Page 166 of The Mistress of All & Torn

“Very well then.” She started walking again.

“Very well then? Is that all?” he asked when he was at her side again.

“No!” Lost in the sound of the wind and waves, her weak admission released the clasp on her stomach. “No, that is not all. But nothing further can be said, since we are both to be married soon. I shall only say that my opinion of you changed after that day and has improved ever since. Everything has changed for me too, and I am bearing a torment I never imagined before. And yes, you are correct! We could not possibly be genuine friends. I would like that, but it cannot be. I should have understood it last year at Pemberley. Forgive me, I must leave you now.”

“Miss Bennet?”

“Yes?”

“I went to the bay because you told Georgiana you had visited it. I wished to have a place that I could share with you, even if you did not know. I ride around your cottage to be closer to you, even when I cannot bear to be in your presence. When I saw you today, I was sure it was just another of my dreams.”

His tone was soft but the pain in his voice melted her heart.

“I am glad to share something with you, Mr Darcy, even if it is that wild, desolate place,” she admitted, her eyes piercing his. “I must leave you now. Please do not follow me.”

“Miss Bennet. A question. I must ask.”

She stopped.

“Had I not been engaged to Anne, would you have agreed to marry Lord Alveston?”

She breathed in the salty air. There was not enough to ease the burn inside her.

“Let us not stir up this turmoil even more, sir. It is already unbearable, and nothing can be changed. I am begging you. Do not insist on an answer.”

He bowed to her. “I shall not. Never again.”

Her eyes lingered on his before she forced a smile. He struggled to smile back, sealing a painful truce. Nothing more was possible.

The rain had stopped, and the sky had cleared quickly, though the wind was still blowing, as if pushing them apart.

As Elizabeth walked back towards her home and her life, she felt his eyes upon her. As she departed, she thought that it might have been just another of their dreams, after all.

∞∞∞

Soon after Elizabeth arrived at the cottage, the rain resumed, turning into a storm, more violent than Elizabeth had ever seen at the seaside—not unlike her sorrow and grief that were more powerful than anything she had ever felt. The words they had spoken to each other had cut deeply into her mind and would never be forgotten.

The storm lasted through the night, as if to compete with the storm inside Elizabeth. Thunder and lightning assaulted the cottage until dawn, and the roaring of the waves was almost as powerful as the grief upon her soul. Almost.

A few miles away, in the middle of Brighton, Darcy did not even attempt to hide from the storm. Alone, he stood on the balcony, allowing the rain and the wind to whip his face while he pondered everything he had discovered that afternoon. Her previous hatred was easier to bear than her hopeless love, and her old anger was less painful than her sad surrender.

The sound of the storm was not enough to cover the recollection of her plea when she begged him not to insist on an answer. But he knew the truth. Just as he knew nothing could be changed, as she had said.

∞∞∞

When the storm cleared, the breeze was gentle yet cool, the sea as still as a mirror.

Exhausted from the most tormenting day and not a moment of sleep, Elizabeth stepped out of the house onto the beach to admire the sunrise.

The beauty was overwhelming, as were her emotions.

After so many months of turmoil, after she had heard him proclaim the power of his affection for her, she had eventually admitted her love for Darcy. She had not confessed it in so many words, but she knew he had understood. And they both comprehended it was too late for such acknowledgment, and that their mutual fondness must be concealed and disguised. Indeed, they could not possibly be simply friends, at least not until time had diminished the strength of their affection. At that thought, the claw in her chest tightened. She had only begun to discover the taste of love, and she was already forced to hope it would disappear soon. How long did it take such deep, strong regard to vanish or to turn into a mere, acceptable friendship? Would she truly want that? What would be preferable? To stop loving him and to hope his love for her had gone or to avoid being in each other’s company forever, as he had been trying to do for a year?

To all those questions, any answer was equally painful, and the grief ruined her spirits. She felt ashamed for such considerations since she already had a path to follow in her life. He had asked her if she would have agreed to marry Philip had he not been engaged to Anne. To whom would such speculations be helpful? She had given her word, and nothing would induce her to abandon Philip and Lady Kendal.

How could she choose between a felicity she had just discovered and a promise that would bring joy to so many people? How could she decide between her own pain and others’ suffering?

At that thought, her heart ached so much that she moaned. What about him? What about Darcy? Could she hurt him? Did he truly have hopes that involved them both? Would he be able to break his engagement and hurt his cousin, his sister, and their entire family? Could he face such a scandal? Could she ignore the loyalty she owed to Anne and Georgiana?