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And so he stomped across the land, venting his frustrations on the earth beneath his feet, not caring if it rained. Because this freedom, this ability to breathe in the fresh air and not have anyone need to know his thoughts or his moods, well, that was certainly worth getting a little wet for.

When the rain began to fall, it was gentle at first, a soft pitter-patter that could almost go unnoticed and did not really get anything wet. And then the raindrops grew harder, began to pummel the earth, clung to blades of grass and parched leaves, and soaked through the clothing on Darcy’s back.

He was surprised to discover that he was closer to the village than he thought, and so he hurried along, intending to take shelter somewhere before returning to Netherfield.

He had walked further than he had imagined, and although he did not mind the rain, he thought it was better to wait out the storm than make the entire return journey in it.

At the edge of the village was the church, the very one where he had been the previous week, where he would be the next day, and where he would marry the following month.

It was small and unassuming, not the sort of place his aunt would approve of for his marriage, that was for sure. But then she did not approve of the marriage at all, so its location probably made little difference to her.

He ducked inside, took off his hat and shook it slightly to get the water off it. The church was silent, save for the pitter-patter of rain against the windows, and he thought he would take shelter there until the worst of the weather had passed.

He pushed open the wooden door into the main church and stepped through, and was rather surprised to find that although it was silent, it was not empty.

"Oh," he said, his voice echoing in the stone building.

She turned, but he had recognised her from behind anyway.

Her eyes widened, and then she smiled.

"You’re early for church," she said, and he laughed.

"Just a little," he said, walking down the aisle, the very aisle she would be walking down in two weeks’ time to join him in the centre of the church. "Did you get caught out in the rain, too?"

"Yes." She held her bonnet in her hands, but it was soaking wet, as was her hair and her dress too, now that he took note.

"Indeed," he said. "I took a walk against everyone’s advice, and here I am."

She laughed. "We are more alike than I thought," she said, and those words pleased him more than he expected. "I too took a walk in spite of being told it would probably rain."

"And rain it did," Darcy said.

They were standing half a foot away from each other now, both dripping water onto the stone floor.

Was she thinking, too, about how soon they would be married in this church?

He had no way of knowing.

It was so tempting to close the gap between them, to kiss her at last, but he knew he ought to wait. This was not the time and this was not the place.

They would soon be married here, and then he could take her in his arms and kiss her.

But for now, the right thing to do was wait, no matter how hard it was.

Chapter Thirty-Three

He was here, as if she had conjured him with her mind, for when she had ducked into the church to hide from the rain, how could Elizabeth think of anything else but the fact that they would be joined as one under this very roof in a matter of weeks?

It should not surprise her to see him, though. Not after she had spent so much of the night thinking about him.

And yet she had not expected to turn around and see that handsome face, and those dark eyes, and those lips…

Goodness. She really needed to get control over her thoughts, for they were leading in a dangerous direction.

Her eyes paused on his lips for a moment. She could not help herself. And then they moved back to that dark gaze, and she shivered.

"Are you cold?" she asked.