Page 26 of Transforming Mr. Darcy
“Yes.”
“Will he remember me?” Miss Elizabeth asked, and Darcy hissed.
How could she think I would forget her?
The answer was curt. “No.”
Miss Elizabeth blinked, and Darcy was sure he saw something wet in her lashes. “Perhaps that is for the best.”
It wasnotfor the best, and it was not true. His mind might not remember, but his heart was another matter.
“Elizabeth!” he screamed, but there was nothing but a trumpet call. He flapped his wings and lifted himself into the air as she raised the apple to her lips.
He flew.
She opened her mouth.
He trumpeted as loudly as he could, causing her to turn in his direction. Miss Elizabeth’s lips were less than an inch from the fruit.
He stretched his long neck out as far as it could reach and stabbed at the apple as his momentum took him past.
The apple fell from her hand and rolled a few feet away as she cried out, but he had succeeded. When she picked it up, she stared at it for a second before shouting at him, “You must not!Mr. Darcy!”
But it was too late for that. He had managed to peck at the fruit. It was no more than a tiny morsel, but he was sure it still counted as a bite. If it killed him, at least she would be warned.
He swallowed.
The effects were immediate. He could feel his thoughts drifting, becoming harder to control. He was so tired. He circled back towards Miss Elizabeth. If he was to die now, at least he would not die alone.
As he glided in for a landing, the darkness overpowered him. There was a brief sensation of falling, and then nothing.
Elizabeth racedtowards the swan as his head and wings drooped. Mildread called out a warning, but she paid no heed. He was a few feet away when she jumped to break his fall, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.
Suddenly Elizabeth was grasping something much heavier than she had intended and, for the second time in the past half an hour, found herself falling to the earth. This time, it was under the much larger and much heavier body of Mr. Darcy. They ploughed a little furrow in the ground as they skidded to a halt—or rather, she did, as she was underneath him. She could feel the dirt in her hair, and it was a miracle her dress was not ripped to shreds, though the damp soil of the bank had made its way down her back.
“Oof,” she said involuntarily as they came to rest. At least she had been able to protect his head, though she was sure to be bruised from the attempt.
“You said he would change back ifIate the apple! You said nothing about him!” It was difficult to get the words out, but her anger fuelled her strength. Only it was not Mildread she was angry with, but herself. And Mr. Darcy, too. Proud, stubborn, protective . . . “You should not have done it,” she whispered in his ear.
It took some doing, but she managed to wriggle out from beneath him. Mr. Darcy’s face was turned to one side, his arms flung out in the attitude of wings, his legs askew. Elizabeth ran the back of one hand gently down his cheek.
“The oaf seems to have done the right thing, in the end,” Mildread said, not in the least concerned. She held out her wand, and Mr. Darcy’s limp form floated to a long bench made from the roots of a tree that only now had sprouted from the earth. He was laid gently down on his back.
“You could not have done that before I had to dig my way out?” Elizabeth asked indignantly.
“You did not ask for my help,” Mildread reminded her.
Mr. Darcy’s long arms dangled over the edges of his bed, and Elizabeth arranged them across his stomach. She sat on the edge of the bench and kissed his hands almost reverently. “What were you thinking?” she scolded him. “Your sister, sir! Your estate!”
“Do you love him, Elizabeth?” Mildread asked quietly.
“Does it matter now?” Elizabeth said, her throat tight and her heart pounding in her ears. She rested her head on his chest.
“It always matters, dear.”
What could it hurt to say it? He would be asleep for a hundred years. She would be gone long before he woke. He would find another with whom to make a life. She never would.
She had known her answer to his question the moment he had asked it, but never had she known herself so completely in love as now, when she knew all such sentiments were in vain.
