He looked down at her and smiled tightly. “I must speak with your father about something. I will return shortly.”

She hated that she felt as if she were hurting him by her answer, even though she knew it was a perfectly acceptable custom for the bride’s sister to accompany the couple. She smiled uneasily as Darcy nodded to Mary and went to her father.

Elizabeth felt unsettled. Guilt and anger fought equally for her attention and she took a deep breath to calm herself. How dare he make her feel guilty for wanting only what every other woman she knew required? Well, not every woman. Charlotte had gone directly to Kent following her wedding breakfast with no one to accompany her to her new home. And when Miss Goulding wed two years prior, she had not taken a companion on their trip to Ireland. Her own Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had travelled alone following their wedding, but they had been deeply in love. As Mr. Darcy is in love with you, she told herself.

Oh, dear! Why could she not be selfish and mercenary, caring for no one but herself? If she were, she would be happy to marry a rich man and not care that he was made unhappy by her decision to bring a companion on their journey. But no, by some perverse fate, she had to be unhappy she was marrying a man she did not love, and yet still be troubled by the idea of injuring him with her decisions. She was sure it was a curious error in her own nature that caused her to feel such disparate emotions. What kind of woman cares for the feelings of a man she is unhappy to be marrying? A Bennet woman, that’s who.

Perhaps she could talk to him. Mayhap they could work something out that would suit them both. Much to her chagrin, she felt a sick feeling in her stomach at the thought of his expression when she had told him she essentially did not want to be alone with him. The way he had sighed and squared his shoulders, as if she were thrusting burdens upon him that he must bear alone. No, she could not live with this uneasiness. She must speak with him.

Her father and Mr. Darcy entered the sitting room together and Darcy resumed his seat next to her. She put her hand on his sleeve and spoke quietly, “Would you walk with me? I need some air.”

“Yes, of course.”

They walked along the shore, Kitty and Mary walking arm in arm ahead of them. He had not offered his arm and she had not taken it. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, wondering if it had been a simple misstep, or if he had deliberately withheld.

“Fitzwilliam,” she said, looping her arm through his. “We must have an awkward conversation.”