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In their journey to Longbourn, Bingley was practically vibrating with excitement; even after the initial feelings had settled last night, he was particularly eager to see Elizabeth. Of course, his approbation of his newly acquired sister as Darcy's future wife was to be expected, but even Darcy found the exuberance a bit overwhelming.
Especially since he hadn't asked her father yet.
"What a fine thing for you, Darcy!" Bingley cried, needling him with his elbow. "Perhaps I ought to secure you some alone time, yes? I think—"
"Bingley," Darcy interrupted, his voice calm and even in spite of his nerves, and Bingley at once silenced himself, looking at his friend with all his attention and a teasing expression on his face, "all I ask is that you be circumspect in your speech. I'd rather her family not hear the news second-hand."
Bingley shrugged. "Jane already knows, I'm sure."
"Likely, yes, but—"
"Darcy, I think I can manage to keep a secret for a day," he argued, shaking his head with indignation. "I'm not a child, for one— and secondly, you shan't spoil my excitement; my good friend is marrying my new sister, and I cannot even pretend to be indifferent."
As if to prove his words true, the moment they arrived in Longbourn's drawing room, Bingley made his way to Elizabeth, even before his own fiancée, and greeted her with a vigorous handshake, crying, "My dear, dear Sister, I could not be happier to see you today!"
"And I, you," she said blushing as she eyed Darcy, who simply raised his eyebrows and lightly nodded in reply to her silent question. With an amused smile she turned her attention to the conversation at hand— notably, Bingley slyly asking for more wilderness to trapeze about with Miss Bennet. Mrs. Bennet offered Oakham Mount as the best prospect.
"It may very well do for the others," Bingley said, "but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty." He looked at Miss Catherine pointedly, a mischief in his countenance Darcy prayed could only be noticed by the knowledgeable parties. "Won't it, Kitty?"
The girl wrinkled her nose. "Oakham Mount is so very far; yes, I should rather stay indoors if everyone is to walk there."
"Darcy is such a proficient walker, though, is he not?" Bingley continued, "and Lizzy would surely not mind a walking companion who can actually keep up with her. I think you're right, Mrs. Bennet; I think they should join us on our adventure."
It was almost comical, the manner in which he was contriving to allow Darcy to spend some time alone with Elizabeth, but Darcy couldn't find a reason to be over mad when the end result was so desirable. He and Elizabeth had scarcely had time to discuss their feelings— the important ones, of course, were mentioned yesterday— the necessary conversations— but hardly the more tender emotions, not enough for Darcy's desires, at least. "I've heard great things about the view," he said, "and I would be happy to join."
They began their walk as they often did— as far apart as could be, silent, soon beginning to outpace their fellow walking companions. His heart skipped a beat when her hand unwittingly brushed against his own— and when she looked at him with a grin, he could not help but smile back knowing that her happiness was derived from his mere presence, that her enjoyment of their newfound companionship only rivaled his own.
When they reached a suitable distance away from Longbourn, and Bingley and Miss Bennet were at such a distance that they could be observed but no conversation could be gleamed, Elizabeth touched his elbow, and he stopped, looking at her with great concern. But she simply shook her head and bit back a laugh as she wrapped her arm around his, averting her gaze when he smiled even wider.
Arm-in-arm, the both of them were much too flustered and agitated at their proximity, but neither was overly sure what they could do about it at present. Suddenly he was conscious of their every touch, of the way her arm curled around his, tugging at his sleeve as her skirts brushed past his leg with every step.
"I gather Mr. Bingley knows," Elizabeth said off-handedly, bringing Darcy out of his thoughts. "He was not overly subtle."
"No, he is not," Darcy agreed, clearing his throat as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He looked behind them, briefly, to see Miss Bennet and Bingley walking at a slow, leisurely pace, and he was suddenly reminded of what he came to Longbourn to ask her. "When should I petition your father?"
"Oh!" she cried, suddenly flustered. "I don't know." She let out a nervous laugh as she averted her gaze. "I suppose now is the time where I must confess something rather embarrassing. You will surely think poorly of me for it, but—"
"You know I could never."
With narrowed eyes, she looked at him, thoughtful and unsure. "I shall tell you, but if it displeases you, then you will have no one to blame but yourself." She breathed deeply and, when he nodded in reassurance, continued, "You are too well acquainted with the fact that I once disliked you. I have no desire to repeat the specifics, nor do I wish to dwell on it overlong, but—"
It was then that realization dawned on him. "You told your family of your dislike."
"Yes!" She shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly. "I'm entirely ashamed, but it is true. I cannot think what their surprise must be when we tell them! Even Jane did not believe me last night when I shared the news."
"Bingley, neither." Darcy offered her a sad smile. "He thought I disliked you as well, and he confessed that your sister and he spoke of an engagement between us as an impossibility."
"Well, that's reassuring, Mr. Darcy, but at least you've most definitely spoken very kindly to Miss Darcy about me— she had everything complimentary to say when we met in Lambton, if you recall. I cannot say the same for my family."
"Do you think your father would refuse—?"
"No!" she cried quickly, stopping him as she took his hands in hers, "No, I certainly hope not, but I do not know, sir! He certainly won't believe you. I'm worried he shall refuse, and then I'll have to beg him that we are in earnest."
Darcy contemplated this for a moment, and upon realizing the potential truth of her fears, drew her hands closer to his chest. "Would you prefer we wait, then? I am more than capable of patience, my dear, if it will assuage you—"
"No, I think if we do any later than tonight, I will be far too unsettled to even sleep; I'd rather it be done before then, so long as you can muster the courage." Elizabeth smiled mischievously. "Knowing that he may not believe you, when would that be?"
He squeezed her hands. "I'm sure I can find enough by the time we return to Longbourn."
"Oh, I'm sure you have more than enough already, Mr. Darcy," she said, guiding them to continue along before the couple trailing behind them caught up.
"Would it make you feel more settled if I went to your father's study the moment we returned?"
"No, tonight will be fine— after dinner, perhaps."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Might I ask why this is your preference?"
"This is a two-fold benefit for you. One, you shall likely not have to suffer my mother's exuberances when she hears of it," Elizabeth explained, "I am uncertain of her reaction, too, and I would like to spare you from it as much as possible, regardless of the outcome."
"Miss Elizabeth—"
"No, no, you cannot change my mind, and I do not consider it a great insult; I know how sincerely you have taken my old reproofs. I love my mother dearly, and she means well, but she can be… a lot, especially for a man unaccustomed to her manners as you are . I shall tell her after you have left— which will be shortly after my father hears of it, so she won't complain of him knowing so much sooner. This benefits her as well."
He sighed, already ready to acquiesce to her every whim. "And the second benefit?"
"It will allow my family to become familiar with your presence before they realize you will be a more permanent fixture." Her nostrils flared in amusement as she bit back a smile. "I must own, however, that I am being a bit of a self creature; it would please me greatly to have you to myself a little while longer."
"Secrecy does offer some… excitement, I suppose," Darcy said, his lips curling into a smile. "'Tis unfortunate that the matter cannot remain entirely private in order for us to marry."
"Yes, 'tis a great travesty that you must speak to someone in order for your desires to come to any fruition." She grinned, her face alight with mischief. "I suppose you'll have to practice."
At this, he let out a laugh, recalling a similar conversation they shared at Rosings. "I'm afraid you have still put your time to better use than I. I'm no more a proficient conversationalist than before."
"Now, that is patently untrue! I do not wish to accuse you of anything, but I think it is possible you are fishing for compliments."
"Perhaps."
"You have put in such a concerted effort that my aunt and uncle almost thought I was lying when I painted my initial assessment of you," she said, shaking her head in mock admonishment. "And your housekeeper, uh—"
"Mrs. Reynolds."
"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds." She paused, as if committing the name to memory. "She had much to say in favor of you, too. Between her and your own manners, I was thoroughly shamed for my prior opinions and for my expression of them."
"Mrs. Reynolds will be pleased that you will be Pemberley's mistress," he said, and she blushed profusely, pressing her lips together tightly as she sighed through her nose. It was nice to see her like this, at long last— to have her be flustered and agitated and not only him.
They walked on for some time in companionable silence, occasionally stealing sly glances at one another. He let out a chuckle one time he caught her, and she ducked her head, covering her eyes with her free hand. "Mr. Darcy," she huffed, exasperated.
"My dear, I do not have the pleasure of understanding your frustration," he said whispering in her ear.
It caused him great pleasure to see her blush even more as she placed the same hand on his arm and tightened her grip, smiling to herself in satisfaction. He had never seen her in this manner— so playful, so unsure of her affection but wanting to express it nonetheless.
"I love you," Elizabeth said suddenly, unable to look him in the eye, but her wide, toothy smile betrayed the sincerity of her feelings.
She'd never said it before, had she? She'd only hinted at it, expressing it in the vaguest of terms while he read between the lines what she was too embarrassed to admit aloud— but now… "Hmm?" He hummed in reply, pretending he did not hear in the hopes that she would say it again.
"I love you, Mr. Darcy," she repeated, much to his pleasure and satisfaction. "I realized I did not say as much during your proposal."
"Oh." He smiled. "You know I love you."
"Good, it would be a terrible start to our marriage if not."
"My dear Miss Elizabeth—" He stopped, suddenly struck with the notion that 'Miss Elizabeth' was far too formal an address for his fiancée, especially when it was just the two of them talking without prying eyes or ears. "How may I address you?"
"Elizabeth," she said quickly, "or Lizzy. My family calls me Lizzy— and some of my friends call me Eliza. I truly have no preference."
"Lizzy," he said, almost reverently, his cheeks warming at the sound of it in his ears, the feeling of the name on his tongue.
"You may be as formal as you wish in public," she continued, "but it would please me greatly to be called by my Christian name." She raised an eyebrow. "And yourself? How may I address you, sir?"
"I have no preference— however you like."
"Perhaps simply, 'Mr. Darcy,' then," she decided, and upon noticing his frown, laughed. "Oh, dear, whatever happened to 'however you like'?" When he did not reply, she giggled, giving him a teasing smile. "You seem so cross!"
"People I hardly know call me 'Mr. Darcy,'" he said. "We are to be husband and wife—"
"Oh, yes, well, therein lies the problem: the intimacy of your saying my Christian name is purely practical; at some point or another, I shall be 'Miss Bennet' or 'Miss Elizabeth' no longer, so it is only natural to use a name not tied to my father or my marital status until you may at last call me Mrs. Darcy. It is not so with yours."
"I have a Christian name."
"Fitzwilliam."
"Yes."
"It's a bit of a mouthful."
Against his will, he cracked a smile, letting a quick breath out of his nose in amusement. "I'm more than aware."
"'Tis such a grand, formal-sounding name to use for my husband— and in any case, it will be dreadfully confusing when we visit our cousins! The Fitzwilliams will surely all respond to the name, at least the males will, and then I will have to specify I mean my Mr. Darcy, and we will be back to where we started," she argued, slowing down as they neared the top of an incline. "Perhaps I will have to say 'my dear Mr. Darcy' or 'my dear Sir,' so you will know I say it with all my affection as I know you do when you address me informally."
Upon reaching the top of the hill, she stopped, looking at the sights around them for a moment— the rolling green hills of Hertfordshire— before turning her attention to face him. It was then that it occurred to Darcy that this was Oakham Mouth— more of a hill than a true mountain, but it was taller than the other hills, and the prospect was, as described, still quite pretty.
"Surely that would be even more of a mouthful," he said, taking her hands in his, his heart thrilling at the way she shook her head admonishingly— like he was doing something wrong for making her feel so delighted— as her eyes, her beautiful, lovely, enchanting brown eyes, so expressive and hypnotic lit up when she finally braved to look back up at him.
"Mr. Darcy," she sighed wistfully, and at that all fortitude that they would remain entirely chaste was abandoned.
Cupping her cheeks with his hands, his fingers curled around the nape of her neck, and he stood there for a moment, waiting for Elizabeth to change her mind, to pull back, but she never did— she leaned forward, even, and tilted her head back to be in the perfect position— so he closed the gap, and they were kissing, and Darcy was certain nothing felt better than this. With an exhale he parted from her, slowly opening his eyes as hers fluttered into view, the both of them blushing thoroughly.
"My dearest Lizzy," he began, his voice low and breathy, "pray, forgive me for the liberties I have taken."
"Have you taken liberties?" she asked with a wry smile. "No, I see what you mean: perhaps we may allow a kiss or two here and there. It is not so egregious, as long as it remains nothing more than a kiss, you see. I understand many couples take such innocent liberties before their vows."
"I couldn't agree more," he said, and he pressed his lips to hers again— briefly— though less hesitant, more sure of himself. "There was 'or two.' I suppose we ought to stop."
"You forgot about 'here and there.'" She giggled, kissing him again and again. "Though perhaps we ought to have moved to another position? For now we have done 'here and here' as opposed to 'here and there.'"
He nodded, humming in acknowledgement. "I'm afraid my sense of decency will not allow me to steal so many kisses from you."
"A real shame," she said, frowning. "Can you tell me a day when I may expect to at last have kisses stolen from me once more by the handsomest man in my acquaintance?"
"Our wedding day."
"Oh, our engagement shall be interminable!" she cried, clutching his arms as she threw her head back with laughter. "Mr. Darcy, I'm afraid that will not do at all."
"My sincerest apologies, my dear," he said, their faces so deliciously close it was almost maddening. "How may I rectify my misgivings?"
"You could kiss me again; I'm certain that would satisfy me."
Before he could lean down and kiss her once more, Darcy heard a twig snap and a gasp, and their little bubble came crashing down. With a fierce blush, he leapt apart from Elizabeth and looked to the source of the noise, only to find Bingley standing hand-in-hand with Miss Bennet, his face a mix of perverse amusement and delight, hers featuring only a soft smile and pink cheeks.
"Now, Mr. Darcy," Bingley said, "I really must protest at the manner with which you were holding my sister— unless you intend to marry her?"
"How convenient that I have every intention of doing just that," Darcy replied dryly, looking to Elizabeth, who beamed in satisfaction and began to laugh as she linked arms with Miss Bennet and began the descent back down to Longbourn.
Perhaps asking Mr. Bennet would not be so bad after all, knowing the reward of Elizabeth's laughter and happiness lay ahead.