It rains. It's in the air.
Not quite a memory. Not quite a possibility.
It hurts, Darcy doesn't know why.
The harbor's not pretty. Not for tourists. Pier, crates, trucks. Another cannery.
But. Grey sea, white sails. The boat shuttle is gone. Back in one hour. The island's pretty deserted, this time of year. The helicopter, making the rounds. If you missed the boat, they can take you, a ten minutes trip, a few hundred pounds.
Darcy, alone in a café. Working.
That's his life. Working, alone.
A weird experience though, today. Boring emails, you raise your eyes, there is the sea.
Jane, Bingley, and Elizabeth are shopping. Except, no. They must have gone their separate ways, because look, Elizabeth, alone. Darcy spots her outside, on the sidewalk, hesitating.
Suddenly, he wants her to come in. To come in and sit with him, to drink lukewarm chocolate, to laugh about the omnipresence of tuna. To marvel about being on an island, in the middle of the ocean, while the café looks like everywhere else but it's a wonder anyway.
Except Elizabeth is not coming in. She glances inside, she sees Darcy, alone. Sees that Bingley and Jane are not back yet.
She stays on the sidewalk.