Darcy strode across the deck, his eyes fixed to the southern horizon. His eyes were red from sleeplessness. Guilt had plagued him through the night, and the thought of their landfall was the only straw of comfort at which he could grasp.

Three times he had started to go to Elizabeth, but each time had been held back by the memory of her countenance when she told him she would never forgive him. How could he burden her with his company except when it was necessary?

His once-cherished dreams of Elizabeth's constant companionship at Pemberley were dashed by his newfound resolution to give her as much privacy as she required. Surely she would want nothing to do with him, ever. Perhaps she would be willing to appear with him enough to satisfy familial expectations, but that was as much as he could hope for. She would never forgive him, no more than he could forgive himself.

His hands gripped the railing as he watched Guernsey come into view. He was looking forward to their arrival, both because going to land would be a relief from the enforced inactivity aboard the ship and the unrelenting mental discourse that accompanied it, but also because then they would be forced to share company, at least for long enough to disembark and be married. His heart clung to the foolish hope that she would smile at him, her wide eyes sparkling with humor. He attempted to drive this image from his mind. It was no good to hope.

Darcy dimly heard the sailors prepare the ship for harbor, then felt a hand lightly laid on his arm. He looked blearily around to see Elizabeth at his side. Bewilderment rocked him and he struggled for words.

"Elizabeth my love," he blurted, then saw her eyes cloud with confusion. She hesitated for a long moment, then spoke.

"Mr. Darcy, I believe the time has come for us to go into town."

He stared at her. Words again failed him. She watched him, waiting for him to do something, but this unguarded amazement disarmed her. She took in his red-rimmed eyes, his wrinkled coat, his awry hair. She pursed her lips and contained a dry observation about his state, then spoke in gentle tones.

"Shall we go directly to church?"

Her question prompted him and words began to spill out. "I thought, perhaps you would like to refresh yourself at an inn before we go, go to the church. I've asked one of the sailors to take a message to vicar, and I thought we would take rooms at an inn, I've heard there is quite a good inn on the square, not far from the church. We could be at the church by sundown, that is if you don't need, I don't know if you have a dress that you'd care... If you need anything, of course..." He trailed off, looking at her desperately.

Elizabeth, who had already laid out the nicest of her evening gowns, gave him a small, kind smile.

"Perhaps we had best prepare here and go directly to church. I think we will both feel better once that is done."

Darcy looked dazed. "Yes, of course you are right." He shook himself slightly and looked down at himself. "Then I should go to my cabin. I apologize for my appearance, I've," he stopped and swallowed. "I've not been myself lately."

"That I can see," Elizabeth said. She took his arm again and led him below.

The wall of the church enclosed them in cool and quiet after the warm, bustling town square. Darcy begged Elizabeth to excuse him and left her with Newbury and went to consult with the vicar.

Elizabeth went into the chapel and knelt to collect herself, if not to actually pray. This was nothing how she imagined her wedding day would be. She missed her sisters bitterly.

Newbury sat beside her and kept quiet for a moment.

"Miss Bennet," he said eventually. "I know these circumstances are irregular, but it's not seemly for a bride to be so unhappy on her wedding day. Are you not at all pleased to be marrying Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth gave a soft laugh. "I hardly know what to feel, Captain Newbury. His proposal came as an absolute shock. And this," she gestured about them and shook her head, fighting back tears.

Newbury looked hard at her face. "I don't suppose anything I can say will make any difference. But I've known Darcy a long time, and I have never known him to do anything rash. This arrangement is alien to what I know of his character. There must be some very strong feelings involved. I can see they are not on your side. Was his proposal so flattering, then, that you could not refuse him?"

"I was flattered." She bit her lip. "But I was not prepared to accept him. He was so insulting, so high-handed. I know my family has no great fortune and my youngest sisters can be intemperate. But to salt his declarations of love with such remarks, how could he have expected anything but my firmest refusals?" She was in a fury at the memory.

"And yet you accepted him," the captain said, frowning. "I suppose a fortune such as his brooks no refusal." She stood straight with insult.

"I didn't accept him," she shouted. "He insisted and then put it beyond my power to refuse him." Then, shocked at her own poorly judged audacity, she looked behind her to see a white-faced Darcy entering the chapel with the vicar.

With a sob, Elizabeth dashed from the pew and ran through the choir entrance. As the men stood there, horrified, she was gone.