softly. “I remember.”
“You promised we would return,” he continued, his voice more agitated. “After London. After the wedding. You promised we would watch the stars together at Pemberley.”
“And we shall,” Elizabeth assured him, playing along with his delusion in hopes of calming him. “When you are well again.”
“No,” Darcy insisted, his grip on her hand tightening. “We must go now. Tonight. Before it’s too late.”
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said gently, “you are not well enough to travel. We must wait until your fever breaks.”
His expression grew distressed, his breathing more labored. “There isn’t time. They’re coming. They’ll separate us again.”
“No one will separate us,” Elizabeth promised, though she had no idea who “they” might be in his fevered imagination. “I am here, and I will remain here.”
Again, Bingley and Jane exchanged significant glances.
“I will search for ice,” Charles said, backing out of the sickroom. “Mr. Johnson should be arriving shortly.”
“And I shall return with clean cloths,” Jane said, picking up the soiled towels and napkins.
They escaped the sickroom as if it were on fire, clearly embarrassed by the lack of propriety exhibited by a delirious Darcy.
“Lizzy… don’t go,” Darcy pleaded. His voice was small and uncertain, so unlike the confident, sometimes arrogant man she had known. “Will you stay?”
“I’ll stay.” She smoothed his anxious brow, fighting the urge to kiss his forehead. “I won’t leave you… Fitzwilliam, dear.”
A slight smile relaxed his face as his eyes drifted closed. Elizabeth continued smoothing his hair, calming him until his breathing evened. She glanced at the window, hearing the sound of an arriving carriage on the gravel drive.
She was about to go to the window when Darcy spoke again, his voice so low she had to lean closer to hear.
“I love you. I have loved you for so long.”
Elizabeth froze, her heart seeming to stop and then race forward at twice its normal pace. These were the words she had never thought to hear from him—words that changed everything and nothing.
“Don’t say anything. Rest.”
“No, let me finish.” Pain creased his features as he struggled for breath. “I may not have another chance. I was a fool at Hunsford. So proud, so certain of your answer. I spoke of obstacles and family inferiority when I should have spoken only of my heart.”
Elizabeth remained frozen, transfixed by the raw emotion pouring from him. In his fevered state, all his careful pride had crumbled, revealing depths she had never imagined.
“You were right to refuse me,” he continued weakly. “I deserved your rejection. Your contempt. I was not worthy of you then.”
I love you. I have loved you for so long.The words echoed in her mind, shaking foundations she had thought unbreachable.This was delirium—it had to be. Yet the desperate sincerity in his voice made her heart respond.
