Page 46 of Pemberley's Imposter
Jane blushed prettily at the praise as Elizabeth expected—always so modest.
“Ellie is always welcome here, Lizzy.”
“Thank you, Jane. I shall bring her on the morrow. I have an engagement with a seamstress on Bond Street in half an hour and must make haste.”
Elizabeth almost forgot to ask when the Bingleys were planning to remove to Netherfield. Jane showed all the signs of increasing again, and Elizabeth surmised they would soon retire to their country estate for a longer sojourn. She was about to ask when she sensed a presence behind her. She jolted away from the tall form of Mr Elliot, her hands flying involuntarily to clutch her chest while she yelped. Mr Elliot was solicitous, begging her pardon for startling her so, but Elizabeth backed away. He was a glib man, a trait she could not trust, and since the calamity in the library, she could not abide anyone standing behind her. After calming her racing heart, she left the Bingleys’ townhouse for a much-needed shopping excursion.
Chapter 16 The Depth of Love
Elizabeth strolled the path she had walked so often, approaching the cottage she had resided in for two and a half years.
The sound of chopping reached her long before she caught a glimpse of the working man. She halted to study him clandestinely as he had yet to notice her. He was attacking the logs with his shirt open and his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, impervious to the crisp September air. His mind was fully focused on the task before him. Elizabeth feared that if she made herself known he would startle and hurt himself, considering the ferocious pace at which the axe kept hitting its target.
The view was rather pleasant to look upon, but she allowed her gaze to wander over the premises. New land was being worked, allowing the resident to grow more vegetables come spring. The roof had been mended, and the new thatching stood out with its lighter colour, though it was still a dreary place in Elizabeth’s mind. Taxing work was required to keep warm and fed. Elizabeth did not miss much about the days she had spent here. It had been lovely to experience the peaceful solitude on occasion, but there was rarely any time left after the necessary jobs were done to enjoy it. Perhaps she had been mistaken, and coming here would break her heart all over again.
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He must have been working too hard to have conjured up such a vision. A mirage created by his mind.
Sweat ran down his face and in between his shoulder blades. No matter how hard he worked himself, he could not erase her from his mind. Like now, standing before him with a dreamy expression on her countenance. Elegantly dressed, graceful in her bearing, in stark contrast to the hovel in front of her. Unearthly still, like a ghost or an apparition.
Was he losing his mind like his dratted cousin? If he was, he was not opposed to moments like this, gazing upon the beauty before him.
He approached her stealthily. The illusion did not disappear into thin air but remained still as he moved forwards.
If he wanted, he could reach out and touch her, and those beautiful eyes would be directed at him rather than the wilderness beyond. But of course, had those eyes been fixed on him, her expression would have cooled significantly.
Darcy’s gaze dropped to the ground, and his shoulders slumped. He had no one to blame but himself; he was the master of his own misery. He deserved to live like she had, to experience the hardships he had foisted upon his love.
“He is winning. We cannot let him.”
Darcy was startled out of his guilt-ridden thoughts. The eyes he so admired robbed him of his faculties; he could not understand a single thought in his mind.
How the tables had turned. He was dishevelled, sweaty, and unkempt, whilst she stood before him, immaculately dressed. He used to believe that one’s superficial appearance mattered, that it distinguished one from the plebeians.
“He is winning, and we are letting him without a fight,” she repeated.
Darcy regarded Elizabeth. Something had changed within her; her eyes did not shoot daggers, nor did they hold contempt.
“Doyouwant to fight, Elizabeth?”
“I do. The colonel sought to divide and conquer, a well-known military stratagem. I resent that he has succeeded in dividing us. We are both his victims, and we both deserve leniency for transgressions instigated by a man without reason.”
“I cannot so easily forget the mistakes I have made,” Darcy declared.
“I know. I expect you to grovel at my feet on many occasions.” Elizabeth smiled as Darcy sank to his knees.
“I did not mean it literally!” Elizabeth was clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Darcy was not compelled to rise to his feet.
Elizabeth crouched before him, placing her dainty fingers under his chin and trying to lift it, but he would not allow her to. Suddenly, he was back on his feet, enveloping her in his arms, his head resting on hers.
“These past years have been a torment, but I cannot imagine how we can go back. You said so yourself.”
“No, we cannot. We were different people back then. The only route is forwards. It will require much effort from both of us to oust the past. Sometimes I shall resent you, whilst other times you will resent me. Quite natural feelings because the hurt was so profound, but I do not want to let him win. Do you?”
“No…no, I do not. Not because of Richard but because I love you beyond reason. I would never have acted so despicably if I had cared less.”
“I know. Neither would I.”
