Elizabeth took his words into consideration, but remained silent.
“Sadly, Miss Bennet, marriage is a matter of convenience and strategy—especially for men of certain stature. As a second son, I must choose with prudence rather than heart. Darcy’s fortune, on the other hand, affords him more freedom, though even he is not immune to familial pressure. My aunt has long intended him for a particular match.”
“He seems to have resisted her designs so far.”
“Yes, but not without cost.” The colonel’s tone sobered. “Challenging an influential relative is no small feat, especially for someone as principled as my cousin. He is rather unyielding when it comes to duty and decorum, and never hesitates to offer his best advice to those who trust his judgement.”
She tilted her head. “In what way?”
“Not long ago, he accompanied a friend of his to Hertfordshire to view an estate where the gentleman intended to settle. Darcy did not withhold his judgement, naturally—both regarding the property and more personal matters.”
Her breath caught. Hertfordshire? Was he speaking of Mr. Bingley and Jane? “Personal matters? Were they of some importance?”
“Indeed! Nothing less important than affairs of the heart.” The colonel chuckled. “His friend was on the verge of an imprudent attachment. Darcy believed it his duty to intervene, and he convinced the gentleman to withdraw.”
“Do you know the lady involved?”
“No. He never named her, only that he acted out of concern.”
Her grip on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm tightened as the sky darkened above them.
“What if he was mistaken?” Her steps slowed, but her heartbeat sped up. “Who assigned him the role as sole appraiser of his friend’s feelings? Does he believe his discernment so infallible as to appoint himself the judge on such matters?”
“Would you rather think his interference was officious?”
“Call it what you will, but no one should play arbiter with another’s heart.”
The wind gusted as the storm loomed ever closer.
“We should go,” the colonel said, hastening his pace, “or we shall not make it to the house on time.”
They hurried together towards the mansion. When they arrived at the far end of the terrace, it took several minutes to reach the gardens. Elizabeth gasped at the scene before her. Chaos had erupted. The meticulously arranged celebration lay in disarray as servants dashed about, frantically attempting to retrieve furniture and decorations that were being swept away by gusts of wind. The families scattered, children wailed in terror. Tablecloths and everything not firmly attached spun through the air. Branches bowedlike reeds, and thunder rumbled so deeply that the ground trembled beneath her feet. She was aghast. So much turmoil had come into her life in mere moments!
A whirlwind of leaves and dirt hit Elizabeth in the face, blinding her. Thick raindrops began to fall, sparse at first, but soon turning into a torrential downpour. She wiped her eyes and kept one hand in front of her face, protecting them from the debris as she struggled towards the house against the hauling wind.
Someone grasped her wrist and pulled her forward. “We must get inside!”
Just as the still, red dawn had foreshadowed, a storm was upon them.
Chapter 6 – Thunderstruck
Disoriented and unsure of her surroundings, Elizabeth allowed herself to be guided, following the swift steps of her rescuer. The sharp crack of branches and a heavy thud echoed behind her. She leaned closer, seeking shelter in his embrace. They reached the stairs leading to the terrace, and when she tripped over her skirts, his arm wrapped securely around her waist to prevent her fall. Her feet scarcely touched the floor as he swept her into the house. Only once they were safely inside did she open her eyes, standing breathless and soaked before her equally drenched saviour.
“Are you well?” Mr.Darcy asked, his chest heaving. All around, servants hurried about the room, closing windows and doors and lighting candles in preparation for the tempest that was beating the house.
Elizabeth gulped and managed a stunned nod.
“Lizzy!” Charlotte appeared beside her, taking her hands. “Are you injured? The tree—it almost fell over you!”
“Indeed!” cried Maria. “You barely made it out! Had it not been for Mr.Darcy, you would have been crushed!”
“I am well, thank you.” Elizabeth was still bewildered. “Good Lord! I have never seen anything like this!”
A few minutes passed in a bustle of Charlotte and Maria’s overlapping accounts—how the storm had broken, how they had sought shelter, how tablecloths had flown, dishes had shattered, and people had screamed, and Charlotte’s fear at not knowing whereElizabeth was. Elizabeth paid only half-hearted attention, still trying to shake off the shock of it all. When her breath had steadied and her friends’ excitement simmered down, she let her gaze roam the room in search of Mr. Darcy, intending to offer her thanks—yet he was gone. Vanished. When had he left? Instead, she caught sight of Lady Catherine at the far side of the room with Miss de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam. The roar of the wind drowned their voices, but their gestures betrayed a quarrel as fierce as the storm outside.
The colonel hurried towards Elizabeth as soon as he caught her eye. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, for leaving your side at such a frightful moment, but I had to assist my cousin. I trust you will pardon the discourtesy.”
“Fitzwilliam! I am not finished!” cried her ladyship.
