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Chapter Text

Elizabeth paused at the gate outside the parsonage. She had slipped Jane's latest letter into her pocket so she could analyze it for her sister's true feelings, but if she took her favorite path as usual she ran the risk of running into Mr Darcy. She could not understand it! She had warned him where she would be, but he must not have listened for she had encountered him twice more after that, with him turning to escort her each time. She did not have the patience today! When the path veered, she chose the one away from her usual ramble and rejoiced in every new sight.

After some time she came to a beautiful little clearing and spun about in delight. The dappled canopy gave way to large shafts of sunlight, and the growing warmth of it vitalized her. She removed her bonnet in order to feel it better, and closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sun. When she opened them again, she discovered the very man she was trying to avoid - staring at her. "Mr Darcy!" she cried in surprise.

"Good morning," he smiled. A full smile, that lit his face! "May I… join you on your walk today, Miss Bennet?"

She blinked. "You may." She hastily retied her bonnet to recover propriety. Not that he didn't already think her quite wild, she was sure. They walked along and she prepared herself for another mostly silent morning, peppered with odd, disjointed questions. She tried not to stomp along the path and was startled when he spoke.

"Have you heard from your family lately?"

Did he need more fodder to laugh at them? "I had a letter from Jane the other day. She is staying in London, if you recall." What would he say to that?

"I do. And how does she fare?"

She clamped her mouth shut so she didn't lay the whole of the truth before him. Although… "May I be frank, Mr Darcy?"

"Please."

Why on earth would that make him smile? It added an extra bite to her next words. "She is in very poor spirits, and has been for months."

"I am grieved for her," he responded with what seemed like genuine regret. "And for you."

"For me?" Elizabeth felt off balance. This was the most bewildering conversation she had ever had with this man, and that was no easy claim to outdo.

"You are a very protective sister. I am sure you feel her pain as if it were your own. It is a trait I have long admired."

She blinked in astonishment. Was Mr Darcy - of all men - complimenting her? They walked for some time before she realized she was being as silent as she had always condemned him for. "And how is your sister?" she asked courteously.

It took him a moment to respond. "In very poor spirits, too."

He seemed so downcast. "I am sorry to hear that."

"How do you…" He cleared his throat. "How do you help such a sister?"

Elizabeth slowed, almost tempted to look around to see if this were some sort of joke. Mr Darcy, being voluble - courteous - giving her praise and soliciting her opinions? Had he not always hated her? Was he asking merely to sneer at her ideas? "It would depend on the sister," she began cautiously, trying to evade the question. "And the reason for her melancholy. Surely you, as her brother, would know best how to cheer her."

"I fear I have been unable to so far. I… May I… May I ask your advice?"

She could not look at him, so perplexed was she. "What is it that ails poor Miss Darcy?"

"Heartbreak, I think."

Ah. Elizabeth relaxed slightly. He was just a man at a loss as to the infatuations of a young girl. Well, she could advise him then, if only for Miss Darcy's sake. "She is young, is she not? I think every girl suffers her first big heartbreak around that age. You recall my mother speaking of Jane's poet?"

"Oh?" She felt the full force of his glower. "And dare I ask which scoundrel broke your heart at fifteen?"

His voice had an almost jealous edge - but that would be ridiculous! Internally, Elizabeth laughed at the idea that she could raise such feelings in Mr Darcy. How he would hate being cast as her protector! She decided to tease him. "Alas, no one you could call out. My heartbreak was losing my childhood dog."

To her surprise, he did not seem ruffled by her sally at all. "I hear your jesting tone, but I well know the death of a beloved dog does break off a piece of your heart to go with them."

What an astonishingly genuine thing to come out of the mouth of a man who seemed to disdain conversation. Disconcerted, she returned to the original subject. "And so, I am sure time will help your sister's disappointment."

Mr Darcy stopped short, and she followed suit in some surprise. "Perhaps if it were mere disappointment. Unfortunately…" he heaved a huge breath, his voice ragged. "The man in question was a longtime friend of the family. She had fond memories of him from childhood. I - I thought I had more time to warn her about, well, the sort of men that he grew into." He removed his hat and turned away, but she could see his fists clenching around the brim, tight enough to damage it. "Last summer, while she was vacationing with her companion, he showed up. He…" She watched in morbid fascination as he ran a hand through his hair, disarranging it. "He seduced her companion and made love to Georgiana. The two of them persuaded her to believe her self in love with him and agree to an elopement. They planned to split her dowry."

She gasped. It sounded like the plot of a novel, with a true villain. "They didn't succeed?"

"By chance, I arrived before they left. The elopement did not take place…but I cannot say W- this man failed in his revenge against me." He dropped his hat without seeming to notice, instead raising that hand to his face.

Compassion flooded her, and she drew nearer. The poor girl. The poor man in front of her, clearly so distressed. Whatever his faults, she had always known him to dote on his sister. "It is no wonder your sister is in poor spirits. To be the victim of such a scheme!"

"She can barely look at me," he very nearly sobbed, his voice broken. "I have tried to speak to her - of this, or of any thing she enjoys - but she no longer meets my eyes."

Elizabeth took out her handkerchief and opened his fist to place it inside, curling her hand around his so he would take it. To see such a sedate man so vulnerable and raw, emotionally stripped bare and laid out before her - it seemed almost indecent somehow. As if she was witnessing an intimacy she shouldn't. She even placed a hand on his arm, feeling she could not leave him though he must be desiring her absence.

Mr Darcy began crying in earnest. "I have failed in every way that matters. As a guardian, as a brother, as a cousin, as a -" He broke off, and she wondered at him carrying so many burdens. In that moment, all of her dislike of him was momentarily forgotten. He was just a man, alone in the woods except for her. He was in need of comfort, and she was in a position to provide it.

She moved her hand higher on his arm, gripping it firmly. "You did not fail," she reassured him. "She is not lost."

To her surprise, he enfolded her in his arms. She hadn't realized they were standing so close, and she could feel the tension in his arms as he held her, but his forehead rested on her shoulder almost delicately as the words poured out of him in a rush. "Only by the grace of God! I knew nothing of what was amiss. If I had been but a day later, she would be forever tied to a reprobate who twists the truth as easily as he breathes. I knew him as a companion, Elizabeth. I know how cruel his words can be, hidden behind pretty words that make you feel to be the one at fault. You walk away from every interaction not knowing your own mind. I failed to warn her, thinking she would never encounter him. I chose a poor companion. She must be reminded of my failures every time she sees me, so I have tried to keep my distance - spent time in Hertfordshire and London and Kent, but it is not long until I selfishly have to see her to make sure she is well."

At length, his agonized words faded away, melting into shuddering silence as his tears flowed. She felt them hot against her skin as her mind whirled. That Mr Darcy should feel things so deeply, and never give a hint! To have his family targeted by such an unscrupulous man, that had once been his companion! That he should slip and disclose such things to her - he could not help but regret that when he came to his senses. Even if he had dropped the honorific from her name - although it seemed too impossible to address while she was in his arms… She was at a complete loss, and a bit shamed that she had never even considered that Mr Darcy might have such troubles plaguing him. Not that anyone could have predicted villainy like this! She patted him on the back, unsure what else to do.

It seemed to jolt some awareness into him. He pulled away from her and began wiping his face with her handkerchief. "Forgive me. I should not have - forgive me."

Elizabeth was surprised to find there were tears in her eyes as well, and she blinked to dispel them. "It sounds like it has been a terrible ordeal for both of you. I suspect I am not the only one who feels the reflected pain of a beloved sister."

He gave an almost - laugh? snort? - of agreement. "I would take all of her pain, if I could."

She nodded in understanding. "And yet, I doubt she sees the situation the same as you do. I doubt she blames you in any way, unless he - I dare not call him a gentleman - told her her it was to hurt you?"

He frowned, and she was captivated by the way it lined his face. "He said some backhanded cuts I know have been preying on her mind - and some direct insults when he realized her dowry is contingent on guardian approval - but I do not believe he claimed his revenge on me. I just know him well."

Elizabeth could not imagine the betrayal of a former friend aiming to hurt her. The coolness between Charlotte and herself since Mr Collins came into their lives was bad enough - but if she were to actively set herself against the Bennets? She realized he was looking at her and recalled herself. "I would guess she is worried she disappointed you. Of your disapproval." He began to protest but she continued, "You have a fierce visage much of the time, sir. I am sure your sister knows your expressions well," - the poor girl, to be constantly glowered at - "but at fifteen we ladies are unfortunately in the midst of many changes that can skew our thinking. Knowing something in our head is not the same as knowing it in our heart. I would suggest making it clear - in your words and your actions - that you still love and support her. And repeat it often."

"It is not…selfish for me to see her?"

Strange, that he would consider something like that. Perhaps she had misjudged him somewhat. "Unless she has asked you to stay away, I would think your checking on her would confirm your care for her."

Hope and something else flared in his eyes, making his already handsome face shine even brighter. "Thank you, Miss Bennet - for the advice, for listening, for…your forbearance. You are remarkable, and I have appreciated all our walks together."

She looked quickly at the ground to hide her wide-eyed expression. Remarkable?

"It is true," he pressed. "I have come to realize I have made a poor showing of myself to you in the past," - it was all she could do to keep her countenance - "but I would hope…I hope if you are willing to come to know me better, I might redeem myself in your eyes. But for now, I am sure it is time to return you to the parsonage."

Elizabeth was grateful for the time it took him to stoop and retrieve his hat, dusting it off. She needed it to regain her composure.

"May I offer you my escort?" Mr Darcy asked humbly. "Although I do understand your love of solitary walks, so if that is what you desire now we could part ways here. I leave it to your decision."

Now that he had put himself back together, she searched his face for a dawning awareness of who he had been confiding in, or regret that he had become so undone in front of her, but he merely held her gaze and waited. "Some solitude would suit me well, I confess." She needed the time to think. "If I think of anything else that may help your sister, I will let you know."

He nodded gratefully, and asked "Will I still see you at tea?" with such eagerness that she could not help but smile.

"You may count on it."

She took her leave from him with as little attention as she could spare, already consumed by her thoughts. She could hardly follow the thread of them, so many of his words were crowding in. I have failed…by the grace of God…I know him well… a longtime friend of the family… I cannot say W- failed in his revenge against me. With a sudden, dreadful clarity in her thinking, she stopped abruptly. With trepidation, she turned to face him. "Mr Darcy? Do I…" How to ask if she had been foolish, if she had been as blind as a young girl? He knew very well she knew Mr Wickham, he must have had some reason for avoiding his name. "Am I also acquainted with the man you spoke of?"

His jaw tightened. "You are," he nodded.

Elizabeth felt sick. She had been taken in, lapping up outright lies in exchange for flattery. And Mr Darcy - private, solemn Mr Darcy, who had previously avoided the opportunity to share his business - had mortified himself before her to tell her the truth. "Thank you," she told him sincerely.

She curtsied again and left him standing there, once more as upright and solid as one of the trees surrounding him. The motion of her arms as she walked caused the damp patch of his tears on her dress to repeatedly make itself known against her skin, feeling as if it had somehow marked her forever.

-o-

Elizabeth walked along in the general direction of the parsonage, barely giving any attention to which path she took. Blind! She could not have been more blind. Mr Wickham had claimed he had not seen Miss Darcy since she was a child - but Mr Darcy had spoken of recent events, and he would not spread such scandalous falsehoods about a beloved sister. Nor would he speak with such abandon - fall near to pieces on her shoulder - for anything less than genuine, extreme emotions. And Mr Darcy was not the type to lie. He was even rude in his honesty - Elizabeth had even sometimes wished he would be slightly less than perfectly honest, maybe he was incapable of lying - but even if he were, he could not have intended this as slander. He never even spoke Mr Wickham's name!

No, Mr Wickham had poured lies in her ear - and why? To raise her opinion of him by comparison? No! Elizabeth was honest enough with herself to admit she would have been just as taken by Mr Wickham if he had no connection to the Darcys. It was malicious slander, pure and simple. She had no idea of the timeline of things, when the denied living came into it - or had it ever been denied in the first place? Mr Wickham had no idea why it should have been denied, did he? He could think of no possible reason for Mr Darcy's determined dislike? Ha! He had knowingly set out to ruin Mr Darcy's reputation, and -

With a sinking heart, Elizabeth realized she had aided him.She had not spread the story of course, but she had willingly listened when others spoke of it and heartily abused him with anyone who did. Thoughtless, thoughtless girl! Elizabeth gave a huff.Had Mr Darcy's manners been at fault? Oh yes. But was it such an offense, to be aloof and haughty? He was not settling into the community. He had probably never expected to see any one of them again after his brief stay in a county several days journey from his estate. If she had not taken such delight in shredding Mr Darcy's character every time she encountered Mr Wickham, she might have even become accustomed enough to his mannerisms to move past his initial slight at the assembly.

Vanity! And pride! Those faults she had accused Mr Darcy of all those months ago - and they turned out to be gaping flaws of her own. Would that she had never heard his words at the assembly! No, that was too far - would that he had never uttered such callous words in the first place. She still could not excuse them - no amount of difficult experiences could make such rude behavior acceptable - but she could at least let it stop coloring every single interaction she had with the man. After all, she was not the same person she had been half a year before.

Elizabeth arrived back at the parsonage with barely enough time to ready herself for tea.

"Make haste, cousin, make haste! Lady Catherine expects us!" Mr Collins' agitation shone through in his voice.

In truth, she was perfectly capable of changing in the time allotted, but Mr Collins was exacting in his ablutions and always spent the same amount of time in readying himself. She assured him she would be ready when he desired to leave, gave Charlotte an apologetic glance, and hurried upstairs.

-o-

On the walk to Rosings, Elizabeth was still lost in her thoughts about Mr Darcy. How would he react to seeing her in company? Would things be changed between them? Did she want them to be? She wondered what would cause him to act so differently today… or if she had just been so prejudiced by his public behavior in Hertfordshire that she had not noticed how he had changed. But no, only yesterday they had walked together and he had still been silent other than strange conversational gambits.

She was startled by Charlotte next to her.

"Are you well, Eliza? It is not like you to antagonize Mr Collins' schedule, and you have been awfully quiet since."

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth smiled wanly. "I apologize for worrying Mr Collins, it was not my intention. I lost track of time." She was hesitant to mention meeting Mr Darcy at all. Part of her desired talking through what had happened, but most of her wanted to hold the experience close to her chest, keeping it private and hers alone.

Charlotte gave her a close examination, but did not press the issue, which Elizabeth was grateful for. They were coming into view of Rosings, and Elizabeth saw a silhouette standing in the window. She thought it must be Mr Darcy, and though she could not be sure - the figure seemed to catch sight of them and exited from view before she could come close enough for certainty - her heart quickened at the idea that he might have been watching for a glimpse of her.

She chided herself for being so fanciful. It could just as easily have been a footman waiting to see when he might be needed at his post. Why should Mr Darcy be on the lookout for her? Why should you even care? She mentally retorted to her heart. How vexing that her own self would not obey her! He thinks you tolerable, nothing more.

But a part of her whispered, he thinks you are remarkable.

By the time they were announced in the drawing room, Elizabeth was quite annoyed by her own treacherous thoughts. Mr Darcy was there - along with the rest of the party - and she locked eyes with him as she curtsied, unable to look away. She gave him a tentative smile, but he merely bowed and said nothing. Colonel Fitzwilliam was the one to welcome them further into the room with an odd grin, and then of course Lady Catherine took over all the dialogue once they were close enough.

Elizabeth had never felt so dull, and yet so alive at the same time. She was hyper aware of where Mr Darcy was in the room at all times, even without looking. She was conscious of every movement she made, wondering if it would be witnessed by him. She did not have enough thoughts to spare for Lady Catherine's conversation!

It was relief when Lady Catherine asked her to provide a song. Elizabeth felt Mr Darcy's eyes on her as she walked to the piano and for a moment thought he would join her, has he had before - but he merely sat on the settee she had vacated and seemed to be speaking quietly to Charlotte. She could not account for why that made her so peevish! She should be grateful he was demonstrating that he was capable of conversation at all - she did not need to be the one he conversed with. They had spoken quite a bit that morning, after all.

But the conversation had been so unusual, so private, he must regret it by now. Perhaps he was mortified, and who could blame him? He would surely avoid her. Elizabeth would not want any reminders if she had been the one to weep before an acquaintance.

When she had played the entire piece, she lingered at the piano, half-heartedly looking through the music and debating if she should begin another or join Charlotte and Mr Darcy's conversation. It would be humiliating if he stood up and left as she arrived! He had not looked in her direction once since she started playing.

Lady Catherine had begun telling everyone about how Sir Lewis had built a wing of Rosings to her specifications, to add to the illustriousness of the estate. "It has been kept in the highest order, I assure you," she was saying, "But there were some rather strong storms in the winter past and if damage has been done, it must be addressed as a priority. I am very attentive to such things. I know Darcy would agree."

Everyone dutifully looked at Mr Darcy, who was staring into his teacup with an unusually soft expression.

"Darcy!" Lady Catherine repeated.

The man jerked his head upright and cleared his throat. "My apologies. Of what were we speaking?"

"Of the potential renovations to the east wing," Lady Catherine repeated, annoyed. "What did Mr Wood have to say?"

"We will meet tomorrow, and I will be sure to keep you informed," he said dismissively.

"I was informed you were to meet first thing this morning, why did he not attend you?"

Early that morning? But Mr Darcy was out walking with her, as he usually was.

"You quite mistake the matter, aunt. I was the one who had more important things to see to," - her eyes shot to his face in surprise - "and Mr Wood was gracious enough to work around my other obligations."

Mr Darcy still did not even glance at her. More important things? He rescheduled his morning - interrupted business - to cry in her arms, and now he wouldn't even look at her? Or trouble himself to remain in conversation, it seemed, for he had now turned his back to the room and was staring out the window. He was, Elizabeth reflected, perhaps the only man she recognized from the back just as easily as the front.

This would not do. She allowed the conversation to turn - Mr Collins was simultaneously lamenting the possible loss of Rosings' noble silhouette and enthusing how a new roof could improve it - and marched over to the window where Mr Darcy held vigil.

"A captivating view, is it?" she challenged him.

He turned to her with his strange almost smile. "I cannot say it is."

He did not even pretend to be doing anything but ignoring the room! "So you are avoiding the company then? I do understand. Some people are well enough to consort with away from prying eyes, but giving consequence to them in a drawing room would be beyond the pale." She braced herself for his too honest agreement, or relief that she understood how he wanted to move forward.

Instead, his eyes widened and he spoke unusually quickly. "On the contrary, Miss Bennet! I did not want to force you to acknowledge me."

She searched his face for any sign of dissembling. How off balance she felt today! Had she been wrong about everything? "If you are not careful, Mr Darcy, I will be forced to alter my initial opinion of you."

He did not hesitate. "I wish you would. I behaved abominably."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. She could not take this in right now! She fell back on being sportive to mask her lack of equilibrium. "You have regrets? I do so hate changing my mind." She heaved a dramatic sigh. "Are you saying you would do things differently, if you had the chance?"

"And run the risk of not knowing you?" Mr Darcy made a great show of thinking, then shook his head. "I'm afraid I'll just have to suffer the consequences of my actions."

Elizabeth's eyebrow lifted. Like being caught in a current, she had no choice but to continue the teasing tone. "Ah, you suffer for knowing me then?"

"Suffer! A good epithet indeed."

Her eyes widened. He could not be referencing Shakespeare intentionally. It must be a coincidence, words that came to mind without consideration. That must be it - Mr Darcy would not be alluding to -

He must have remembered where the words came from - I do suffer love, for I love thee against my will - because caution flashed in his eyes and he turned, breaking the energy between them and leading her back to their seats by Charlotte.

"The good Lord only knows how I've suffered since!" Mr Darcy jested to lighten the mood.

Elizabeth played along, giving him a pitying glance. "Not a single day of peace since?" She picked up her abandoned teacup.

Mr Darcy tipped his head, thinking. "Christmas was tolerable."

The word caught her off guard, embarrassingly mid sip. Teasing man! Did he choose it on purpose? She coughed and cleared her throat, struggling to maintain her dignity. "High praise indeed," she managed weakly, wiping her mouth with her serviette.

"The highest I can give," Mr Darcy said quietly, and Elizabeth was inordinately grateful she was not currently drinking.

Charlotte was, though, and Elizabeth was selfishly glad her friend reacted no better. He considered "tolerable" praise? She would hate to hear what he deemed an insult. "The tea is against us today, it seems," she said as Charlotte finished mopping up her tea. "And not staying in our cups. It will be your turn next, Mr Darcy."

"It wouldn't dare," he declared in his haughtiest voice, and tilted his head and gave a sniff in a manner that was remarkably similar to Miss Bingley.

Elizabeth might have been able to keep her countenance, except Lady Catherine chose that moment to call his name. Mr Darcy startled and tea spilled down his chin. She covered her smile with her serviette and breathed deeply to avoid laughing as he cleaned up his own spilled tea.

"Come here and sit next to your cousin." Lady Catherine was scolding Mr Darcy as if he were lacking etiquette. "You are shirking your duty. Be a gentleman!"

Mr Darcy excused himself, but instead of taking the seat next to his cousin, Miss de Bourgh, he stopped in front of the colonel. "My dearest cousin," he intoned in a new, silky voice.

Elizabeth's eyes went wide as Mr Darcy - Mr Darcy - took his male cousin's hand and bowed over it with an exaggerated, obvious kiss. It made an audible smacking noise.

Elizabeth nearly slammed the serviette back over her face to muffle her surprised laughter. No one would ever believe this. She held a deep, shuddering breath to hear what Mr Darcy said next.

"I have been instructed to sit next to you, if I may."

Colonel Fitzwilliam was grinning widely as he pulled out a handkerchief and used it to fan his face, fluttering his eyelashes in an exaggerated copy of a coquette. "How can I refuse?" he said in a feminine voice, then held out his handkerchief and deliberately dropped it.

"Allow me," Mr Darcy said, in a voice that did something odd to Elizabeth's insides - or perhaps it was the view she was treated to as he bent to pick it up. She should not have looked. She was glad she did. "My dearest cousin," Mr Darcy said again, then turned and sat practically in the colonel's lap, until the latter was able to maneuver enough for them both to squeeze in the small space.

"Darcy!" Lady Catherine cried for the second time that evening, this time in offense, but then seemed to be speechless.

So was Elizabeth, who had tears in her eyes from the effort of holding in her laughter. Never, in a month of Sundays - or Thursdays, as the case may be - could she have imagined Mr Darcy behaving in such a way.

Miss de Bourgh spoke into the silence, seemingly unconcerned by her intended jestingly throwing her over in company. "Oh, forgive me Mr Collins, I must have - what were you saying?"

"I - that is - yes, we were speaking - or rather…" Mr Collins continued on, unable to regain whatever passed for thoughts in his head, but Elizabeth only had eyes for this new strange Mr Darcy.

He looked at her then and caught her staring at him. As if half the room wasn't gaping. She couldn't resist - "Who are you?" she mouthed silently, unable to stop her grin.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and though he seemed to try not to, he smiled.

It was the first time she would be leaving Mr Darcy's company with regret. She had never been so entertained at tea, of course, but it was more than that. There was a sort of connection between them now, since that moment in the woods - an awareness in the air that she was reluctant to relinquish. Mr Darcy offered his arm to see their party to the door, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to indulge in the ridiculous in case it evaporated tomorrow like the morning mist. She leaned in close enough to whisper to him. "You better not kiss my hand. I've seen where your lips have been."

Her eyes widened when Mr Darcy laughed outright, the sound ringing around the entryway. How gratifying to make him laugh! The unusual nature of the accomplishment must have been what made the sound so wonderful, and her heart take pride in it. He made no response but to grin widely and murmur the appropriate courtesies of leave-taking.

But when he handed her into the carriage - a civility she didn't realize until later he had only offered to her - she could have sworn he moved his thumb in a gentle motion over her fingers.

For the first time any man had ever held her hand for any reason, she did not want to let go.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth woke early, even though she had stayed up late chasing her thoughts back and forth about Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham. She looked forward to a nice walk to exorcise all the emotions roiling within her - shame over her behavior and judgment, amazement at Mr Darcy's behavior, then a quickening pulse at the idea of seeing him today. She was struck with the urge to take extra care with her appearance. It happened occasionally, she told herself, and had nothing to do with the possibility of encountering anyone on her walk. Besides, Mr Darcy was meeting with the steward this morning. What was the likelihood he would put off the steward two days in a row, just to chance meeting with her? But the gentlemen would likely call later to take their leave. It would be rude to tarry on her constitutional - better to leave now and be back with plenty of time.

Instead of taking her favorite walk that he had so often joined her on, she found herself drawn to the place where they had met yesterday. As she walked, she remembered her determination to make a new start with Mr Darcy and be guided by his current behavior instead of holding on to slights of the past. She had clearly judged too harshly before, as she admitted the prior night when Charlotte was teasing her about Mr Darcy flirting with her. Elizabeth had reminded her that Mr Darcy was intended for Miss de Bourgh and would not flirt with anyone, but Charlotte had just smiled her enigmatic smile and refused to recant. It had almost been like their friendship before Mr Collins.

To her surprise and no small amount of pleasure, she entered the glade to find Mr Darcy waiting for her. A smile spread across her face, and he returned it with one that lit his countenance - until his eyes widened.

"Your dress! It's blue!"

What was it about this man and his inane conversation? "Very good, Mr Darcy!" She slapped a hand over her mouth. Hadn't she just decided to give him the benefit of the doubt?

"I like it very much," he stammered. "It looks well on you. Everything looks well on you." He was blushing in a most endearing way. Who would have thought it?

At least it helped her feel better about her own blush. "Thank you," she managed.

"Would you do me the honor of walking with me? There is a stream I've been hoping to show you, if you are willing to go further."

"I am always interested in seeing a new wonder of the world." She eyed him with meaning, so he could be in no doubt that she included him as one.

He was silent as they began walking, and she was afraid they would return to the nature of their previous walks - awkwardly quiet except for his strange disjointed questions.

"Miss Bennet - what day is it?"

She hated being right. "Friday, I believe."

"Friday! Thank God!"

Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow at him. "Thank God…it is Friday?" He was clearly in the grip of some heightened emotion, and while it confused her, it stayed both her ire and the worst of her teases. "You leave Kent tomorrow, I understand?"

"Yes, we do!" He replied so enthusiastically, he looked almost boyish.

She smiled in amusement. "You sound very eager to be away."

"You've met my aunt."

He kept surprising her with his wit! She brought a hand to her mouth to cover her giggle. Was he testing her politeness? "You're trying to catch me out," she accused him.

Mr Darcy changed the subject. "And you? You will be in London soon?"

The man had learned polite conversation! She rejoiced in it. "Yes, on Saturday next. We'll meet my sister and stay for a few days with y aunt and uncle."

She had spoken too soon - he had used up all his words, apparently, and they walked in silence for a while. Well, this time she would take pity on him, and find something new to converse on to break the silence. He lived in town for part of the year, did he not? Perhaps he had some recommendations. "Do you -"

"May I call on you?"

The blurted interruption was so jarring that Elizabeth stopped walking. She turned to look at him. He wanted to continue their acquaintance? He wanted to call - on her - specifically? You are remarkable. "In Cheapside?" she clarified cautiously, in case he had forgotten her relations in trade.

"If that is where you'll be."

Mr Darcy showed no hint of distaste or jesting. "I suppose," she allowed, and he let out a breath of relief as they began walking again. Had he been so nervous to ask her? Had that been why he was silent before he spoke? That put their walks together in a whole new light. She couldn't help sneaking glances at him. Oftentimes, she accidentally caught his eye and realized he was doing the same. How that put their entire acquaintance in a new light! Her head was spinning. Occasionally, their clothing brushed against each other as they walked - her skirts enfolding his leg in brief caresses, their sleeves giving way into each other. It was playing havoc with her ability to think, but she didn't pull away.

When her emotions became so heightened she couldn't stand it, she introduced a new conversation. "I have been thinking about your sister…Do you trust her?"

"Of course," came the quick reply.

"Really? If she were put in the same situation again - in company with a charming deceiver, or an unscrupulous companion - you would still trust her?"

This time, he gave the question more thought. "I do believe she would make different choices, yes. Even if it was just to contact me or Colonel Fitzwilliam. She is more cautious now."

"I can understand why, poor dear. In order to rebuild her trust in people, it might help to demonstrate that you have trust in her. Maybe some assurance that your checking up on her is out of your concern for her well-being, not a fear that she is going to be fooled by someone because you let her out of your sight for five minutes." She remembered who she was talking to, and decided to go further with her conversational advice. "And if I want my younger sisters to confide in me, I often have to confide in them first."

He frowned. "I am afraid I do not have any related experiences."

Elizabeth checked a smile. She could not imagine Mr Darcy coming anywhere close to a reckless elopement. "It does not need to be about a similar situation, as long as it is a confidence you hold equally dear. There are few who have heart enough to be open without encouragement - it's easier to share your feelings with someone has just shared theirs." She glanced at his stern face. "And if possible, when they are not looking at you. I am always more successful at ferreting out secrets in the dark or when we are otherwise occupied with tasks."

"I often marvel at your insight." He was toying with a leaf, and not looking at her when he spoke, which she was grateful for. "Would you - or do I ask too much - may I introduce her to you while you are in town?"

Mr Darcy wanted to introduce his sister. He wanted to call on her. If she hadn't slept between the events of yesterday and now, she could have easily believed this to be a dream. "I would be delighted."

Just then the view gave way, the ground before them dropping to reveal a babbling stream that flowed through the trees. There was a rustic footbridge a ways downstream, which was more affectation than anything needed at its current width, but it added to the delightful picture. Tiny ripples appeared as insects or small fish touched the surface, fracturing the water and causing the dappled sunlight to glitter and dance. Not for the first time, Elizabeth wished she could accurately capture a scene in paint.

"Come," Mr Darcy smiled, and with a brief touch to her upper back, turned her to the nearest tree.

He disappeared around it and when she followed, she discovered the roots of the tree could serve as little steps to descend the embankment. He held out a hand to her, and she took it, feeling his firm grip as she followed him. "What a charming place," she cried rapturously. The hidden beauty, the feeling they were the only two people in the park, the way he was looking at her - it all made her feel as if there were some spell at play. If magic was real, it was present this morning.

"Richard - Colonel Fitzwilliam," he explained, "and I played here often as boys. We had many boat races to the footbridge."

And adorable picture entered her mind, of a curly headed boy racing with his friend, laughing as he reached out to touch the bridge. "Did Miss de Bourgh never come?"

"Once or twice. She could not abide the feel of mud on her hands, and I'm sad to say boys of eight and ten have little use for a girl of five unwilling to get her hands dirty. And then of course, she caught scarlatina. I'm not sure she has walked so far since." His face was still stern, but now Elizabeth had studied him enough to recognize the lines deepening his face as something close to melancholy.

Another mental picture emerged, of a young girl watching forlornly from a window as those two boys raced away, and shame lanced through Elizabeth as she remembered deriding Miss de Bourgh as sickly and cross. She had known nothing about the woman - still knew very little, in fact - but had rejoiced in misfortune because she had felt it would punish Mr Darcy to be tied to such a woman. Another uncomfortable feeling shot through her as she remembered that bit of news. Should she ask Mr Darcy about it?

But how did one go about such a thing? By the way, are you planning on getting married anytime soon? It could not be true. She had heard it from Mr Wickham, who could not be trusted. She had heard something of the sort from Mr Collins, but Elizabeth had never considered him knowledgeable on any other subject. And Mr Darcy had asked to call on her - he would never do such a thing if he were bound for another. She did not need to ask.

She looked down at the water, coming almost to the edge to hide her face. "It is such a peaceful spot, thank you for showing it to me. Did you play with anyone else here?" She began removing her gloves.

"Richard's older brother Anthony, but he is nearly ten years my senior and therefore did not often have time for us."

She crouched down to slide her fingers into the cool water, swaying them back and forth to feel the drag against her skin, and she sensed more than saw him come closer. The shadow he cast over her warred with the warmth radiating from his body, and his quiet voice as he spoke was mesmerizing.

"I will not have you think him cold - he spent plenty of time helping Richard and I improve our horsemanship - but he was a young man in school, not a boy in the nursery. Richard and Anne are the closest cousins I have in age, so we spent the most time together. I don't know if I have mentioned that he shares guardianship of Georgiana with me." He crouched next to her, and their knees brushed as he leaned forward to touch the water. Was it the distortion of the reflection, or were his hands really that much larger than hers?

She pulled her focus back to the conversation. Between his disclosure yesterday and what he was sharing today, Elizabeth was fairly certain she had heard him say more than in the entirety of their previous acquaintance, and she didn't want him to be discouraged by her distraction. "She is lucky to have such able protection."

His whole being sagged, ever so slightly, and she leaned into him just as imperceptibly to garner his attention. "I meant it sincerely, not as a chastisement."

Mr Darcy gave her a reassuring smile. "I did not take it as such." His eyes met hers, and they were just as dappled and flecked with color as the stream in the sunlight. Suddenly, he looked at the sky, then his watch. "I am afraid I need to start heading back soon, if I am to meet with the steward."

She lurched a little, as if she had been falling, and stood up to cover. "Ah, yes. The meeting you rescheduled in order to…see to more important things." What would he say to that?

"Indeed."

Well, she supposed she could only expect so many miracles. She followed him to the tree and before she took the first step, he had taken her hand in one of his and wrapped the other almost around her waist. Warmth flooded where he touched, and she had the giddy feeling that he could easily lift her with one arm even though he was barely pressing against her back as they climbed. A moment later - several heartbeats, more than usual - he opened his fingers. Her hand lay in his, and Elizabeth noticed that yes, hers was smaller. She reclaimed her hand…at least physically.

"May I escort you back to the parsonage?"

Elizabeth remembered to breathe again. "It won't cause you to be late?"

"Not at the pace you set."

His smiles were brighter than she remembered, teasing man! "For shame, Mr Darcy," she chided. "Now I must choose whether to walk slowly and prove you wrong, or walk faster than usual to rise the challenge."

The corners of his mouth lined in a way that she was coming to realize was him fighting a smile, though his voice was almost as solemn as ever. "A true dilemma. And what will you decide?"

"Perhaps I will fluctuate my speed in order to keep you on your toes."

He dropped the game, giving her an earnest and full smile that brought his face to life. "You always do."

She tipped her head to hide her blush with her bonnet, and took his proffered arm. They did not speak as much on the way back, but Elizabeth was far from upset by it. Mr Darcy guided them on a more direct route than the meandering path, occasionally pointing out a view or flower as they passed. He never walked too fast for her, though he was taller; he never walked slow enough that she felt they were dawdling. It was as if they were perfectly matched.

They parted at the road. He offered to see her to the gate, but Elizabeth sent him on to his meeting and watched him walk down the lane toward Rosings with a jaunty spring in his step she had never noticed before. She turned toward the parsonage, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks and realizing she would need to don her gloves. She was grateful they had not parted within view of the parsonage!

Normally, a walk and some time in nature would calm her emotions, but this morning had definitely had the opposite effect. She sailed through the parsonage, greeting Charlotte and Maria briefly before escaping up to her room to change. In truth, she flung herself onto her bed and laid there to relive the morning.

-o-

Elizabeth had set down her needlework to take yet another walk about the room, unable to settle herself. It was only natural to glance out the window and admire the view each time she did so. Before she reached it, Maria looked up from her watercolors and gave a little noise of excitement. "The gentlemen from Rosings are calling!"

Elizabeth couldn't help hastening to the window to see the two figures coming up the path. Mr Darcy jostled his cousin like a schoolboy and she grinned at the unexpected sight, quickly moving away from the window and back to tidy her embroidery.

Maria began gathering up her watercolors, and Charlotte tucked her workbasket back under her chair. When the gentlemen were announced, all three were sitting demurely, although Charlotte was probably the only one who was as calm as she seemed.

Elizabeth found herself exchanging smiles with Mr Darcy and almost jumped in surprise to discover the colonel had slid into the seat next to her.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam! How do you do today?"

He sent her a knowing smile. "I am very well indeed, Miss Bennet. I hope you do not mind me sitting with you?"

She fought to keep her composure. "You are always welcome, of course." The colonel was excellent company. They had almost always sat together at one point or another when they were in company together, and it had previously been the highlight of each engagement. Elizabeth wondered why she was so lacking in excitement for it this time. Mr Darcy was across the room, speaking with Charlotte. "We will be sorry to lose your company at Rosings, though I understand Mr Darcy is eager to be away. Do you share his feelings?"

The colonel quickly schooled an incredulous look. "I would imagine even more so. I don't believe my cousin is as eager to leave as you say, or we would have left the first or even second time I had expected to. We do not usually visit so long, you know - but I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases."

"And if he is unable to please himself in the arrangement…" Elizabeth hesitated. "Perhaps he can at least please his sister." How differently she might have answered only yesterday, lampooning him over doing only what he liked with no thought to others! Now she had a greater awareness of how keenly he felt his responsibilities to others, and it stayed her tongue. "I understand Miss Darcy is in town - will you see her as well? I understand you share guardianship of her with Mr Darcy."

"I do," he acknowledged. "I look forward to seeing her very much. She has been staying with my family to more easily continue her studies while Darcy and I have been in Kent."

"I have heard she is a great pianist?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled. "She is excellent, although she is quite shy and has not performed much for company. I am always honored when she favors me with a song."

Elizabeth was unaccountably curious about this young girl. It was strange to hear so much of someone before you had even met them. Miss Darcy had been an abstract idea before, and one that Elizabeth had fleshed out based on the testimony of Miss Bingley and Mr Wickham - she no longer trusted anything either of them had said. The image she had constructed was entirely at odds with the way the Colonel and Mr Darcy spoke of Miss Darcy! Elizabeth pulled her eyes away from Mr Darcy to attend to her conversation partner. "I am sure she could put my playing to shame."

"Your playing has its own charms, as I believe we have spoken of before."

"Why Colonel," she teased, "I do believe you are trying to flatter me!"

"I hope it's working," he sallied. "I would be very much surprised if this is the last time we meet, and I would like to build up some goodwill ahead of time."

Her eyes once again sought Mr Darcy, wondering if he had said anything of her to his cousin. She saw him now in three-quarters profile, attentively listening to Maria spouting off about who knew what. From the way Charlotte was smiling, her sister had probably been going on for some time - she babbled when she was nervous or excited - but Mr Darcy was showing no signs of impatience or boredom. Elizabeth marveled once again at the contrast to his behavior from Hertfordshire, when he seemed to dismiss anyone who spoke to him about trivialities. She smiled at this new evidence of his goodness.

He may have felt her eyes on him - or was merely looking her way, as he was wont to do - but he looked over then and locked eyes with her. There was a softness about them she had not noticed before, and an idea began to form that though his lips barely turned up, his true smile lay in his eyes. He said so much with his gaze, and Elizabeth might have spent more time deciphering it except the colonel gave a tiny cough next to her and she turned back to him in embarrassment.

"Do you have any recommendations for what to see while I am in town with my sister?" she asked hastily, and they shared a quite merry conversation for the rest of the visit. Elizabeth ignored the twinkle in his eye.

When the gentlemen took their leave - Mr Darcy bowing over each lady's hand, just like his cousin, causing Maria to blush - Elizabeth found herself walking them to the entrance. "Safe travels, Colonel, Mr Darcy."

The latter bowed over her hand then, and for a brief moment Elizabeth thought he would kiss it. He did not, and Elizabeth shoved down the flutter in her belly as she once again looked into his eyes.

"A letter!" he blurted. "I should have offered to carry a letter to your sister for you."

"Oh!" She was struck by the idea. If Mr Darcy carried a letter - would Mr Bingley hear, and accompany him? "I do not have one ready just now, but I do owe her one - what time do you leave tomorrow?" She would wake up before dawn if it meant hope for Jane.

"Not so early that I could not stop by."

"Yet another assumption about you I'm forced to reassess," Elizabeth told him, only half teasing. "I would have expected you to be on your way at first light."

"Not at all." Mr Darcy shifted, his foot coming down heavily on his cousin's. "Oh, my apologies, Richard, didn't realize you were close enough for me to trod on."

She narrowed her eyes. Had that been intentional? Was he angling for time alone? Her pulse raced.

"No lasting harm done, Darcy," the colonel was saying, "but it is a bit crowded in the entryway - I'll wait outside, shall I? Miss Bennet," and he bowed and left, limping slightly from where he had been stepped on.

Oh, why was she blushing! It was as if she had never been alone with a man before. It wasn't even her first time alone with Mr Darcy! But it was her first time receiving a particular farewell…

"Truth be told, I do mean to leave too early for a proper morning call, but not earlier than we have met for our walks."

Elizabeth couldn't help but raise her eyebrows. So he had been intentionally meeting her!

"Er, when we have happened to meet on our separate walks, that is," Mr Darcy amended, blushing.

She smiled at the sight. "Well, I will write Jane as I planned to do, and if we should happen to meet by the gate when I take my walk in the morning I may press you into service as my courier." His blush, his nervous smile, it was having an effect on her and she had to escape before she did something irrevocably foolish, giving him ideas that she felt more than she did. She bid him farewell, curtsying quickly and leaving before he could take her hand again.

Charlotte gave her a bright, expectant smile as she reentered the drawing room. Elizabeth shook her head, but curiosity won out over everything else and she sat herself in the seat Mr Darcy had vacated. "What on earth were you speaking about with Mr Darcy for so long, Maria?"

The young girl spared her a happy look, but kept most of her attention on pulling out her watercolors again. "Oh, ever so much! We spoke of fashion, and traveling, and flowers, and Kensington Gardens - and Rosings, of course. He was very kind, wasn't he Charlotte?"

Elizabeth, surprised, looked at her friend for confirmation.

Charlotte smiled and nodded. "He was indeed. He also mentioned he had stayed in Kent longer than usual," and she gave Elizabeth a pointed look.

Elizabeth could not meet her gaze. "The colonel did mention that Mr Darcy had extended their stay." She tried to keep her voice casual, but she was not sure she managed it. She was almost ready to confide in Charlotte that Mr Darcy had asked to call on her, but with a quick glance at Maria judged it to be the wrong time. "Would you mind terribly if I wrote to Jane?"

She escaped upstairs to her room. Her head was full of Mr Darcy and it took more copies than usual to get a letter out to her sister. After the first two attempts, she decided not to mention any of her hopes for Mr Bingley. Who knew what the real situation was there - although it seemed less likely than ever that he was off courting Miss Darcy, after what she had heard yesterday morning - and she did not want to pain Jane with reminders or hopes that could never come to pass.

She had to pause for dinner, and spent a very enjoyable if distracted evening with the Collinses and Maria. Somewhere around the middle of her visit, Elizabeth's patience with Mr Collins had reached an all time low. Now, the closer the time came to when Elizabeth and Maria would depart, the more in charity she was with her cousin and willing to endure his foibles. For all his faults - and in Elizabeth's eyes, they were many - he did seem to care for Charlotte in his own way. At least, he was polite to her when they all came together of an evening, and it had been a strange day for Elizabeth when she realized that in that way he had surpassed her father.

Charlotte, thankfully, did not bring up Mr Darcy while Mr Collins was in the room other than to say he had called. When Mr Collins withdrew to work on his sermon, Elizabeth also hastened away to finish her letter, promising Charlotte with her eyes and another glance at Maria they could speak privately on the morrow.

Elizabeth attempted a third copy of her letter to Jane, but it was much too disjointed and had too many crossed out words to be legible. She left the desk and walked about the room, spending so much time reviewing all that had happened the past two days it was full dark before she thought she knew what she might say. She had so much new information and was so much changed in her thinking that it felt as if more had taken place than really had! By the time she finished writing out the last copy, Elizabeth still wasn't entirely satisfied but did not want to spare any more time or paper.

She went to bed with her thoughts full of Mr Darcy. She spent a surprising amount of time dwelling on the way he had held her in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder… or the way her hand had felt in his.

She dreamt of walking in the woods with him, as he looked at her and smiled.

-o-

My dearest Jane,

Are you surprised by my messenger? No more surprised than I am, I assure you, and I feel I must ask you to sit down as there are more shocks in store. Nothing at all bad, but so astounding I cannot account for it.

I do not even know how to phrase this in a letter. You know I am always better at explaining during a conversation when you can ask me questions that I can answer, but I will do my best to give you an overview until we see each other next week - how I long to speak with you, to help me make sense of what has happened!

You must remember that I mentioned Mr Darcy was staying at Rosings with his aunt Lady Catherine, and that his manners were no more improved than they were in Hertfordshire, and that I was spared his company most of the time. Since that letter, it changed - he began calling at the parsonage and finding me on my walks, even though I warned him away from where I would be walking when. I thought it a great coincidence that we continued to meet. Have I been so blind? He remained his silent self and I could not account for his presence.

Until yesterday. I walked in a different direction hoping to escape his company and was greatly put out that he still managed to find me. But he was not silent, Jane, not at all! Is it possible for a person to be replaced by someone who looks and sounds just like them? You must tell me when I arrive which Mr Darcy shows up to deliver this letter - the one we knew in Hertfordshire, or the one who actually speaks and is free with his smiles. He complimented me prettily several times, very nearly apologized for his previous behaviour, and told me he wants me to know him better. And that does not even begin to describe him when we went to tea! At first I thought Hertfordshire Mr Darcy had returned, as he was doing his staring out the window trick, but then he teased me, and his cousin, and made himself ridiculous in front of the whole party. I thought Mr Collins' jaw might drop entirely off his face and onto the floor!

I must now admit that I should have listened to you, my sweetest and most trusting sister, when you warned that maybe we should not believe Mr Wickham so fully on such short acquaintance. I cannot give any particulars but to say that whatever dislike Mr Darcy holds for him is more than justified, and we have been greatly deceived as to Mr Wickham's character. I am ashamed to have championed him so readily, and to have excused him of mercenary motives toward Miss King. Poor Miss King! But what can be done now? I do think her romantically attached to him, so we can only hope that will endure.

Speaking of romantic attachments, Charlotte has been teasing me ever since Mr Darcy arrived in the area, saying that he must be in love with me. I dismissed the fanciful notion but are you sitting down as I requested, dear Jane? I would not go so far as to say he is - I reminded her of his supposed engagement to his cousin - but we have met FOUR times in the past two days, he has complimented me regularly, and most telling of all - he has asked to call on me! I suppose he cannot be engaged - he is far too honorable to pay a lady any particular attention if he were already betrothed. I reminded him I would be staying in Cheapside, thinking to warn him off, but he did not so much as lift a sardonic eyebrow. The Mr Darcy I thought I knew would have required a month's ablutions after a visit to our uncle's, but is it too soon for me to say I am intrigued by this new Mr Darcy? He has asked to introduce me to his sister - he called me remarkable - I am all astonishment! I will admit to you, and only you, that he is exceptionally handsome when he smiles. Although I suppose we knew he had fine looks from the start, and it was only his manner of scowling that marred them. Well he is not scowling at me now, Jane, and it is making it very hard to remember how much I disliked him before, which I find very unfair.

I know I will see you in a mere week, but if you have any time at all I must beg you for a letter to tide me over. What can you possibly make of this? I need my dearest Jane to speak sense into my ear, as you always do.

Your most affectionate sister,

EB

Chapter Text

Elizabeth stood at the window facing the lane, waiting to see Mr Darcy before slipping outside so no one saw her lingering at the gate and wondered. It wasn't as if she had written him a letter, but no one else had been around when he made the offer to carry one and she didn't want them getting the wrong idea. She spent the time wondering how she could politely bring up the subject of Mr Bingley - surely she could manufacture some way to have Jane cross his path while they were both in London?

When she saw Mr Darcy's familiar figure approaching, she slipped outside and met him just as he reached the gate. He was smiling at her again, and something giddy bubbled up inside her.

"Good morning, Mr Darcy. No Colonel Fitzwilliam this morning?" She wondered if he had needed to sneak out around his cousin the way she had slipped through the house to avoid hers.

"I thought it a kindness to leave him abed as long as possible. I expect he will be waiting for me by the time I return."

"I am sure you eager to be on your way." She held out her letter for Jane. "I managed to finish a letter for Jane after all. My uncle's direction is on it as well."

He was slow in putting it in his pocket. "I will deliver it as soon as may be. Although…"

He trailed off, and instantly Elizabeth was furious. Of course he was hesitating now. He had realized he'd have to enter Cheapside and consort with a tradesman, and decided she was not worth it in the end. How stupid she had been to think he had discarded his pride -

"I do believe Bingley will be back in town tomorrow," he continued. "I do not know his plans - if he is available to accompany me even if I delay - but do you think we would be welcome on Monday?"

Shame slipped through her and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She had once again leapt to conclusions and been utterly, embarrassingly wrong. What was it about this man that tore all her confidence to shreds? Not only was he still showing no signs of disdain about her relatives, he was seemingly willing to reunite his friend with Jane - before she even asked! "I have heard nothing that would make me believe otherwise. Based on my understanding, you would both be very welcome any day you are available."

He was looking at her face intently. "And you travel there Saturday next?"

"I do, yes. We will not stay there long… A few days before we return to Hertfordshire is all that is planned." She had been so eager to be home, before, but now… even if Mr Darcy called while she was there, would that be it? Would he return to Netherfield and endure her family? Did she want him to?

"Then I will ensure Georgiana and I have no other obligations during that time." He was giving that slight, half smile he wore so often when he looked at her. It did not seem so satirical anymore.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement at a window. "I should not keep you," she said quickly. "I do hope you travel safely, Mr Darcy."

He caught her eyes and her hand, bowing to press a light kiss to her fingers without looking away. "I hope the same for you in a week's time, and a very enjoyable rest of your stay in Kent." He was looking down at her, still holding her hand. Had he stepped closer? "Until we meet again, Miss Bennet."

Mr Darcy released her hand, and she gave him a full smile before curtsying and hurrying away so she could blush in peace.

-o-

She wandered for a time, but the day was overcast and threatened rain. Surely that was why it felt so lackluster? She had been walking for only half an hour or so before turning back toward the parsonage.

As she entered the parsonage, Mr Collins' agitated voice cut through the air. "My dear Charlotte, why did you not tell me immediately?"

Charlotte's voice was calm and soothing. "And what could you have done but miss dinner, when I happened to know Mr Wood was to dine out and would not have been available? Now you have had a hearty breakfast and will have as much time as you need."

Elizabeth would have continued to her room, but she was arrested by what Mr Collins said next. "A man of Mr Darcy's station is used to things being attended to directly!"

"If Mr Darcy had thought it so important, surely he would have sought you out instead of relating a message through me."

Now burning with curiosity, Elizabeth changed direction and reached the parlor door just as Mr Collins came barreling out it.

"Cousin Elizabeth!" he cried, barely stopping to make hasty bow. Even as he spoke, he moved away. "I have no time to stop, I am afraid - I must be off! I have duties to see to!" Turning, he quit the house and sped at an impressive pace down the lane toward Rosings.

She sought out Charlotte, who was once more sitting with her sewing basket. "What was that all about?"

Her friend gave a welcoming smile. "Mr Darcy requested help with seeing to the tenant needs at Rosings."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You did not mention that to me."

"We have not spoken of much, lately." Charlotte's face was impassive, but Elizabeth thought she detected a measure of sadness in her voice.

For the first time, it occurred to Elizabeth that Charlotte might also be grieving the loss of their friendship, and felt a little embarrassed that she had not considered it before. Charlotte had given up so much in her quest to have a house of her own, and as much as Elizabeth had a hard time believing it was worth it, she did not want her friend unhappy for all her days. Abashed, she took a seat and gathered her courage to speak.

"I am sorry for it, Charlotte." She hesitated, unable or unwilling to dive into the nature of their friendship. As usual, she reached instead for levity. "Perhaps I was merely unwilling to admit that you may be right."

"I am happy you finally acknowledge it. In which matter have you come to your senses?" The tease was light, but Elizabeth blushed anyway.

"Mr Darcy has asked to call on me."

There was the briefest flicker of surprise before Charlotte's expression settled in to one of satisfaction. "I am so pleased for you, Eliza. You will be very well settled."

"It is not a proposal!" Elizabeth cried. "You speak as if it is all decided."

"Do you really think Mr Darcy is the type of man to single out ladies impulsively? I imagine he is more the sort to refrain from choosing a path until he is completely certain he wishes to travel it in its entirety."

Elizabeth begrudgingly agreed with her friend's assessment, but did not feel ready to capitulate. "Be that as it may, I have not decided on him. I am not the sort to submit to a man on such short notice just to be well settled." Then, realizing what she had said and to whom, tried to backtrack. "Oh, not that - I did not mean -"

But Charlotte, as inscrutable as ever, simply put down her sewing. "I know you did not, Eliza, it is of no matter."

At that moment Maria peered tentatively around the door. "Is Mr Collins…set to rights now?"

"He will be just fine once he has had some time to absorb the unexpected change in his routine. If you will excuse me, I need to speak to the cook about dinner."

Elizabeth, feeling wretched, watched Charlotte leave the room. She really must learn to think before she spoke!

Maria flopped into the seat Charlotte had vacated. "I had never heard Mr Collins so upset! He was very worried about disappointing Mr Darcy. And I suppose I can understand why, but maybe he does not know him very well yet? I used to be afraid of him last autumn, but how could I be after he was so silly at tea? And he was ever so kind yesterday. Perhaps if Mr Collins got the chance to sit down to speak with Mr Darcy, he wouldn't be so afraid anymore. Although, perhaps Mr Darcy has no interest in sitting down with Mr Collins? Oh dear. That's something I shouldn't say, isn't it?"

She had to smile at the younger girl's unfettered thoughts. "Mr Darcy definitely improves upon acquaintance," she acknowledged.

"Do you still hate him?"

Elizabeth blushed. "No, Maria. I definitely do not hate him."

-o-

Later that day they were once again in the drawing room at their separate pursuits when they heard the return of Mr Collins, calling as soon as he was through the front door.

"Mrs Collins! Mrs Collins!" He entered the room, panting as if he had been running. "My dear Charlotte, Mr Darcy has set for us a daunting task. At first Mr Wood only wanted to give me the smaller list but I insisted on knowing everything Mr Darcy desired - at last I was able to procure the original after convincing Mr Wood to make himself another copy. I am well pleased that he should bestow this honor upon us, but there is much to be done -"

"Come sit, my dear, and let me look over the list," Charlotte broke in gently. She rang for some tea and settled her grateful husband in a chair.

Elizabeth couldn't help laying aside her embroidery and drawing closer as Charlotte prised the papers out of his hand, so she was in a position to see her friend's eyes widen as she looked at the list. Mr Collins was repeating himself about the honor of seeing to Mr Darcy's needs and Elizabeth was grateful when the tea arrived to grant them all a reprieve from his blather. Her hand hovered over the list as Charlotte prepared her husband's tea.

"May I?" she asked, and Charlotte granted her approval with a smile.

She could easily understand why Charlotte's eyes had widened. A small, even script filled the page. At the top was instructions - for the steward, presumably - to negotiate next quarter credits to two families for housing together and compensation for building materials. It was followed by an alphabetical list of what seemed to be every tenant on the estate with details as to recent events or necessities.

Elizabeth found herself murmuring snippets aloud as she scanned through. " …In need of an apprenticeship; provide list of openings at Rosings…New baby. See last page for details of baskets provided at Pemberley…Chimney needs cleaning. Getting on in years; approach Abernathy, Jackson, Smith families for youth who could assist…Recently recovered from mumps…Windows need replacing -" Elizabeth broke off, eyes wide. "Charlotte, there are six pages here!"

Charlotte took the last page and looked over the extensive writing. "This is what every tenant receives when they have a new child? This is generous indeed!"

Elizabeth wished her friend had not followed up her comment with a pointed look in her direction, but could not deny the statement. For once, she almost could not fault Mr Collins his anxiety over pleasing; they were going to have a very busy week ahead of them.

-o-

After church the next day, Lady Catherine commanded them to attend her at Rosings again, because apparently no one felt the loss of friends more keenly than she. At dinner, she spoke extensively of how fond she was of her nephews and how fond they were of her: "Even at the last, Darcy was finding ways to delay his departure. He is usually so particular about leaving at first light."

Charlotte looked at Elizabeth, who gave her a warning glance and flicked her eyes to the matron presiding at the head of the table.

The lady was still speaking. "His attachment to Rosings certainly increases."

"I am quite certain I fully understand why," Mr Collins simpered ingratiatingly at Miss de Bourgh, which made Lady Catherine and Elizabeth smile for very different reasons.

Mr Collins attempted to speak on the duties Mr Darcy had passed on, but when Lady Catherine declared it was vulgar to speak of one's tenants at table he soon lapsed into silence.

That night, Charlotte once again tried to speak about Mr Darcy's attachment, but Elizabeth found herself unaccountably annoyed at Charlotte's tone. She wondered at it, but could not quell her irritation. It took all of her patience to put Charlotte off, claiming it was because the rain had prevented her walking.

The rain continued for the next two days, keeping the ladies indoors. They were very busy sewing and preparing baskets for the tenants - luckily the steward had brought them supplies and had procured several things from the village - and most of the time was spent relatively cheerfully.

Elizabeth was of a mind to knit back the closeness she and Charlotte had shared. She had many fond memories of sitting and sewing with the older woman as they chatted away. And honestly, Charlotte seemed unchanged - she was just as she had been in Hertfordshire. She was calm, steady, and quite willing to spend the whole of the morning speaking lightly on the people and happenings in the village.

Elizabeth was unsure if it was just the circumstances or her outlook that had changed, but it no longer seemed satisfying. It was true that she was not well acquainted with any of the people Charlotte spoke of, if at all; yet it was also true that passing comments kept prompting recollections of things that Mr Darcy or even Mr Wickham had said, causing her to re-examine people's words and motivations, including her own.

By the time the sun returned and allowed Elizabeth to escape on a short walk in the garden, as the ground was too wet to venture farther, she had come to realize that her friendship with Charlotte had always been this superficial. They had little truly in common, though that had previously been masked by being in such close proximity and moving in the same circles. Elizabeth knew they would always be on friendly terms, but their relationship would never be what it had been. She had the feeling that in one year, or five, or ten, she would be able to visit Charlotte and find her friend exactly as she had always been. But Elizabeth felt as if she was on the precipice of change - who knew what her life might be like, soon? Who knew who Elizabeth could become?

With a bittersweet sigh, Elizabeth let go of her hopes of reclaiming their intimacy, and returned to the house to begin distributing the baskets to the tenants.

-o-

The closest tenants were the Bakewells, who according to Mr Darcy's notes were the couple getting on in years who could use extra help around the house. Mrs Bakewell was a talkative woman, a little aloof but not unkind. She was adamant that she did not need a basket and had demurred more than once already, but hesitation to be seen in need wasn't uncommon.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth could tell by the set of Mrs Bakewell's mouth that she fully meant to refuse the charity. She didn't know if Charlotte would recognize it - Lucas Lodge had no tenants. Thinking quickly, she blurted, "They are in honor of Easter! Mr Darcy left us very particular instructions about what the tenants at Pemberley receive, and asked us to assist in getting a basket to every tenant here." That was technically true, although she had omitted certain information.

The older woman's hand, lifted to push the basket back across the table, instead curled around the edge. "Oh, this is Mr Darcy's doing, is it? 'E's a nice young man, 'e is. When our Thomas broke 'is arm, Mr Darcy 'elped 'im 'ome 'isself and insisted the apothecary come take a look. Course, that was when 'is father was still alive. 'E was a good man too, always making sure we was taken care of. Fancied my mince pie, 'e did. The younger Mr Darcy, 'e never says a word against anything you serve 'im, but I can tell 'e prefers my ginger snaps. 'E always takes seconds of those when I 'ave 'em. Our Thomas says they're the best around, 'e does."

Charlotte, relieved, expressed interest in her recipe and spent some time in conversation comparing it to her own. Elizabeth was glad for it, because she was still reeling from the information Mrs Bakewell had shared about Mr Darcy.

How many times had he visited his aunt's tenants, for them to demonstrate such trust? She had never imagined him so involved with the running of his own estate, let alone a family member's. Once again, the memory of him brokenly reciting a list of how he felt he had failed rose in her mind. How much did he oversee? And for Mrs Bakewell to view him as nice, to laud him for his assistance!

It was oddly gratifying to know he liked ginger snaps.

It was the same at each house they visited. Elizabeth found herself invoking Mr Darcy's name even when it wasn't necessary, just out of fascination for what people might say.

"Oh, the Darcy's is good people," said a plump matron as she kneaded dough and corralled three small children with expert motions. "Me mum is from Derbyshire and came to Kent when 'er Ladyship settled 'ere. I think she still 'as friends at Pemberley, though they're all gettin' on in years. But it's all well with them - the Darcys still take care of their people."

The worst opinion anyone had was ambivalence. "Not bad, for a swell," a younger man shrugged. "Things always seem to get done when 'e visits, so..." Another shrug.

By the end of the week, a very different portrait of Mr Darcy had been painted in Elizabeth's mind. She knew she had not been wholly wrong about his behavior in Hertfordshire, but began to wonder how much of it had been tainted by her initial dislike of him. Her new understanding was of a man more concerned with his responsibilities than with levity; one who was economical with his conversation but free with his assistance; a serious man who did not make merry for the sake of pleasing others.

She contrasted this last aspect to Mr Wickham, whose conversation had been so pleasing to her in the moment but now seemed so hollow. She could not recall any subject on which they had spoke with any depth or seriousness beyond that of Mr Darcy - the quips about her neighbors that had made her giggle and feel superior during parties now seemed mean-spirited and brought her shame. Mr Darcy had referred to his cruelty hidden behind pretty terms, and she felt terrible for not recognizing it before.

On the other hand, Mr Darcy had rarely spoken of shallow topics. Elizabeth might have wished he engaged in more of the social niceties, but the conversations they had shared - even as far back as Netherfield, when she only wished to antagonize him - were more meaningful and revealed much about him or the way he viewed the world. Even his strange, disjointed questions here in Kent she now realized was him trying to gauge her interest in the life she wanted to live - and how she blushed at how she had not understood, when he spoke of her living far from her family or staying at the grand house of Rosings when next she visited!

The more she thought and remembered, comparing the two men, the more one sunk in her esteem while the other rose. She could recall no good of Mr Wickham, but had ample evidence of the goodness of Mr Darcy. Elizabeth feared her vanity was unabated, but could not help being flattered by the attentions of such a man. The memory of his earnest eyes on her, his kiss to her hand, even the rich sound of his laughter - all caused such flutterings inside her that she began to fear turning into her mother.

It was at this point - when her feelings for Mr Darcy were the warmest they had ever been - that a letter from Jane arrived. Elizabeth eagerly ran out into the garden with it, so that she might devour it in peace. She was glad she did, for an exclamation of joy escaped her lips before she had finished the second sentence.

My dearest Lizzy,

I hardly know what to think, let alone write! You may be laughing at me, my dearest, but I had no notion when I woke up today that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy would be visiting our uncle's doorstep today! My first thought - and it was some moments before I was capable of thinking anything - was how surprised you would be when I wrote you of it. What a joke it turned out to be when Mr Darcy informed me it was your doing! But you did not mention Mr Bingley at all in your letter - though even had you, it would still have given me no warning.

I am telling it out of order. I have had hours before I started writing this letter and I still cannot settle my mind. The gentlemen were announced and our aunt looked at me with surprise, as if I would be capable of providing an answer. She offered to say we are not at home but you know I could never do such a thing even if I had not been hoping for Mr Bingley's call. I am afraid I must have been frightfully awkward, but I was astonished by their visit and even more so when after they entered, Mr Bingley was the one who was silent and staring, and Mr Darcy made polite conversation with our aunt. Some strange madness came over me - I cannot but think that as I was holding your letter tightly and wishing so fiercely for your presence, Lizzy, I was blessed with your spirit for a moment - and I asked Mr Bingley, quite brazenly, how Miss Darcy has been!

"Oh, good for you, Jane!" Elizabeth felt a perverse sense of satisfaction that her sister had been as astonished by Mr Darcy's change in manners as herself, but her eyes were already hastily scanning ahead to take in the letter.

He seemed confused and I think meant to say he had not been in company with her - Mr Darcy stepped in, saying you had told him of Miss Bingley's letter and that he felt it necessary to contradict her inaccuracies. You have been very sly, Lizzy! What sort of conversation were you having with Mr Darcy to canvas that subject?

In confusion, Elizabeth actually dropped her hand with the letter away in order to stare into the middle distance, trying to recall speaking of it at all to him. She had hinted on more than one occasion that Jane was in town, but could only recall obliquely mentioning her sister's low spirits and had no recollection of alluding to why. She certainly had not spoken of Miss Bingley to him! But it was not long before she found herself reading on.

Mr Bingley seemed to have no inkling of what the letter said. He asked to walk - even though it had been raining a mere hour before - and I could not pass up the opportunity to see what on earth he would have to say for himself after so long.

And can you guess, my Lizzy? I hope you are somewhere private when you crow in triumph at being right, as I know you must - for he loves me! He loved me then and he loves me still, and I was so overcome I began crying in front of him. I was mortified and told him it was too much, too fast. I sent him away and told him to return tomorrow, and now I am filled with regret and fear he will not come, even though he promised me faithfully that nothing could keep him away.

Oh, how I wish you were here to make me see sense! After months of wishing for his presence and addresses, the moment I had both I was thrown into such agitation I could only wish them away again. He said that he had been convinced I would marry him only for the sake of my family - that we were friends and nothing more - that in his love for me, he thought staying away was the only thing he could do. He said it was agony, Lizzy, to go through life without me, but he wanted me to find someone to love with my whole heart. As if he did not hold mine in both hands! As if his name has not been written on a piece of it since our very first dance! I told him that I could not yet forgive him for being so incredibly foolish - and in my heart, you were cheering me on, but dearest Lizzy, sitting here alone in my room I cannot be so happy. I admit I wish the words unsaid. Hoping for answers I even asked him to wait while I read your letter - or tried to, as my hands were shaking too much for it to be clear. All I could make out was that it had no mention of Mr Bingley. I badly needed solitude, so I told him I would be at home for him tomorrow - and then your courage possessed me again, and I told him if he did not come I would not spend all my mornings hoping for him.

How I wish you by my side! I will not send this letter yet, for one way or another tomorrow may decide the fate of my heart, and I will need to pour out my joy or my grief to this paper, since it is the closest I can be to you for several more days.

"Oh, Jane!" What torment she must have felt! But it had not lasted long, for there was more:

How shall I bear such happiness, my dearest Lizzy? It is almost too much! That I could see you and everybody as happy as I!

You may surmise by my writing that Mr Bingley did show up this morning after all, and my fears were as groundless as you were no doubt telling me as you read the above. Aunt Gardiner let us go into the garden - luckily it was not so wet as it had been yesterday - and it was all I could do to keep my composure and ask how he had been keeping these last few months. I was trembling so much, Lizzy, I am sure he thought I was cold or ill. And he told me how much he had missed me and spent so much time wishing he were back in Hertfordshire that - oh, I am ashamed of myself but I know you will understand - I grew quite hurt that he would go on so, because if he had missed me so much surely he could have come to see me? So when he asked about my winter, I actually told him truly what it had been like in December, with everyone constantly asking as if I knew when he would return and putting on a smile while my heart broke more each time.

Elizabeth felt a burst of pride at reading what might be the most unforgiving thing Jane had ever said, if only that her sister might be standing up for herself. No more would she be taken in by false friends!

And I asked him to account for why - if he was so certain I was a lost cause - he suddenly came after all this time. And he said that Mr Darcy had heard something from you about my low spirits - don't think you will escape interrogation on that subject, my dear sister - and it gave him enough hope that he had to come see me one more time, in case there was any hope of winning my heart. I told him it was too late for that and didn't realize the possible meaning of my words until poor Charles - for I now have the right to call him aloud and in writing how I have secretly thought of him in my heart! Oh, he went quite pale and I had to take his hand and assure him of my meaning: that he has long had it. He kissed my hand, Lizzy, and the rest I dare not put in a letter for my cheeks are quite pink as it is!

He has promised to go to father tomorrow, but I must end this letter soon for you to have any hope of receiving this letter while still in Kent! I have read your letter several times over and I am as astonished as you sound! I wonder at what could have brought about such a change in the space of one day - although I have no wonder at all at him admiring you, for your beauty and your cleverness have I think always intrigued him, excepting that first night. I have long wondered if we misheard him or if he misunderstood who Charles meant. (What rapture to write his name on such intimate terms! What joy!)

Elizabeth could not help but shake her head fondly at this evidence of Jane's enduring nature, no matter what she had said before to Mr Bingley. Whatever her feelings for Mr Darcy now, she knew for a fact she had not misheard - he had met her eyes and spoken clearly. Perhaps one day she would be able to call him to account for it.

Mr Darcy was very agreeable and talked on friendly terms with our aunt yesterday, and she told me that as soon as he heard you would be traveling with them through his home county this summer "his eyes shone with excitement and he sat forward in his chair" then he invited you all to stay at Pemberley to break your journey. She agrees with Charlotte that he must have strong feelings for you, to invite a tradesman to stay in his home at first acquaintance - or less, for he has not ever set eyes on our uncle! And as he has the good sense to admire my sister, and has been the means of reuniting me with Charles, I am quite in charity with the gentleman.

I long to see you Lizzy, and hear your feelings, as well as share my joy more intimately. Hurry home to me! Charles will be asking Papa if we can stay in town a week longer in order to begin my trousseau, but I must tell you that he let slip it was originally Mr Darcy's idea - and if Papa says no, Mr Darcy is prepared to join him at Netherfield again.

Your most devoted sister,

JB

Elizabeth's feelings could not be contained by staying in the garden, and she set out for a longer ramble, the better to read the letter over multiple times and turn things over in her mind. She was excessively pleased by almost all she had read, although some news was more surprising than others. That Mr Bingley should still care for her sister astonished her not at all - that things should be settled within two days raised only the slightest of eyebrows. Though what Jane had written about Mr Darcy took up the smallest portion of the letter, it took the largest portion of Elizabeth's thoughts.

That he had been agreeable was no longer surprising to her, as while she was not yet expecting such behaviour from him as a matter of course, she had experienced it firsthand and heard such good accounts from the tenants. That he had invited his aunt on first acquaintance to visit Pemberley was almost shocking - it was such an abstract concept that she could not even envision it coming to pass. That he should ascribe knowledge of Miss Bingley's letter to her having spoken of it, she could not possibly account for. But that he should angle for more time with her - the idea caused such giddiness to surge through her that she was grateful for the solitude of the woods. It wasn't until she found herself in the glade that she realized she had been heading straight towards the stream from the beginning.

As Elizabeth stood on the little footbridge gazing down into the rippling water, she admitted to herself for the first time that she had developed a tendre for Mr Darcy. She had not wanted to acknowledge it before - his behavior was so different and so fleeting, only two days, that sometimes she wondered in the stark light of day if anything would come of it. Perhaps he would not call on her after all or it would only be once before she went home, never to see him again. She had not wanted to open her heart only for the door of opportunity to slam shut.

The first time she had laid eyes on him, she had felt a shiver go through her at his handsome appearance. She could now admit to herself that she had instantly hoped to dance with him, and his slight of her person had been so acutely disappointing that she had used humor as not just a shield, but a weapon. She wanted his judgment to be faulty, for him to be ridiculous, so she could dismiss his opinion as useless. Elizabeth feared, above all, the same rejection happening again. If she developed genuine feelings for him, if she began to think highly of his opinion only for him to turn from her - it seemed so much safer to hold herself apart and wait to see what happened. Jane's letter was the first offering of hope she had, that Mr Darcy might be as steadfast and intent as she dreamed when she had the privacy of her dark bedchamber. It was then that the memories of his arms around her and his shuddering breaths in her ear enveloped her, spreading heat through her body as well as a powerful longing to experience it again.

-o-

By Friday night, she was longing to be in London. Maria was thrilled with how often they had been invited to Rosings, and the last week Elizabeth had been in a much better humor to endure the engagements. All her feelings for Miss de Bourgh had shifted to pity, and while Elizabeth had attempted to get to know her better, she was unsuccessful - largely due to Lady Catherine dominating all conversation.

It wasn't until she was packing that she realized she was short a handkerchief. She was about to ask Charlotte if she had seen it, wondering when she had last used it, when she stopped short in the hall at the memory.

She had never reclaimed it after offering it to Mr Darcy, and he had not returned it before leaving for town.

Elizabeth went to sleep with a strange quiver inside. It was entirely possible, probable even, that a rich man like Mr Darcy did not pay attention to such small things as handkerchiefs. Likely he had discarded it as he would any other with his valet, and it was lying unclaimed at Rosings. Or, perhaps he had been presented with it by a puzzled servant, and would be returning it to her when they saw each other in town in the few coming days. She wondered how soon she would be able to see him.

How strange, that she would be so eager to see the man she had once wished to avoid! He was the last man in the world whose addresses she would have expected to hope for, but everything seemed so changed from that morning in the woods.

Chapter Text

Anticipation crawled faster and faster under her skin the closer the carriage drew to Cheapside. It had taken more effort than usual to engage in polite conversation with Maria, who had been inclined to rehash all of their time spent at Rosings, but Elizabeth could tell that the younger girl was also looking forward to the end of their trip, spending the remaining time at the window and remarking only on sights of interest.

It was with a mixture of relief and excitement that Elizabeth disembarked at the Gardiner residence. Her sister was waiting in the entranceway and welcomed her with a fierce hug.

"Lizzy!"

"Oh, Jane!"

With some surprise, she heard Maria exclaim as well. "Papa!" She barrelled past the Bennet sisters and threw her arms around the neck of Sir William.

Elizabeth watched the enthusiastic reunion between father and daughter with an odd feeling that was too close to jealousy for comfort, so she pushed it down and went willingly as Jane shepherded them all into the parlor.

"Are you surprised, my pet?" Sir William was asking.

"Ever so surprised!" Maria agreed. "I did not think to see you here!"

"Due to our Miss Bennet's excellent news, they will be staying in town an extra week - but we missed you too much to do without you so long!"

Elizabeth heard this news with pleasure, glancing at Jane, who confirmed it with a small nod and smile.

Maria strove valiantly to keep the disappointment from her voice. She didn't quite succeed, but Elizabeth could not help but compare her admirable attempt with the embarrassing whining her own younger sisters surely would have engaged in. "Oh - I had looked forward to a few days in London… but I do miss everyone at home," she assured her father.

"And what kind of father would I be, to deprive my daughter of a few days' amusement? I am sure the Miss Bennets will be busy, but we will be staying with my cousins until Tuesday." Sir William had a gleam in his eye, sure of Maria's pleasure.

"Oh, Papa!" She threw her arms around him again.

Mrs Gardiner entered then with tea, and while Elizabeth embraced her happily she was mad to get Jane alone. She did her best to be sociable as they chatted for a while and spoke of the journey.

Surprisingly, Sir William - normally the type to extend conversation two or three times after saying his farewells - did not stay long before bundling Maria away. He did say something puzzling on his way out though: "Until we meet again, Miss Eliza - it will be difficult to adjust to calling you Miss Bennet! Although I am quite certain you will not hold that title for very long…" and he gave her what he surely thought of as a sly wink.

A little alarmed, Elizabeth looked again at Jane, who gave a tiny perplexed shake of her head - she had not mentioned anything.

After seeing the Lucases to the door, Mrs Gardiner dismissed the two girls with fondness. "I can see you two are bursting to speak with each other - but Lizzy, when you have a moment, the children are looking forward to greeting you as well."

Without hesitation, Jane let Elizabeth pull her into the garden, where they embraced again.

"Oh, Lizzy, how I have missed you! I feel there is so much to say I am not certain of where to begin."

"Then start with Mr Bingley! He received our father's blessing, I presume? Someone must have told the whole of Meryton your news, and who better than Mama?"

"Dear Mama. I wrote her a note to tell her myself - how could I reserve the news that would bring happiness to so many? Charles," and here she blushed, but only a very little as her face infused was with happiness, "went to Longbourn on Wednesday and also stopped to give orders to reopen Netherfield, but hurried back for the dinner on Thursday."

"Celebrating already? I cannot blame you, dearest Jane!"

"But I forgot you would not know! It was only with Mr and Miss Darcy, who I like very much."

"Mr - and Miss Darcy!" Elizabeth cried. "Came here? For dinner?" Why should that set her heart pounding?

"Oh yes. And we are invited to Darcy house for dinner tomorrow."

Tomorrow! If possible, her heart rate picked up even more. She had wondered how soon she might see Mr Darcy again, but had thought Monday would be the earliest she could reasonably hope for. And they would be at Darcy house the very next evening! She attempted to keep her voice flippant or at least nonchalant but feared it came out rather strangled when she asked, "And which Mr Darcy made an appearance, may I ask?"

Jane had a very knowing glint in her eye when she answered. "A very kind one. Still quiet, to be sure, but very polite. He takes great care of his sister I think, who is nothing like Mr Wickham described - only exceedingly shy. She is very young."

"I am quite cross with Mr Wickham!" Elizabeth scowled, tempted for a moment to confide the whole - but something in the memory of Mr Darcy weeping on her shoulder stopped her tongue. If they were staying in London for an extra week, there would be time before Jane could be told an edited version before facing him again. Instead, she grew curious. "Will I like Miss Darcy, do you think?"

Jane smiled. "I do not know who could not. I am grateful she is so young and Charles put my fears to rest, or I would have a very difficult time with my jealousy! She is very sweet and we had a lovely time discussing flowers. She has a book on their meanings."

Normally Elizabeth would mentally temper Jane's rosy description of a person, but she had a powerful desire to like Miss Darcy and hoped she would be as kind as she had been described. "And just how did Charles put your fears to rest, my dear Jane?"

Her sister blushed at the tease, then they both jumped slightly as the man himself hailed them from the entrance of the garden.

He bowed to Elizabeth with a wide smile, then took Jane's hand and lifted it to his mouth for a tender kiss while murmuring her name. "I hope I am not intruding?"

"Not at all," Elizabeth assured him. "And I must congratulate you, Mr Bingley, on securing the kindest and most beautiful lady in the country. I hope you will make her equally happy."

"I intend to!" His tone was no less earnest for its buoyancy. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am to meet with you again, you know. Darcy has been fairly buzzing about tomorrow night - it sounds as if we will be a very merry party. I understand you met the Colonel while in Kent as well? He will also be in attendance, to round out the numbers you see."

Elizabeth confirmed this, trying to picture Mr Darcy…buzzing. There was no polite way to ask what Mr Darcy had told his friend - and surely, such a private person may not have confided anything anyway. Assuming there was something to confide. She pulled her thoughts back to the present as Mr Bingley answered something Jane had quietly asked, saying that he was waiting for their uncle to arrive but would happily leave to let them reunite in peace - but Elizabeth broke in. She assured them both that she had stretched her legs enough for the moment and intended to go greet her cousins, allowing the lovers a moment together.

She spent a very agreeable time playing in the nursery, being dragged back and forth to see everyone's recent art or current favorite toys. It wasn't until they were being urged to wash up for their dinner that she realized how fatigued she was and began to make her way to her room to lie down for a while. In the hall, a masculine voice rose up faintly and for a moment she imagined it belonged to Mr Darcy. She froze, telling herself to be reasonable - no one would expect him to call today, but a tentative hope won out. She turned quick steps to the drawing room.

Elizabeth opened the door and immediately, a man who had been slightly bent over speaking to Jane straitened fully and turned. She locked eyes with Mr Darcy.

He had come. Was he as eager to meet as she, then? She spoke without thinking to drown out the pounding of her heart. "Mr Darcy! I thought I heard your voice. I didn't think to see you until tomorrow."

She didn't bother hiding a wide smile as he crossed the room toward her. He was wearing his strange half smile that she had come to recognize as him attempting to keep it contained. It made his dimples appear prominently, and her heart pounded faster.

When he reached her, he bowed over her hand without breaking eye contact and spoke in a low voice that made her quiver. "Miss Elizabeth…I am very happy to see you arrived safely."

"I couldn't dare do otherwise, sir. I believe someone ordered me to travel safely last week." His smile widened and Elizabeth rejoiced in her success.

"Excellent. We all know how much I like having my own way."

Elizabeth laughed in delight. She had always - well, enjoyed was not the right word, but perhaps relished - her exchanges with the man before her; his wit was quick and he had always listened to her in earnest although she had felt he was judging her for it. And perhaps he had been, but what was it he had said at Rosings? No one could find you wanting. She felt a thrill of anticipation at more conversations with him, where their wit was turned to a common subject instead of toward each other. Then she realized Mr Darcy had not visited alone.

"May I introduce my sister to you?"

She was suddenly nervous. "I would be honored."

Mr Darcy beckoned her over and performed the introductions.

Miss Darcy turned out to be exactly as described. "I am so pleased to finally meet you," she said in a sweet, quiet voice. It seemed hard for her to meet someone's eyes, but she tried - her gaze just continually dropped away. "I have heard so much about you."

Elizabeth was struck with a sudden, burning desire to know everything Mr Darcy had said. How would he describe her? Did Miss Darcy know he had asked to call on her? "All good things, I hope," she managed.

"Oh yes!" the girl eagerly assured her.

"I have heard much praise about you as well. I must confess I am quite intimidated!"

Miss Darcy glanced uncertainly at her brother and Elizabeth swallowed in chagrin, resolving to rein in her teases - until Mr Darcy sent his sister such a reassuring smile that Elizabeth's heart melted a little. She cast about for further conversation. "I heard you came to dinner earlier this week."

"Your family has been very kind," Miss Darcy smiled. "We will be able to return the favor tomorrow. I've even written out an invitation. It's my first time being a hostess, you see."

Her heart went out to the nervous young lady. "I am sure it will all be lovely, Miss Darcy! I look forward to it very much."

Miss Darcy smiled. "And I look forward to getting to know you. But…" her eyes darted to her brother, than to Mrs Gardiner. "Would it be too rude - do you mind if I speak with Mrs Gardiner for a while? I would like to ask her opinion on a few things. My companion has been helping me plan, but dinner on Thursday was so lovely, and your aunt has offered her help."

"I would not mind in the least!" Elizabeth reassured her. "My aunt is a wonderful hostess and an invaluable asset to planning an event." She sent off the young girl and with a sweep of her arm, invited Mr Darcy to the chairs by the fireplace.

This was it, her chance - it was as private as they were likely to get for some days. She pitched her voice low so Jane wouldn't hear. "I must admit I hoped for just such an opportunity to speak with you, Mr Darcy. I must thank you for the kindness you have shown my sister. You have brought her so much joy! Thank you for bringing Mr Bingley around to visit."

His brow lowered and he looked down, jaw clenched. This time, his apparent disapprobation stabbed through her in bitter disappointment. Before she could rethink it, she lashed out. "You don't approve?"

He looked up in surprise. "It is not for me to approve or disapprove," he began somewhat slowly, "but I am very glad for the match. All I have ever wanted is my friend's happiness."

Her irritation drained out of her, leaving shame for once again speaking before she thought, but this would not do. What could he mean by his strange expressions whenever she spoke of her sister and his friend? "You had a very interesting expression just now - is that how you appear when you are glad?"

Mr Darcy shifted uncomfortably - nearly squirmed - in his seat for a moment. "Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence," he announced abruptly. "I must confess something to you I would rather not. You see…last fall, I -"

She completed his thought. "You advised Mr Bingley away from my sister?"

"Yes."

A strange relief filled her - it was guilt he was feeling then, over giving advice that turned out to be incorrect. She could put to rest her fear that he disapproved of alliances with her family. "I admit I had my suspicions. A few weeks ago I would have been furious to discover your interference." That was an understatement. If she had learned that before he asked to call, how different her answer would have been! "But at a mere hint you might have been mistaken, you went out of your way to correct it! How could I be upset now? I am gratified you would listen to a few words from me. No, Mr Darcy, I think you have quite atoned for that."

He relaxed a little, tension escaping him a sigh. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear it." He didn't smile with his mouth, but it was apparent in his eyes. They glowed with warmth… she glanced away to stop herself from staring as he continued: "Did you enjoy your last week in Kent? Did the rain curtail your walks?"

She peeked up at him, thoughts racing. People didn't usually remark on her walks - if she became ill-tempered, then someone might realize she'd been cooped up for a while, but they didn't tend to ask about them otherwise other than when she was walking in the door. "There were only a few days I was confined indoors, but I found the rest of them…tolerable." Besides, she had spent most of the week he was asking about seeing to his detailed list. She wondered what he might have to say about it - if he would boast of his generosity to impress her. "We were kept very busy, actually, seeing to the needs of the tenants. Mr Wood provided us with a rather comprehensive list of what would be useful. Everyone was most grateful."

"Mr Wood has been the steward for many years." His voice was matter of fact. "I am sure he was grateful for the extra assistance - and if he did not express that, please let me do so now. Not every young lady would spend her time away from home helping in such a way, yet I am unsurprised to hear you did so."

Elizabeth looked away to hide her feelings. That was it? No acknowledgment of his involvement, let alone bragging that he had been the instigation of so many receiving the assistance they needed. He gave her accolades for helping, and asked for none in return. Had she known anything of this man before last week?

He tilted his head to catch her eye. "Did Miss Lucas travel with you?"

She was a little surprised he would remember, or ask. Warmth flooded her as she remembered how kindly he had sat and listened to Maria chatter on. "She did, although Sir William was waiting to collect her. They will be staying with a cousin of his for the weekend." She thought to tease him. "He will be sorry to have missed you!"

"Perhaps I will be able to renew the acquaintance soon."

He could not seriously anticipate Sir William's company - nothing but a lifetime of affection could prompt even Elizabeth to endure an extended conversation with the man - but Mr Darcy was earnest in a way she had not expected. She thought for a moment that it might be a compliment, that he would be willing to embrace those connections for her, and tucked it away to examine later. Is that what had brought about this change in his manner? As flattering as that might be, it did not ring true. One did not wake up ready to change everything about oneself due to someone else.

"Yes?" He was sitting forward slightly, looking at her expectantly.

Elizabeth looked at him, embarrassed to be caught in her thoughts. "Am I so obvious?"

"Perhaps I just know your face well."

The warmth in his voice made her blush. "It is only - you seem very…different," she fumbled, "and I cannot help but wonder what brought it about."

He looked at her a long moment and she watched as his gaze slid inward, before glancing to see if anyone else was listening. "I think we all experience events that change us," he said carefully. "Some are simply more drastic or obvious than others."

Mr Bingley bounded into the room just ahead of Mr Gardiner. "Darcy!" the former exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. "I did not expect to see you here today. What excellent luck for me! If you are leaving soon, that is?" He began moving toward Jane the way he always did, like he was drawn by a magnet. "I got distracted talking with Gardiner here, you see, and I quite forgot I promised to attend my sisters for dinner. Begging a seat in your carriage would save me from tracking down a hackney, and it would not do to be late - it has been too difficult to tear myself away to deliver our happy news thus far!" He kissed Jane's hand as punctuation.

Mr Darcy looked at her, the disappointment she felt mirrored in his eyes before he schooled his face and turned to his friend. "Of course, Bingley."

She sent him a smile so he would know how much she had also wished to continue their conversation. Another time, then. She and Jane walked the party to the door - or rather, Mr Bingley tugged Jane eagerly to the entranceway and Elizabeth walked Mr and Miss Darcy after them. The footman stepped forward and Mr Darcy took his things before stepping next to Elizabeth, gloves gripped in one hand while he took hers in the other, his fingers stroking over her palm as he bowed.

"I look forward to being able to welcome you to Darcy house on the morrow," he told her in that new, low voice that she felt all the way through her. He gave a squeeze to her fingers before releasing her.

"I am all anticipation," she said, more breathlessly than she would have liked. Miss Darcy approached them, outerwear in place, and Elizabeth included her as well, hoping her face was not too pink. "And it was a pleasure, Miss Darcy, meeting you. I look forward to deepening our acquaintance."

"Oh, yes!" the young lady said warmly. "I am very excited for tomorrow, and I'm sure we will see much of each other!"

Mr Darcy had donned his gloves by this time, and once he had put on his hat, gave her one more warm look. "Until tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth," he promised, then left with Miss Darcy on his arm.

-o-

All her dreaminess ended the moment she and Jane stepped back into the parlor and faced her aunt and uncle's curiosity.

"Come sit, Lizzy," Mrs Gardiner patted the cushion next to her. "Tell us of your time in Kent."

She blushed, thoughts instantly going to being in Mr Darcy's arms. It was one thing to consider telling Jane - a highly abridged version anyway - but there was no way she would be sharing Mr Darcy's vulnerability with the world at large. It would be a betrayal.

She did her best to keep it general, allowing that she and Mr Darcy had been in company frequently and walked often in the park. Her aunt Gardiner did ask some pointed questions but seemed to be trying not to pry - she was very interested in Elizabeth's feelings toward the man but did not delve beyond Elizabeth confirming she no longer held animosity toward Mr Darcy and was willing to know him better.

Dinner was difficult, for she still longed to escape with Jane and talk through everything that had happened recently. Her aunt sallied a few more teases than Elizabeth was comfortable with, but pulled back after a pointed look from her husband. After dinner and a single song at the piano, Mr Gardiner told Elizabeth he was very happy to host her but waved the girls away to bed, earning him an extra appreciative kiss on the cheek.

As Jane was getting her hair taken down, Elizabeth exclaimed, "Oh Jane! I have not yet had a moment to give you your gift." She went to her trunk and pulled out a pair of kid gloves she had embellished with tiny french knot flowers. "Wait! I have something in my workbasket as well - let me go retrieve it now."

Just before entering the parlor, Elizabeth paused. There were voices coming from inside - her aunt and uncle, and they sounded tense. She knew she should not eavesdrop, but she could not help herself, especially after hearing her own name.

Her uncle was speaking. "I'm not disagreeing with you, my dear, all I am saying is that we should wait to consider her married off before we've even seen them together. Yes, Lizzy seems to have changed her opinion of him, but is that better? I've already hosted one broken-hearted niece this year because a rich man liked her but not well enough, and I'd like to limit those numbers."

"But I have seen them together, Edward!" Her aunt replied. "The man could hardly keep his eyes in his head."

"Even so, we should be encouraging her to temper her hopes, not inflame them. At least until this dinner party and we can see how things stand."

There was a moment before her aunt capitulated. "I agree that we should wait and see. But you must agree there is at least some marked interest, for there was no need to bring a written invitation the day before when everything was already agreed to. As you well know, since you did something similar when we were courting."

"As I recall, you were the one to bring a letter to me."

"Only after it mysteriously found its way out of your pocket and into our settee in such a way that it wasn't found until after you left!" The amusement in her voice was clear.

There was a brief silence and Elizabeth wondered if it would be an awkward time to enter the room, but she heard her uncle say, "Did I ever tell you that letter was blank?"

"It was not!"

"Very well, it was not, but it was full of such inanities it might as well have been. I could just as easily have written 'Clarkson, I pray you never receive this letter, for all my hopes rest on it being returned to me instead of posted.' I never did send it to him."

"Yes, I know. Your breast pocket crinkled the first time we kissed."

"Well, it was the only favor you'd given me."

"You are a sentimental fool," she said fondly, and after that there was no more speaking.

Elizabeth wisely decided not to enter the room after all.

She reentered the room she was sharing with Jane and giggled, "I will have to give it to you tomorrow - it is merely a new handkerchief to match the gloves! Luckily your initials will not change."

Jane looked at her curiously. "It is not like you to misplace things, Lizzy."

Elizabeth blushed. "Our aunt and uncle were still in the room and seemed…occupied. I did not wish to interrupt." She turned so the maid could begin unbuttoning her dress.

Jane blushed as well. "I have always hoped to have a marriage like our aunt and uncle's. It has been over ten years and they still take joy in each other's company."

"I am sure you will have it, Jane! Mr Bingley adores you even more obviously than he did last autumn. I thought the glow in his face might outshine the sun this afternoon."

It was her sister's turn to look radiant. "We have both been so happy. After so long thinking all was lost, we have both had difficulty believing our good fortune. And we owe it all to you and Mr Darcy! How could such a conversation have come about?"

"But that is just it, Jane!" Elizabeth dismissed the maid that had just finished unlacing her stays and sat to take out her hair pins. Jane came over to help as she continued. "It is true that when he arrived in Kent I informed Mr Darcy you were in London and asked if you had happened upon each other. And on…on the morning I wrote to you about, I hinted you had been in poor spirits since the Netherfield party went away - but that is all, I swear it! I had meant to ask about Mr Bingley, I admit, but when I handed Mr Darcy your letter he asked if his friend would be welcome before I could even draw breath! It was as if he already knew what I was thinking. But your letter mentioned that he spoke of Miss Bingley's, and I never spoke of that to him, Jane! I cannot account for him saying so at all."

She could see Jane's confusion in the mirror. "I wonder that he would say so then. How could he have knowledge of it?"

"I cannot think of a respectable way that he would. If he had a hand in writing it, I cannot imagine Miss Bingley would have dared use his sister's name in such a way. Perhaps he simply used my name in an effort to maintain propriety? But still, I cannot imagine him dissembling in such a way. If anything, I would assume he would stay silent." She considered his tense confession that afternoon as Jane finished plaiting her hair. "Although he does seem to be compulsively honest, saying things he might better keep to himself."

"To you, perhaps. He does not seem driven to explain himself to anyone else. Which bodes well for the future it - oh, but Lizzy, are you sure you like him?" Jane grasped her hand anxiously, facing her directly instead of looking at her in the mirror. "Do anything rather than marry without affection! He is very wealthy, but Charles has already assured me we can provide for the family should the worst come to pass - and you held such a pointed dislike of him before. You change your mind about people so rarely."

Elizabeth squeezed her sister's hand in assurance. "I must confess I do like him, Jane - at least what I have seen lately. I still do not know what happened. He met me on one of my walks and I told him it was my favorite - thinking to warn him away, although I must wonder now if he thought I was inviting him to join me. And he seemed the same as ever when he met me each day, hardly bothering himself to speak except for a few questions. And then one day I went a different direction and he still showed up, but he was so different!" They moved together to the bed.

"Different how?"

"He was free with his smiles, for one thing. Still quiet at first but his…haughtiness was gone. And he asked my advice with his sister, and…" she trailed off, unsure whether she should continue.

Jane was looking at her patiently as they settled in, not saying anything. She could wield silence like a weapon, demanding you to fill it without even changing expression, and Elizabeth capitulated.

"He wept, Jane," she whispered, then added in a stern voice, "Do not share this with anyone, not even Charles. If that is too much to ask, let me know now and I will stop."

She considered this a moment. "I cannot imagine he would ask, but I will be silent on the subject."

Elizabeth fell back on the bed in relief. "He has so many responsibilities, and feels deeply about them all! So many things weighing on him. Did you know he left a list of the needs of every tenant on his aunt's estate? And when I visited them with Charlotte, they all spoke warmly of Mr Darcy and knew him personally. It is not even his own estate! He cannot be more than thirty, but he has been head of his family for at least five years. He has had little time for levity since, I think - but I can tell he has a sense of humor buried in there." She giggled at the memory of the last tea in Rosings.

"He wept…and now you like him?"

She sat up at the dubious tone. "It is more than that. He told me - oh, I cannot speak of the details even to you, Jane, but Mr Wickham has used his family most abominably. Mr Darcy could not have been speaking slander, for he did not even name the man who had hurt them, but some of the things he mentioned lined up with what Mr Wickham told me and I asked if that was who he meant. He was so vulnerable, I could no longer hate him - but also… he listened to me. He always has; even when I thought he was judging me critically for what he said I have never felt as if he was dismissing it. And you will never guess in a thousand years what happened later that day!"

She told her astonished sister, though many bouts of giggles, what had happened at tea, embellishing it only by recreating the various expressions of everyone in the room. They laughed until tears came to her eyes. "I thought we would have to scrape Mr Collins' jaw off the floor!"

"I cannot even imagine Mr Darcy doing such a thing! You are not teasing me, are you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I would not believe it if I had not seen it with my own eyes, but it made me realize I have been frightfully prejudiced against him when I really should be seeing his actions as he makes them - instead of interpreting everything through the lens of him slighting me that first night. Still, though, I wonder at what could have brought about such a change in his behavior from one day to the next." She turned over onto her stomach, propping her head on her hands. "But what about you and Mr Bingley, Jane? Don't think you will escape telling me what you were unable to entrust to a letter!"

Jane flushed beet red, but a dreamy smile overtook her. "Oh Lizzy, I do not even know how to describe it!"

"Tell me of the day he returned," she prompted. "You went into the garden, told each other of your winters, and then…?"

"He said he would do anything necessary to win my heart and I told him it was too late - oh, poor Charles, I thought he might cry! And I realized what I had said and explained that he already had. Then he took my hand and said that if I could ever entrust my heart to him, he would spend the rest of his life taking care of it and seeing to my happiness."

"Jane! That is so very romantic. What did you say?"

"I must admit I was too overcome to speak. I just put a hand to my cheek, and then he kissed the hand he was holding and said: 'if you cannot trust me, I will still spend the rest of my life loving you and doing anything you allow me to ensure your happiness. My heart is yours to do with as you will'." She sighed rapturously. "And all I could do was whisper his name - his first name! And his eyes lit up and he turned over my hand and…" she trailed off with another blush.

"You cannot stop now!" Elizabeth insisted with a grin.

"I do not remember his exact words after that. He began kissing my palm and each of my fingers and begging me to marry him. I think I had to say yes several times before he believed me!"

Elizabeth's first thought was to tease Jane for blushing over kisses to her hand, but when her imagination suddenly put Mr Darcy kneeling before her and doing the same she found herself blushing as well. "I am so happy for you, dearest! And the next day he went to Longbourn?"

Jane smiled radiantly, hugging the pillow close. "Charles said Papa barely sported with him, at least no more expected. He admitted to me before he left that Mr Darcy was the one who suggested we stay in town an extra week, but either way asked to stay at Netherfield." She gave a pointed look. "On Monday, before they even visited. He was prepared to come to Netherfield alone if I turned Charles away."

Elizabeth could not meet Jane's eye. "I am happy you did not, since I can see how happy you are. And then they came to dinner on Thursday?" She was still incredibly curious, trying to imagine how that might have played out.

"Oh yes. Miss Darcy is a lovely young lady - I think she would get along very well with Kitty. And our aunt and uncle both said they like Mr Darcy very much. They have been invited to stay at Pemberley with you on the way to the peaks."

Elizabeth felt something loosen inside her and turned back over to stare at the ceiling.

"What is it, Lizzy?"

She sorted through her feelings. "I have been almost afraid, I think - that he would disdain the connection. But for him to not only call here, but host them at Pemberley - he cannot be so proud as I once thought him, and I am so very… relieved."

Jane was quiet a moment. "You really do like him then, in the way that you ought?"

Elizabeth smirked. "And what way ought I to like him? The way you like Charles? Does he set your heart aflutter and cause you to dream of things you ought not?"

Jane threw the pillow at her and they laughed. When they quieted, both laying and looking at the ceiling, Jane confided, "Yes. Yesterday…Charles kissed me," she whispered. "And it was so much more than I ever dreamed. I cannot stop wanting to do it again."

Elizabeth sat up. "What? Where?"

"On the lips."

This time she hit Jane with the pillow. "But of course! I meant where did he do it? In the garden?"

"No, we went walking in the park and we found ourselves quite alone in the trees, and he drew me close and said: 'I have not stopped dreaming of this since the night we met.' And then - then he kissed me. And he kept whispering all sorts of beautiful things and kissing me and oh! I never wanted it to end…except we heard some people riding nearby and broke away. I know I maybe should not have allowed it, but we are engaged now," she said defensively, looking at Elizabeth's raised eyebrows. "And it is not as if anyone saw us."

"I am not judging you, dearest! I merely did not expect it of you, that is all."

"Love changes us, Lizzy. Perhaps that is what happened to Mr Darcy."

"…perhaps," Elizabeth whispered, and found herself hoping. She could not articulate what she hoped for, only that there was a powerful yearning in her breast.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth blamed Jane. It must have been her confessions the prior evening that caused Elizabeth to wake up from dreams about walking with Mr Darcy through the trees until he took her in his arms and kissed her. If Jane had not told her this, surely she would not be having such difficulty repeatedly tearing her thoughts away from the dream to focus on the sermon. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She reprimanded her thoughts for being inappropriate in church. She reminded herself she had not spent enough time with this new Mr Darcy to be enthralled with him so quickly.

Her heart listened not at all.

The afternoon was interminable. Her aunt did not tease her, but she still could not settle. She was in need of starting a new embroidery project - she meant to replace the handkerchief she had given to Mr Darcy - but she could not find the motivation to begin any of her ideas. She did not always have the patience to repeat designs, and even though she had loved the daffodils the mere thought of sketching them out kept turning her thoughts to Mr Darcy, and wondering what had happened to her handkerchief. When she found herself drifting around the parlor yet again, she excused herself up to her room even though it was a full hour before she would usually think of dressing for a dinner out.

She lamented that Mr Darcy had already seen all the dresses she had packed for her trip, dithering over her options until Jane came to her rescue.

"This one, I think," her sister said firmly. She had brought up a maid to see to her hair as well, knowing Elizabeth would want to look her best.

The last time Elizabeth had spent so long on her appearance was preparing for the Netherfield ball. She felt a little silly doing so for a mere dinner, and said so, but Jane shook her head.

"This is no mere dinner, and you know it. I do not imagine Mr Darcy asks his young sister to be his hostess lightly."

A nervous flutter rose in Elizabeth's stomach, and she smoothed the front of her dress, grateful she had taken extra care with her hair. Looking so well gave her confidence.

Jane came up behind her and met her eyes in the mirror. "I have never seen you so nervous, Lizzy. Are you not excited?"

"Oh Jane," she whispered. "What if I open my heart to him and he does not choose me?"

"I saw the way he looked at you yesterday. Personally I thought if he looked any harder you would have burst into flames. But have courage, my dearest - you may be worrying over nothing - we cannot know yet. You do not need to decide now. Let us get to Darcy House and see how he behaves."

Elizabeth's mouth went dry. She had known Mr Darcy was wealthy, but to be confronted with such a large townhouse in the fashionable side of London was another matter. Even her uncle raised his eyebrows, though he attempted to keep his expression casual. Her heart was pounding as they waited to be admitted, and doubled in speed when she entered and spied Mr Darcy himself coming forward to greet them.

He bowed over her hand. "I am so pleased to welcome you to Darcy House, Miss Elizabeth." He spoke in a quiet tone that felt intimate, even though the others could surely hear. "May I?" He gestured for her wrap, and she turned in acquiescence.

She could feel his hands skimming down her arms and blushed at the warmth it infused into her. She took his proffered arm with gratitude, hoping not to betray how unsteady she felt. "You have a beautiful home."

"I am glad you find it so." He smiled at her and led her into a beautifully appointed drawing room. It was designed to impress, but without being gaudy.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was there, a twinkle in his eye, but so was Miss Darcy, looking excessively conscious and clasping her hands together tightly. She greeted the Colonel warmly but wanted to set Miss Darcy at ease if she could.

"Miss Darcy," she curtsied. "I am so pleased to see you again so soon. You look lovely, that color is perfect for you!"

"Thank you," the girl told her with a shy smile. "I am happy you could come. I like how you have done your hair."

"It is not so elaborate as yours!" Elizabeth said cheerfully. "You are in fine looks this evening. It is a good thing there are no single young men here, or your brother would be hard pressed to spare attention to anything but keeping them away from you." When Miss Darcy blushed, Elizabeth caught herself. "Forgive me, Miss Darcy, for speaking so teasingly, but I am in earnest. This room is beautiful, did you have a hand in it?"

Miss Darcy relaxed slightly, distracted from her nerves by the chatter. "It is largely as it has been for several years, although I did have a hand in choosing the drapery when it needed to be replaced last year. And a few of the pillows to tie them into the room."

"It is done to great effect. I am quite jealous of your eye, I rely heavily on my sisters to advise me!"

Mr Darcy spoke from across the room. "Would anyone care for a short tour before dinner? I believe we have the time."

"Oh yes!" Miss Darcy exclaimed. "For I would love to show you the music room, Miss Elizabeth! My brother has said he has rarely heard anything that gave him greater pleasure than your playing, and besides, he purchased me a new lap harp for my birthday and I have not been able to show it off as often as I would like."

"Then how could I refuse?" Elizabeth smiled, then glanced at Mr Darcy. She was surprised to find him watching her carefully - but why should she be? He had always watched her thus. His face was as it had always been, but now that she understood he showed more emotion in his eyes than his mouth, it no longer seemed like such a glare. How silly she had been, in the fall!

As they walked through the house, Elizabeth fell more in love with it. The furniture was exquisite but not at the cost of comfort, and though the color schemes in many of the rooms weren't exactly what she would choose for herself, the style was. Her uncle stopped to rave over a few of the sculptures and paintings he recognized, and Mr Darcy seemed pleased by the compliments.

The music room was beautiful - someone had clearly paid attention to the acoustics and Elizabeth could not help pressing a few keys on the pianoforte to see how the sound rang in the air. On top was a little arrangement of daffodils, and she told Miss Darcy of her delight with them when she brought over the lap harp.

Miss Darcy had relaxed more than when they had arrived, but was still very quiet when she asked, "Would you like to play a duet some time?"

"I would be honored! I must confess it will have to be a simple one - I have heard much praise of your ability and may not measure up. Perhaps we could look through your music sheets after dinner when the men abandon us?"

"I would like that." The girl's smile warmed Elizabeth's heart.

The last room they visited was the library, and Elizabeth was happy to see that it was a well-lived in room. The furniture by the fire looked comfortable enough to curl up in, and the room did not have the stale feeling of one usually unoccupied. Again, on the low table by the fire, was an arrangement of daffodils. For that matter, hadn't there been some in the arrangement in the drawing room?

"Are daffodils your favorite flower, Miss Darcy? They seem to be in many of the rooms."

"Oh no," she answered with a sly smile. "I mean, I do enjoy them very much, but I did the arrangement with my brother in mind. He has suddenly become excessively fond of them, so I have been putting them around the house to make him smile."

Her eyes snapped directly to Mr Darcy. Was it possible? She had misunderstood him so much before - was it ridiculous to think that his sudden fondness could be connected to her missing handkerchief? He did look self-conscious and for the first time that night, was not meeting her eyes. She forced herself to attend to Miss Darcy who was still speaking.

"Are daffodils your favorite?"

"I have never met a flower I didn't like, but I admit to a preference for the earliest spring flowers - daffodils, bluebells, crocuses and the like." She could feel Mr Darcy's eyes on her again, even though she kept her gaze on his sister. "Anything that heralds the returning sun feels like greeting a long absent friend."

A servant entered the room - the butler, she thought - and announced that dinner was ready. For half a moment she felt as if the butler included her in his bow, before realizing she was merely standing between the host and hostess. She chided herself, laughing at her fancies. She accepted Mr Darcy's offered arm and engaged him quietly as they walked, unable to help her curiosity.

"Are you able to explain your sudden liking for daffodils, sir?"

He gave her a half smile she hadn't seen before. "Quite easily."

She waited until it was clear nothing more was forthcoming. "And yet, you will not do so?"

"You did not ask me to do so. You asked if I were able to."

His smile became clear - he was toying with her! "Teasing man," she accused him playfully. "Now who is keeping whom on their toes?" She could not contain her delight at this turn of events, smiling even as he led her to her chair and held it himself, then settled next to her.

"I know you refuse to speak of books in a ballroom - what is your stance on discussing them in a dining room?"

Elizabeth could not remember ever enjoying a dinner more. Mr Darcy was astonishingly voluble, but not in an overbearing way; he included Mrs Gardiner in the conversation often, even Mr Gardiner next to her occasionally. The seating was a little unconventional, but no one in the party was inclined to care - everyone was sat next to their preferred partner, and the dinner flew by. The cook produced marvels and best of all, Elizabeth provoked Mr Darcy's rich laughter no less than four times. When the last course was cleared away, she was as flushed by her success as by the wine. Standing to follow Miss Darcy made her realize how tipsy she had become and she was almost grateful for a reprieve to pull herself together without the embarrassment of her aunt witnessing her falling into Mr Darcy's eyes longer than was proper. During dessert, it had been harder and harder to look away.

In the hall, she looped arms with Miss Darcy. "Your dinner party is perfection, Miss Darcy! That sauce served with the chicken had me in raptures. I could happily bathe in it." Then she realized how familiar she was being and dropped the girl's arm. "Forgive me," she blushed.

"Oh, there is nothing to forgive," Miss Darcy smiled shyly. "I am not yet used to other ladies, not like you with your close friends and sisters. I hope we shall be, though." She gasped and blushed, splotchy red cheeks in a pale face. "Close friends, I mean. Oh, not that I don't -" She broke off, her hands covering her cheeks before she took Elizabeth's arm again and continuing on in a rush. "The sauce is one of Fitzwilliam's favorites as well, I am pleased you enjoyed it!"

Elizabeth, also blushing, was perfectly willing to avoid the conversational pit they had just stumbled over. Fitzwilliam. She had forgotten how much his Christian name suited him. "Shall we look over your music sheets, do you think? Are you still brave enough to attempt a duet with me? You will have to be very nimble to hide my mistakes." It was unique, really, and suited him in a way a more ordinary name would not. Her mind kept turning it over. Fitzwilliam.

Jane and Mrs Gardiner waved them away to choose some music and began discussing their upcoming shopping trip tomorrow. They included Miss Darcy in the conversation though, soliciting her opinions on favorite shops. Elizabeth wondered what Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy's favorite shop was, then shook her head to clear it. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question at Jane and received a slight nod and smile to proceed. "Should you like to come along, Miss Darcy? A long day of shopping is much less tiring when among good company, and it can be rather fun to make fashion decisions that don't actually affect your pocketbook."

She was warmed by how much Miss Darcy brightened at the invitation, although her face fell slightly after a moment. "Mondays are when I am engaged with my piano master, I do not believe I would be able to join you. Perhaps another time?"

"I would enjoy that very much," she cheerfully assured the girl.

And it was true. There was something about Miss Darcy, a sweetness that made you want to hover over her and protect her from all of life's ills. It was no wonder Mr Darcy doted on her, his sense of duty aside.

At length, they chose a simple piece that Elizabeth thought wouldn't embarrass her too much, and performed it for the other two. Miss Darcy executed it flawlessly, but still blushed and waved off the compliments she received. She balked at playing something solo for the company, and Elizabeth did not want to press her, so they pulled out another duet and only got halfway through before Elizabeth had to throw up her hands, laughing.

"I am afraid this one is beyond me tonight, Miss Darcy! I will have to copy it out and practice the fingering so I can avoid disgracing you next time - assuming you don't give up on me altogether."

Miss Darcy hastened to reassure her that she had been practicing that one with her companion and would be happy to try it another time. Elizabeth engaged her in a conversation about her companion - a Mrs Annesley - and learned that she was given every Sunday off to spend with family in town, returning after dinner. Miss Darcy seemed to like her very well, which made Elizabeth glad.

It was during this conversation that Mr Bingley and the Colonel entered the room, speaking happily as they crossed to where Jane and Mrs Gardiner were sitting. Elizabeth realized she had expected Mr Darcy to be first through the door and wondered what might be delaying him and her uncle. Surely he had not requested a word with her guardian without even speaking to her? The presumption! But on the heels of that thought, came the idea that her uncle might have requested a word with him to ask his intentions, and immediately hoped that had had not been the case - how embarrassing! And then Elizabeth blushed anew at assuming that two men could only be discussing her when there was a wealth of topics they might enjoy conversing on, and attempted to refocus on Miss Darcy.

When the two missing men appeared - honestly, they may have only been a minute behind the others - Elizabeth relaxed to see an easy comradery between them. It was delightful, of course, that he should know she had some relations for whom there was no need to blush - but it was even more than that; she loved her father, but she respected her uncle in a way she despaired of feeling at home. That the two men she respected most may get along in their own right was a heady feeling, and it struck her forcefully how much she actually respected Mr Darcy. She tucked that revelation away to examine later, for the man himself was coming towards her.

"I say," Mr Bingley exclaimed. "I cannot recall having a more pleasant evening in all my life! The only thing more we could possibly want would be some dancing!"

Elizabeth felt Miss Darcy tense at her side."I have never played for dancing before," she admitted quietly.

She turned to help the young girl. "I would be happy to play! Then you could dance, Miss Darcy."

Mr Darcy reached them at the piano and leaned in protectively toward his sister. "Georgiana, you are the hostess tonight. If you do not wish for dancing, we will not have any."

Elizabeth's heart melted at this evidence of care, the way he shielded his sister from the room and spoke quietly so no one else could hear.

"Mrs Annesley says I should see to my guests' entertainment," Miss Darcy was saying, head still bowed and hands clasped in her lap.

"Even so, I can put Bingley off easily enough," Mr Darcy continued lightly. "The fairies themselves would be hard pressed to keep up with his love of dancing, he cannot expect us mere mortals to indulge him every time."

He glanced at Elizabeth, and she sent him a warm smile of approval at his handling of his sister. He had expressed difficulty, but she was not seeing much evidence of it tonight. She did her best to step in. "Your brother is a fine dancer, Miss Darcy, even when someone is trying to distract him. I have not seen you dance, but my sister and Mr Bingley don't look anywhere but each other, and my aunt and uncle will be too busy watching their own steps. I am not talented enough to look away from the piano, so the only person you need to worry about watching you is your cousin - and I'm sure your brother could glare him into silence."

Mr Darcy smiled at her sally, and she wondered at the giddiness bubbling in her. She had thought the wine had weakened its hold by now. "My glare is yours to command, Georgiana. Just point me in the right direction. But I would be honoured to dance with you, if that is what you wish."

Miss Darcy took a fortifying breath. "I would be happy to dance with you, Brother. But only if I can take a turn at the piano after, so Miss Elizabeth can dance too."

Mr Darcy smiled, then turned to the room. "Well, Bingley, let it not be said that the Darcys provide an evening that is anything less than perfect. My sister has consented to partner me in some dancing." He motioned for some footmen to clear a space, then gave a formal bow to his sister and held out his hand to escort her to the floor.

Elizabeth pulled out some music that she knew she could perform passably, and the Colonel offered to turn the pages for her. She agreed with a smile, and admonished him to look sharp. "For I cannot afford any distractions, if we are to hope for anything close to perfection tonight!"

He smiled. "My cousin is very exacting, and holds everyone - including himself - to standards that seem impossibly high. It is true it has led to some disappointments and I used to think he would never be satisfied, but for once I am happy to be proven wrong. It turns out that he just had a very clear idea of what he wanted and the patience not to settle for anything less."

This, accompanied by his meaningful look, did not help Elizabeth's concentration; luckily Colonel Fitzwilliam did not continue the conversation and she acquitted herself tolerably well at the piano. None of the dancers seemed to take note of her mistakes, at any rate, and when Mr Darcy escorted his sister back to the piano and fixed his eyes on her, she forgot about the Colonel entirely.

"Based on previous results, dare I ask if you will honor with me with a dance?"

She had to smile at that. "Have I refused you so many times?"

"More than I would wish."

She could not interpret his gaze, but when he held out his hand in invitation, took it without hesitation. They took their places on the floor and Elizabeth glanced around to see if anyone minded that they had not replaced their gloves. Her aunt was standing up with Colonel Fitzwilliam and her uncle was by the piano to assist Miss Darcy if she needed it, so she relaxed. She could still feel the warmth of his touch on her hand.

The music began, filling the room with a bright, smooth sound Elizabeth could never quite manage on the keys. Mr Darcy had that slight smile he had often wore when looking at her, the one she had not recognized as genuine because she had not paid attention to his eyes. They were warm now, practically glowing with admiration, and she found herself lost.

In the winter, she had thought of him as a stone, maybe even a stone wall: remote, cool to the touch, immovable. But she was coming to realize that walls could also mean home and safety. And she had forgotten that stones merely reflected their environment; when the world was cold so were they, but in summer they stored the heat of the sun until the warmth radiated outward, until you wanted to press your whole body against it in delight, until it could seemingly burn at a prolonged touch.

Here, in the drawing room of Darcy house, it was high summer. Heat was everywhere. His hands transferred it up her palms, his arms went around her back and warmed her there, it blazed in his eyes and somehow filled her very center. She was giddy, and words - her long companions - seemed trivial and superfluous. She just met Mr Darcy's eyes and let him see the love in her heart.

Then the song came to an end, and without the music swelling around them and swirling between them like a third dancer, Elizabeth felt exposed. Stripped bare. Mr Darcy was still staring at her, and she couldn't maintain the intensity of his eye contact. What was she doing? Exposing her heart? This was madness! Two weeks ago she had thought she hated this man, passionately - she could not truly love him so soon. It must be her vanity, the flattery of being wanted… Flattery? No, merely a dream. How embarrassing to presume so much, that his feelings would be so powerful. She should take a step back, shield herself from discovery.

She could not will herself to move away, and when the music began again, she rejoiced that he had not either.

They began moving down the line, such as it was with so few dancers, and he leaned in close to speak in that low voice that always made her short of breath. "I believe, Miss Elizabeth, that you prefer to have conversation with your partner?"

It was with some relief that words returned to her, and she reached for her defense of humour. "That will not do, Mr Darcy, to defer to our partners - for I happen to know you would prefer not to dance at all."

He smiled, a small private smile just for her. "Only when I am not well acquainted with my partner, and that is easily remedied."

"You consider us sufficiently acquainted, then?" She steeled herself for his agreement.

"Sufficiently acquainted for dancing? Of course. But for my liking?" The dance brought them together before they stepped away from each other without letting go of each other's hands. When they stepped together again, he pulled her in closer than was strictly proper. "Not at all."

Elizabeth could not help her grin. Relief it was not presumption, anticipation at what might come, and something close to pure joy made her almost tremble with emotion. She did not even try to blame it on the long-gone wine - she had to admit it was the effect of being near Mr Darcy.

When the music ended, Miss Darcy announced that tea was ready, and Elizabeth turned to the doorway to see a footman hastily pulling back from where he was peeking through. Mr Darcy escorted her to a settee where they could both sit, and Colonel Fitzwilliam did the same for Miss Darcy opposite them. What seemed like an army of maids descended with a tea tray and began pouring, and Elizabeth wondered if this was the usual course of things or if this was simply for a dinner party. Mr Darcy barely glanced at them, although Elizabeth assumed the discreet glances the maids kept darting toward them on the settee were seeking his approval. She was interested to note that Miss Darcy was giving the number of maids a mildly bewildered look, and decided it must not be normal to have so many then.

Colonel Fitzwilliam also noted the maids, his eyes sparkling as if he had just heard a very fine joke. Elizabeth could not deduce the object of his mirth, so she ignored it, making a point to praise Miss Darcy on both her playing and her dancing. Mr Bingley again raved about how much he was enjoying the evening, and the Colonel quipped that the compliment was all the more meaningful because "Bingley has set foot in more ballrooms than he has any other sort of place, including the schoolroom."

Mr Bingley laughed harder than anyone, but defended himself by saying he had visited a museum on his travels recently. The Gardiners pivoted gracefully to talking about the newest exhibits in town, and Elizabeth contributed as merrily as ever, buoyed by the man at her side. He was as quiet as he had ever been in company, but physically attentive to those speaking. She wondered if she had misread him before, even when his haughtiness was full on display - did he truly expect the whole room to listen when he spoke? Or did he simply only speak when he was fully confident in what he had to say?

As the conversation wore on, Elizabeth noticed that Miss Darcy seemed to be feeling the strain of bearing with the company for so long. If she were as unrefined as her own young sisters, she was sure she would have yawned several times by now. Her aunt noticed it too, and with compliments and assurances to their young hostess, announced it was time to end the evening.

Elizabeth made a point of taking Miss Darcy's hands. "You have outdone yourself! Thank you for a most delightful evening. I hope we will see each other again very soon."

She was rewarded with a warm smile. "I am certain we will!"

Mr Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and she took it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was not the first time a sole gentleman had paid her such attentions throughout an evening, but it was the first where she had not wearied of the man's company or bristled at his possessiveness. When Mr Darcy attended her, it did not feel like ownership - it felt like… care.

"When might I see you again?" His voice was again quiet, and intimate, sending a thrill through her.

"Tomorrow we are shopping for Jane's trousseau, but I am available to you any other day you care to make plans."

"Tuesday, then?"

His eagerness echoed her own and she was too busy suppressing a laugh of delight to answer, so he continued.

"If the weather is fair, we could take a walk through Hyde Park."

The hope in his eyes made her giddy all over again. "I look forward to it, Mr Darcy. Very much."

He held her wrap for her, then kissed her hand and promised, "Until Tuesday, Miss Elizabeth."

They spoke no more, even as she donned her gloves and he walked her to the carriage, handing her up himself. Mr Darcy made a pleasant farewell to the party, and she could see that he had his eyes trained on her as they pulled away even though the darkness probably meant he couldn't make her out. She could see him though, and watched him as long as possible, studying the contours of his face in the dim light until they turned out of sight.

Everyone else in the carriage was exchanging impressions of the evening in the tired but happy tones of those well-satisfied. Elizabeth spoke when addressed but was otherwise silent, grateful for the darkness of the carriage so it was less obvious that she was not even looking at anything specific.

She was too busy reliving the moment when Mr Darcy brought her hand to his lips and the way his eyes slid closed as if he were savoring a particularly fine bite of a meal when he did so.

Jane honored Elizabeth's clear disinclination for conversation up until they were both tucked under the covers. Then after a moment she asked quietly, "Did you enjoy the evening, Lizzy?"

She couldn't help a contented sigh escaping. "Very much. I do not think there was a way to improve upon it."

Her sister rolled over and planted a kiss on her temple. "I think your future home looks lovely. Charles and I look forward to many like evenings."

"Do not tease me so!" Elizabeth blushed, pushing her away. After a moment, she asked hesitantly, "Has Mr Bingley…said anything?"

"We would not meddle in the middle," Jane said disapprovingly, before relenting. "But what I shall say is, we both agreed it looks very promising. Now go to sleep. You have a long day of shopping and pining for your gentleman tomorrow."

Elizabeth laughed in surprise. "Where has this teasing come from?"

"From you, dearest." Her sister's voice was amused and sleepy. "But I shall desist. Sweet dreams."

And sweet they were.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth slept later than was her wont, mostly because whenever she began to surface into wakefulness, she chose to return to the cozy cocoon of her dreams. When at last she could no longer recall them beyond knowing that they felt like being wrapped in a blanket by a fire with a good book - and Mr Darcy was there - she stretched and sat with her thoughts.

The night before had been like a fairy tale, and it was not the first morning lately she had been certain her dreams had been taken up by Mr Darcy. Yesterday she had fretted about guarding her heart, but when they had danced together and she forgot to do so, he had been so warm and open that she felt quite encouraged in return. She wondered if he had been wanting for encouragement as well, and determined that the time for reserve had passed. She would not pursue him relentlessly, of course, or break propriety - but if he had been waiting for a sign from her, she would find a way to give it.

The ladies had an excellent time shopping, and for the most part Elizabeth was able to keep her mind off the most enigmatic gentleman she knew. That is, until at their last shop when she noticed the floral display on the counter included daffodils.

"What a beautiful arrangement," she told the shopkeeper when she next walked by.

"Why thank you, miss! I have a girl who brings fresh flowers regularly, straight from Covent Garden."

It was too late to add to their shopping adventure, too far across town, and would invite too many questions. "I wonder," Elizabeth asked hesitantly, "if I might be able to purchase it from you? We will not be able to make our own trip to Covent Garden today."

The woman named a price that made Elizabeth balk. She was not in the habit of purchasing flowers, preferring to gather any herself when they were available, but where would she find any wild in London before Mr Darcy arrived on the morrow? It was too late in the season in any case, and this might be her only opportunity.

"And how much if I merely ask for a few of the daffodils?" She ignored Jane's curious looks as she negotiated with the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper did not want to unbalance the look of the bouquet but agreed that if Elizabeth removed all the daffodils it would be acceptable. It took all the coins she had left in her reticule, but she considered it worth foregoing the length of ribbon she had been eyeing.

Mrs Gardiner was surprised at her purchase, but didn't question it - perhaps Elizabeth's well-known love of nature would work in her favor and help her avoid any interrogation.

That hope lasted only until they were back in Gracechurch street and Elizabeth began arranging them in a vase "to brighten the entranceway". Mrs Gardiner continued into the house, but Jane stayed behind to watch her sister work.

Elizabeth ignored her.

"Daffodils, Lizzy?" her sister asked, pointedly.

She blushed brightly, but studied the flowers intently and avoided Jane's eyes. Her sister kept silent, but shifted closer. Elizabeth turned away and her eyes fell on the calling cards in the salver. She picked two up. "Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst came today?"

"Charles said they might," Jane replied calmly. "He informed them of our news the day you arrived." She was clearly still waiting for Elizabeth to speak of the flowers.

"My dear Miss Bennet, I long to see you again and congratulate you in person," Elizabeth read aloud. "I am sure she does."

Her sister was unmoved. "Do you know the meaning of daffodils?"

Elizabeth broke away from the cards and finally looked at Jane. "Oh - I had not thought of it. What do they mean?"

"New admiration and regard. Burgeoning feelings."

Elizabeth busied herself with replacing the cards in the salver.

Jane was relentless. "Tell me, dearest sister, why someone who has always been careful with her purchases walked into a millinery for ribbon and left with flowers? Ones that she insists on displaying by the front door for callers."

Elizabeth broke. She had been bursting with the idea anyway - torn between keeping it private like the precious knowledge it was, and wanting to shout about it in joy. She also wanted to have confirmation she was interpreting the situation correctly. "Do you remember my handkerchief I embroidered with daffodils? I was rather happy with how it turned out." At Jane's nod, Elizabeth continued, rubbing her thumb along the rim of the vase. "It was the one I was carrying the morning I met Mr Darcy in the park and…he had need of one. I handed it to him, then promptly forgot all about it until I was packing and I realized it was missing."

Jane merely raised her eyebrows with a small, knowing smile.

"Now, I do not know that he kept it, Jane, but … Miss Darcy did say he was displaying a sudden fondness for daffodils and had them displayed in multiple rooms. To make him smile, she said."

Jane's own smile grew wider.

Elizabeth threw up her hands. "No need to look so smug! I suppose because his sister says he likes the flower that he may or may not have noticed on a handkerchief he may or may not have even kept, it's proof he has a tendre for me? Well, I am not so ridiculous as to assume that. I strive to be a rational creature."

Their aunt came back into the room. "Girls!" she exclaimed impatiently. Are you coming in? Apparently we missed some deliveries for you two!"

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged glances, then hastened into the parlor.

There were two enormous bouquets waiting. "Apparently this one just arrived for you, Jane," Mrs Gardiner said, gesturing at one. "But this one," she added with a significant look at Elizabeth, "has been here since earlier this morning."

A wave of giddiness swept through Elizabeth as she reached for the red rose bouquet. It was beautiful in a stately way that suited Mr Darcy, the bold red offset by ivy leaves, and smelled heavenly. She eagerly picked up the small card. It read, very simply:

Until tomorrow.

F. Darcy

Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth thought. It was a mouthful, to be sure, but she could not imagine him going by any sort of diminutive form. William? No, he would have written a W. Fitz? Cute, but not fitting. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"That is all he wrote?" Mrs Gardiner looked surprised. She seemed ready to console her niece, but Elizabeth pressed the card to her chest.

"It is very like him," she sighed happily. At her aunt's dubious look, she explained, "I would much rather an honest message I can hear him saying than prose he copied from someone else." She felt unusually defensive, but relaxed when her aunt nodded in understanding.

Jane gave a happy sigh as well and Elizabeth immediately took a sister's prerogative of reading her note over her shoulder.

I was advised not to send you these but now I know your heart better.

I will never doubt it again, or give you cause to doubt me.

Yours forevermore,

Charles

"Why should he not have sent you these, Jane? Do you think his sisters are still interfering with terrible advice?"

Jane gave a serene smile. "Orange lilies symbolize hatred and bitterness. But I once told him, at Netherfield last autumn, that I rather liked the look of them. He remembered both that I pay attention to flower meanings, and that I favor these ones anyway."

Elizabeth put her arm around her sister to give her a squeeze.

"What did Mr Darcy send to you, Lizzy?" Jane finally had attention to spare and gasped when she looked at the rose bouquet. "I think your suitor paid close attention to the flower messages. The greenery symbolizes fidelity and enduring faithfulness. The flowers -"

"I am not a complete simpleton. Even I know what red roses mean." Elizabeth was sure her face matched the bouquet.

Jane smiled triumphantly. "Yes, but if these are Provence roses, they carry an extra message: my heart is in flames."

Elizabeth was useless the rest of the day.

-o-

Elizabeth had never felt so antagonistic toward time. No matter how often she glanced at the clock, it was not yet visiting hours. Her aunt, with a small fond smile, had assured her that the gentlemen were likely to arrive as soon as may be - and in fact, she was right, with them arriving a shade on the early side. Elizabeth was already standing when they arrived in the parlor, less out of polite respect and more out of eagerness to already be on their way. Happily, everyone else felt as eager as she, and refreshments for the gentlemen were declined out of concern for keeping the horses standing.

As they gathered their outerwear in the entranceway, Elizabeth made a point of standing by the daffodils. Mr Darcy's eyes lit up after he had replaced his hat, and she smiled happily, confident the message was received.

Now they were strolling through the park, and she was trying to decide on how to open a conversation since he could not be relied on for it. Mr Bingley and Jane had already fallen behind, but no one made any attempt to keep the group intact.

"I trust your family is in good health?"

She swallowed a smile and ducked her head, realizing she was going to have to work with him. She adored that he was trying polite small talk, but he needed a new conversational gambit. "Yes, we are all well. I wanted to thank you, Mr Darcy, for the lovely flowers." She peeked up at him to see how he reacted.

"I am pleased to hear it. I had wondered if you had received them." He did look pleased, and a little relieved she thought.

"Oh yes! I'm afraid they graced my aunt's drawing room for a scant hour before I whisked them up to my room, all the better to admire them at my writing desk."

He gave one of her favorite smiles at that, the one where he was trying hard to fight the smile but only succeeded in pressing his dimples into view. "When Richard and I were boys and first heard of the secret meanings of flowers, we thought we would be able to send fully coded messages to each other, setting up clandestine meetings and the like. You can imagine our disappointment when most of the messages merely dealt with feelings."

"A devastating blow!" she laughed. "You poor boys."

"And you?" he asked, eyeing her carefully but not fully turning his head to face her. "Are you a student of floriography?"

She hoped her blush was not obvious, remembering Jane had very nearly smirked when she had told her. "I know only the most obvious, but Jane has been invaluable to me. Unless -" She broke off, realizing that she could have been reading into signals he had not meant to send. "Perhaps you abandoned your studies in your disappointment and now choose flowers at random?"

Elizabeth could feel his shoulder relax - she hadn't realized he had been so tense. "I will admit that I have only had cause to send flowers to relatives, with no need to specify particular flowers…until now. But Georgiana is a devotee of flower meanings and was a great help to me as well."

It had not been a coincidence. She tried to contain her grin. "I see."

His hand covered hers, and she felt bold enough to walk even closer to him. The warmth she felt had little to do with the sun and everything to do with the man beside her. It reminded her of how her dreams had felt lately, and she began to hope they would have many such walks. Would they have the opportunity? Would they grow comfortable with each other's company, and spend time together? She pictured the cozy, well-used sitting area in his library. Would they spend evenings there, by the fire, surrounded by books and the warmth of each other?

She was suddenly reminded of the time they had previously spent together in a library, at Netherfield. She had been extremely conscious of Mr Darcy's presence then as well, but it had been cold. She had braced herself for his glares but he had not deigned to even notice her. It felt nice in his company now, but in an instant a very different future spiraled before her. After a few years of dealing with her family, and children - what if she never bore Pemberley an heir? What if she never bore him children at all? Would they become as indifferent as her own parents, existing in separate rooms? Perhaps it wouldn't even require years. She still had no idea what had caused his behavior to change from one day to the next. If something else unknown happened, would she be subject to his cold silence once more?

"You look thoughtful," he said gently, and she was surprised to see a tightness around his eyes. "Will you not share what is on your mind?"

Oh dear, she thought in dismay. How could she speak of this? Mr Darcy had done nothing lately to spark these fears. "I am sorry for my distraction. It has been a lovely walk so far. I suppose I was wondering…" Her thoughts were racing now. Would they have such privacy any other time soon? It might be her chance to ask. "You mentioned an experience that you felt changed you. Will you tell me what it was?"

He faltered. "Is it not enough to know that I have changed?"

Was it? No. Should it be? Was it fair to him, these fears? She could not say. "I suppose my concern is…that until I know what caused the change, it is harder for me to trust the change to be…lasting." She looked up at him. "Is that awful of me?"

Mr Darcy had come to a complete stop, and Elizabeth did as well. At least he did not drop her hand, or even look angry. He was just still, his face impassive, but she could tell he was deep in thought. "It does not reflect well on me," he said at last. "And it is…difficult to believe. If I had not experienced it, I would deem it impossible."

She looked at him, touched that he would confide in her once more. He was such a private man, she reflected, and it must be lonely to live so closed off. He could not be in the habit of opening up to people. "If you are willing to trust me with it, I will keep your confidences and promise to hear with an open mind."

He met her eyes seriously. "Very well. Hopefully you will not commit me to Bedlam." One corner of his mouth twitched in an attempted smile, and he looked around. "Shall we sit?" He pointed to a bench off the path.

Elizabeth was as encouraging as she knew how to be, smiling gently and squeezing his hand as he led her to the bench. She gestured for him to join her, but he remained standing, visibly steeling himself for a long moment before he began.

"You remember when we walked in the glade and I… Well, I was surprised to find it was Friday?"

She arched an eyebrow, determined not to laugh so early in what was clearly a difficult explanation for him. "I do. You were particularly surprised by the color of my dress."

It still gave Elizabeth a thrill to coax a smile out of Mr Darcy. He looked at her, very intently, for such a long moment that she almost thought to be nervous again before he continued. "I don't know if it was a dream, a - a temporary madness, or a break in reality itself but… I was surprised because I had spent several weeks repeating the previous day."

She blinked. She had understood all of his words correctly, she was sure, but could not quite understand the sentence as a whole.

"Every morning I woke on Thursday in my room at Rosings, even if I went to sleep in London. I experienced the same events, over and over, unless I interfered to change things. Each time, I was the only one to remember any events or conversations on any previous Thursday. To them - to you - every yesterday was Wednesday."

His remark about Bedlam earlier had not been a joke then - he clearly understood that he sounded mad. He was looking at her again, apprehension clearer than any expression she had seen on his face, and even in her lack of understanding in the conversation she wanted to reach out and wipe away the lines of anxiety. "That…that must have been very…" She tried to imagine what it would be like to live the same day on repeat, to constantly return to the same point no matter what you tried. "Disorienting," she managed.

His expression softened. "It took several days before I even had an idea of what was happening. I spent the first in a foul temper, convinced everyone was forgetful. Then I assumed it a convoluted dream. But one night I injured my hand, and the next morning it was as if the cut had never happened."

Elizabeth could easily imagine his temper at his well-ordered life turning upside down. A dream… perhaps it had just been a dream, a nightmare he had been trapped in? That would explain the disappearing injury, and how he had woken to discover no real time had passed. How many "days" had he experienced? Was it that dream feeling of knowing time had jumped, or had he felt each moment of each one? "How did you spend all that time?"

Mr Darcy took a deep breath, then looked her solidly in the eye. "Trying to win you."

"Oh," she blushed. But - she had not liked him at that time. "Oh dear," she murmured.

He huffed a laugh. "Yes, well… by you I was properly humbled. You acquainted me with several of my flaws and I had the time to consider all you said and work to change my thinking. To you, I appeared changed overnight; I do not blame you for wondering if I would revert to my former - as you put it - arrogance and selfish disdain for the feelings of others. But in reality, I have spent the last month or so improving myself."

A month? She had told him she found him arrogant? She stood, needing to move while she worked through this puzzle. "Can we continue to walk?"

"Of course." He invited her to stand, and she took off quickly.

Surely a dream of his own making would have catered to his whims? If he had dreamt this passage of time, he might have woken feeling they had an understanding, which would have infuriated her; instead he approached her almost timidly that morning, missing the confidence he had worn before. That would mean he had interacted with a realistic version of her, at any rate. One that spoke her accurate feelings, and though she had not exactly pretended affinity for Mr Darcy before, she had prided herself on maintaining strict politeness. But a month? Between one day and the next? That was impossible. Surely she would have some memory. There would be some proof, something that - oh.

"Jane told me of your claim that I had spoken to you of Miss Bingley's letter, but I could not account for it. This conversation did happen, then? We spoke of it on - on one of those days I do not remember?" She was proud of herself for how steady her voice stayed. This was insanity.

"I had not realized I had betrayed knowledge I was not supposed to have, but yes. You were the one that informed me of it."

Very well. Not a dream then, unless his dreams were prophetic. She briefly considered, then discarded, the idea that he was toying with her. Not only could she not discern a purpose for such a thing, the man she had come to know would not do such a thing. Ever since that morning, she had seen him in a different light. That he would entrust such a confidence to her had meant something, something intangible but important. Her heart sank.

"So when you confided in me about your sister… you had no expectation of me remembering that conversation. It was not meant to happen?" Elizabeth had not realized how much she had been relying on that moment until now. He had bared his soul, and she had cherished that, but now it turned out to be an accident.

He stopped her with a hand to her arm, turning her to face him so abruptly that they were far closer than they had ever stood, except that morning in his arms. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. "I admit I had lost hope of time moving forward," he told her earnestly, their proximity or something in his voice bringing a new intensity. "But I genuinely wanted your advice, and even before I understood I was trapped in time I had confided in you about last summer. Although, not so…emotionally."

She searched his face, unsure if she believed him because of his honesty or because she hoped it to be true. Could she trust him? That was the real question. After all, he could have said anything reasonable instead of spouting this ridiculous story. Speaking of the ridiculous… "And then when we took tea at Rosings?"

He pulled back slightly, embarrassed, the air between them easing as he released her arm. "Ah, I will admit I probably would not have behaved so had I known everyone would remember. But you cannot know the boredom of reliving the same conversations that were already tedious the first time." Mr Darcy gave a small tilt to his head. "And it made you smile."

Something in her heart eased, and Elizabeth couldn't help but return his smile. That he would make himself ridiculous just to see her amusement - that he would seek her company after she had apparently insulted him - that he would be trusting her any of this now… it all endeared him to her more than ever.

"Do you think me mad?"

She shook her head. "I cannot say it is easy to believe, but I know you would not lie to me. I don't know how to grasp the idea of time….misbehaving, but even if it was merely a vivid dream, it sounds as if it was a profound experience for you. I am honored that you shared with me."

Mr Darcy relaxed once more, tension flowing out of him as they turned and continued to walk. She wondered how many times they had walked side by side.

"I must say," she said lightly, "it is a strange feeling to know we have spent time together that you remember and I do not. Especially if the amount of time was as significant as that -  how many conversations I must be missing! Did anything else pass between us I should be aware of?"

Elizabeth glanced up at him and was surprised at the emotions that swept across his face. Guilt may have been one of them, but there were so many. All the tension he had recently released was back in full effect, to the point where she was not even sure he was breathing. Concerned, this time she was the one to reach for his arm, stopping him. "I can see by your face that there is something. Come," she coaxed. "It cannot be so bad."

He did not turn to face her. "I am afraid it is," he said tightly. "There was one morning I…" He looked down, continuing in a low voice filled with shame. "I attempted liberties I should not have. I stole a kiss even knowing you would not welcome it."

She should be angry, she knew. If she had been aware of it at the time, or if he had confessed that first morning when she still viewed him as the haughty Mr Darcy, she may never have forgiven him. But the man before Elizabeth now was wretched, misery etched in every line of his face. He clearly regretted his action and wished he could make it so it had never happened - and after all, didn't he succeed? Elizabeth had no memory of the kiss. She had already had her first kiss - from the man she kept dreaming of kissing, no less - and it hadn't actually happened. She found herself saying, "Well, that seems rather unfair."

Mr Darcy hung his head. "If there were any recompense I could offer, I would."

"You would put yourself in my power?"

He raised his head, finally meeting her eyes with an intense look, then nodded once.

Interesting. "Very well. Close your eyes."

He obeyed immediately. Elizabeth had no plan, no set course in mind, but it was nice to take this moment to observe him while she decided. Except since he was standing at his full height instead of looking at her, it was difficult to see his face. She glanced around and spotted a decorative cluster of rocks. That would do as well as anything, she supposed, and grabbed his forearm to lead him. She wondered if he would open his eyes, but he kept them decidedly shut, following her blindly. Even when they reached her destination and she pivoted him to face the rock before climbing up, he stood there, eyes shut, waiting.

She was awestruck by his trust in her. He could have no notion of what she was going to do, since she had little idea of it herself. At a glance, he could be mistaken for being as stiff as haughty as ever, but Elizabeth knew better now. From this higher angle, she could see the tightness around his mouth, the severity of his brow, the tension he carried in his shoulders that was not present when they walked arm in arm. She was struck by how well she actually knew Mr Darcy. Even in the autumn she had recognized these signs in him, but had chosen the worst possible interpretation. It did not excuse all his behavior, but would a man merely performing contriteness cede himself so entirely to her?

She gently brushed the lock of hair off his forehead and he sucked in a sharp breath, the furrow in his brow disappearing. Had he been expecting her to slap him? As if she could inflict such further pain on him. She gave into temptation and took off his hat, running her fingers of her other hand through his curls. She had longed to do this and even though she cursed her gloves, was fascinated by the way they sprung out after her hand passed through them. Very slightly, he had turned his head toward her hand, eyes still closed.

Mr Darcy stood like a man waiting the verdict of the gallows, hardly daring to hope. And what was his crime? He had stolen a kiss. Her eyes dropped to his lips. Well, she could steal it back. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his before she lost the courage.

Elizabeth held her breath and pulled back to gauge how he would take this, just in time to see his eyes comically pop open. "Elizabeth! Wh - but - you despised me!"

She laughed, never having heard him so inarticulate before, and waved his idea away. "That is all forgot! I admit I have not always like you so well as I do now, but you improve on further acquaintance."

"Now that I am changed, you mean."

"In essentials," she told him, daring to put her free hand over his heart, "I believe you are the same as you ever were."

He covered her hand with his own, pressing it tightly as if he was afraid she would run away. "Elizabeth, I…"

She did not mind one jot that he had dropped the honorific from her name. He seemed to have lost his words, for he was just looking at her, but his eyes were so unguarded and hopeful she did not mind. Mr Darcy reached for her other hand but bumped into his hat instead - surprised, he looked down, then took it and tossed it to the ground so he could gather her hand into his chest as well. He was staring at their hands and Elizabeth could not resist caressing him.

He looked at her again. "I am yours," he told her in a low voice that thrummed through her being, "if you will have me."

If? She glanced down at their clasped hands, and wondered that he could still be in any doubt, but thrilled that he had spoken. She nodded, once again too overcome for words (what this man did to her!), and he seemed to swell, glancing around.

"May I - kiss you now?"

She laughed in delight. "You had better!"

Mr Darcy leaned in, and she found her eyes closing as he kissed her. It was a half dozen kisses or so, really, that melted together and slid into each other. Later Elizabeth reflected that maybe time did play tricks on them after all, since everything slowed and narrowed to the point where their lips met. Oh, the kiss! She had not realized it could be so - so - much. It was more than lips. Oh, his lips were soft, and she could taste him, but it was also his hand coming up to cradle her face, his thumb sweeping across her cheek, their breath mingling together. He began to withdraw, but seemed to change his mind, kissing each of her lips separately before pulling back. She kept her eyes closed to savor the moment.

"My darling," he said with a wealth of feeling, and she opened her eyes with a wave of lightheaded giddiness. His hand slid from her face to her neck. "We should probably continue our walk."

"Yes, we should," she agreed, but she was not ready to relinquish this moment, and she could tell he was not either. He still had one of her hands clasped tightly to his chest. Everything felt so still and perfect, and all she could see was Mr Darcy. She leaned in and kissed him again, just once, and then they hovered with the slightest space between them, knowing they should not continue. Knowing they both wanted to. After a long moment, he broke the tension by tilting away, resting his forehead on hers, and she knew it was time to let the rest of the world exist again.

Still holding her hand, he helped her down from the rock, only relinquishing it when he could offer his arm. Elizabeth wrapped both hands around it, as close to him as she could be while they walked, gratified that he covered her top hand with his own and pulled her in just as close. It was the slowest they had ever walked, their meander out of this little sanctuary of trees, occasionally glancing at each other. She knew she was beaming, and so was he, his dimples on full display. There were no further words. They didn't need them.

At the path, another couple saw them emerge and Elizabeth blushed, wondering if they could guess what she and Mr Darcy had been up to. The woman was definitely hiding some giggles behind her fan, turning toward her partner. Mr Darcy went to doff his hat, but froze. She glanced up and laughed.

"Your hat!" She turned back and raced to retrieve it, Mr Darcy following behind. She picked it up from where he had dropped it to the ground, glad the weather had been dry and it just needed the dirt dusted off. She stepped back on the rock so she could easily reach his head to replace it. "There!"

He was looking up at her, exactly as he had before, and he began reaching toward her -

Mr Bingley's voice cut through the air. "I thought that was you, Darcy!" Elizabeth stepped neatly off the rock to stand a respectable distance away. "You darted off the path before we could catch up to you."

She turned to face the intruders, wishing for the first time that her beloved sister were seven leagues away. "We had to fetch his hat."

"His hat?" Jane asked skeptically.

"Oh yes," she grinned, "a fierce gust of wind swept it away."

Mr Bingley was looking between her and Mr Darcy. "Right off your head, eh?"

Mr Darcy was also grinning, and he nodded. "It was uncanny. I'm sure you felt it, Bingley?"

Mr Bingley laughed. "Perhaps I did at that!"

Elizabeth's heart swelled - she had not expected Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy to play along in such a silly story. Jane was watching her suspiciously and Elizabeth blushed under the scrutiny. Mr Darcy caught her eye, tilted his head toward her sister and his friend, and raised an eyebrow. She smiled to know he was asking her permission, and granted it with a nod.

He beamed. It really was unfair how handsome he was. He came close to her side, taking her hand. "Will you congratulate us?"

Immediately, Jane gasped and hugged Elizabeth so quickly she was almost thrown off balance. Mr Bingley similarly assaulted Mr Darcy, grasping his hand and shaking it so vigorously you would have thought Mr Bingley was the one more excited by the news. "Oh, well done, Darce!" he declared. "We are to be brothers after all!"

They then neatly exchanged places, Jane taking Mr Darcy's hand while Mr Bingley took hers. "Congratulations, Miss Elizabeth! I can think of no better match for my friend; he is happier than I have seen him in years. God bless you!"

Jane spoke next. "I am so pleased, but we came seeking you because the carriage is surely waiting. We should be getting back."

They arranged themselves back into the correct pairings and began heading toward the gate. Mr Darcy was still walking slower than they had in the past, allowing Jane and Mr Bingley to pull ahead. Elizabeth tilted her head toward him and spoke quietly, wanting to preserve some shred of the intimacy that had cloaked them before. "Tea was planned with your presence in mind, if you are willing to stay for it."

He gave a dazzling smile. "Willing? I do not know how I could possibly leave your side so soon. I am very willing."

"And I have authorization to invite you and your sister to dinner again, if tomorrow is not too soon." She hoped it would not be.

"Would it be too much to ask if her companion can attend as well? Georgiana has exerted herself to do so much for me this past week," he explained, "and while I know she has enjoyed the company of your family I believe she would be more comfortable with Mrs Annesley there. You have not met her yet, but I think she has been good for Georgiana."

Would her heart always melt at his demonstration of care for his sister? "I am sure we could invite them both. Miss Darcy is a lovely young lady. Does she - will she approve of me, do you think?"

"Georgiana will be overjoyed," he told her, pressing her hand. "I think she may have suspected my interest in you even before Kent. And when I returned… I followed your advice. I must thank you again." At her questioning look, he explained. "My feelings for you, and my desire to introduce the two of you - that was the confidence I shared. We were able to converse, and our relationship has been improving. You have already touched and improved my life in so many ways, Elizabeth."

She loved how he said her name. "You are certainly full of flattery today, Mr Darcy," she teased him.

"Fitzwilliam," he corrected almost bashfully, picking up her hand to kiss it. "Would you like to call me Fitzwilliam? I rarely hear it, but it is my name."

"I know," she admitted, a little embarrassed. "I found out at Christmas - my aunt said it and I never forgot. I thought it suited you very well."

"It does not make you think of my cousin?"

"On the contrary," she told him. "When I was introduced to him, I believe I thought of you. Why do you ask?"

He gave a one shoulder shrug. "Many in my family call me Darcy to avoid confusion."

Elizabeth could not imagine not being called by her own Christian name. Everyone in Meryton knew it and called her by it, even when they observed the forms. "Even as boys?"

Mr Darcy - Fitzwilliam - tried to swallow his smile. "Are you trying to discover my childhood nickname?"

Oh, how she adored this surprisingly playful man! "Are you going to make me guess? It must have been exceptionally diminutive, then."

He shook his head. "It was Fitz."

"Never Fitzy?" she teased.

"Richard occasionally teased me with it, but he hated being called Dickie, so he did not often dare. Sometimes my mother said it was like living in a nursery rhyme - Fitzy, Dickie, and Geo-" He broke off suddenly, clamping his mouth shut. It took a moment before she realized why.

"Mr Wickham?" she hazarded.

He nodded, guarded once more, but not nearly as stiff with his reserve as he had been. He merely seemed… cautious. Elizabeth suddenly wondered about all the days she did not remember, where she had apparently 'acquainted him with his flaws'. Had she ever confronted him with the story Mr Wickham had told her? Had she defended a man who had so callously betrayed him and flung it in his face?

"I feel you should know," he said carefully, "I received word yesterday that he has been taken to debtor's prison. Bingley and I purchased his debts in Meryton - they were far more than he could hope to repay on his salary."

Debtor's prison? Oh dear. Mr Wickham was even worse than she had supposed. That weight was pressing on Fitzwilliam again, his brow lowered. "Do you believe you made the right choice?" she asked him.

"Unfortunately," he sighed, "I do."

"Then I am sure you did." He looked at her, a little surprised, and she squeezed his arm. "You are a good man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. You would not take this step lightly." And she knew without a doubt it was true. If she had known him any better then, she would never have fallen for Mr Wickham's lies.

Fitzwilliam glanced at the gate they were approaching. "I realize you would not remember me telling you the whole of our history -"

She interrupted him, aware their time was coming to an end. "And you do not need to tell me today. I am too happy! We have time enough for that."

She thrilled at the happiness in his eyes. He kissed her hand again.

When they reached the carriage, Mr Bingley was handing Jane inside. When Fitzwilliam helped her step up, he put a hand on the small of her back to support her. It spread warmth through her and she boldly sat opposite from her sister instead of joining her on the seat, daring anyone to gainsay her. Jane gave her a eyebrow, but Mr Bingley and Fitzwilliam both looked delighted as they entered and each sat at their lady's side. Elizabeth pretended that her skirts hid their intertwined fingers and noticed Jane doing the same.

She had never been so grateful for Mr Bingley's chatter. He spoke on whatever came to mind - his delight at his friend's happiness, eagerness to be at tea, a puppy they had met in the park, anticipation for many future days sharing the same company. Elizabeth was gratified he regularly sought Jane's opinions, but felt too much to join in the conversation herself. She had no idea if Mr Darcy was even paying attention to his friend, he sneaked so many glances and smiles at her without even looking at Mr Bingley at all. She did not mind, for she was returning every one.

When they arrived at Gracechurch street, the gentlemen descended first and handed out their lady, and Fitzwilliam only reluctantly released her hand. He hesitated in offering his arm. "Your uncle - should I speak to him? He should be applied to, or at least informed."

"Oh! He may not be home until after tea," she fretted.

"I am more than happy to wait for him, if that is agreeable to you."

Elizabeth gave him a happy smile, then took his arm. "Shall we?" she asked, and together they stepped toward their future.

Chapter Text

Mr Darcy - Fitzwilliam - stayed quieter than he had when in company recently, but with such a smile on his face that Elizabeth had a difficult time maintaining her own equanimity. Her aunt had taken one look at them and happily did not pry, merely giving her a knowing look.

During tea, Mr Bingley raised the idea of a picnic in the park the next day and plans were agreed to by all before he was obliged to leave in order to escort his sister to an outing. When Jane walked her intended to the door but Fitzwilliam sat sipping at his tea, betraying no desire to move, Mrs Gardiner looked very satisfied indeed. She invited him to stay for dinner, but he demurred, saying he needed to get home to Georgiana and could not possibly impose on her two nights in a row. Still, he betrayed no signs of impatience or eagerness to leave. It was only a few minutes after Jane returned that Mr Gardiner entered.

It was then that Fitzwilliam surged eagerly to his feet. "Gardiner," he greeted him with uncharacteristic warmth. "I realize you have only just arrived home, but I wonder if I might have a word with you - when convenient. I am at your leisure."

Elizabeth bit back a smile as her uncle blinked, unused to being greeted so enthusiastically by anyone who was not his own child. "Good afternoon, Darcy." He glanced at Elizabeth, then smiled. "I am very willing to do so now, if you like. Unless you have need of me, my dear?"

After Mrs Gardiner waved the men off, she gave Elizabeth a very expectant stare until the young woman blushed.

"We are engaged!"

"I just knew how it would be!" her aunt exclaimed, standing and coming to give her a hug. "Oh, my girls! You shall both be well settled, and to men who suit you so well. Your mother will go quite distracted!"

Elizabeth laughed while Jane smiled. "Careful, aunt," she teased. "Or you will be inundated by the rest of us with orders to duplicate your success."

"Oh, I should be safe enough. Neither of you met your gentlemen while in town."

It was no time at all before the gentlemen reentered, both smiling. "I see you have heard the news," Mr Gardiner observed. "I suppose there is no need for a formal announcement?"

Fitzwilliam had come directly to Elizabeth's side, and she thrilled at him publicly taking her hand. "Perhaps we can defer it to tomorrow? I really must not be too late to dinner with my sister, and such an occasion deserves a proper toast."

Everyone agreed, and after Fitzwilliam took his leave Elizabeth walked him to the door.

"That was quick!" She still could not contain her smiles.

Neither could he. "I was too eager to beat about the bush. I am afraid I did not even ask his permission - just said you had accepted me and I wanted to inform him as your current guardian. He said I have made you happy." He raised her hand to his lips. "Dearest Elizabeth!"

She still felt shy about touching him, but she reached up to cup his face and was rewarded with him turning to press against her palm. "I look forward to returning to the park tomorrow," she told him, and watched has his eyes flew open to give her an intense look of promise. His eyes dropped to her lips, but the footman was approaching so he merely touched a brief finger to her cheek in lieu of a kiss, then accepted his outerwear.

"Goodnight," he told her in a low voice. "Until tomorrow."

Elizabeth thought those might be her new favorite words.

That night, in the guest room, the scene was much the same as their first night reunited - but with the roles reversed. Elizabeth had wanted to make sure Jane did not feel overshadowed, content to wait, but Jane said it would be the perfect chance to stand up for each other and entreated her to share the day. Now they were sitting on the bed, Jane begging Elizabeth for the details of what had happened in the park.

"We spoke of - " she faltered, unsure of how to explain what Jane definitely would not understand. She felt extraordinarily protective of her future husband - she thrilled just at the thought - and did not want even the chance of Jane looking askance at him, wondering at his sanity. "Well, he explained how he had come to change his mind on some things and improve his behavior."

Jane looked at her expectantly.

"He…took some things I said to heart," she explained lamely.

Her sister smiled. "Every woman wants a man who listens to her. And then?"

"Then…" Elizabeth trailed off, blushing furiously.

"He kissed you, did he not?" Jane's eyes widened. "Oh Lizzy! Did he - No, an honorable man like Mr Darcy would have proposed before stealing kisses. What did he say? I can imagine him being the type to make a long, impassioned speech." She was hugging the pillow tightly, smiling up at her sister, her excitement rendering her more talkative than usual.

A prickle of unease ran through Elizabeth's happiness, but she wasn't quite sure why. "He just said I am yours, if you will have me."

Jane looked surprised. "Is that all? Oh - perhaps I was mistaken - he is taciturn, after all, and a very different creature from Charles." When Elizabeth stayed silent, she prompted her with, "And you said?"

"I think I said yes. Or perhaps I merely nodded." Elizabeth bit her lip.

"Then he asked you to be his wife? Or to marry him? How did he phrase it?"

"Er - well…" She shifted. "Then he asked to kiss me, and I told him he should…" she trailed off again, a little dreamy as she remembered the kisses they had shared. Only…

"I take your blush to mean that he did. I am happy for you, Lizzy - you would not be happy with a man with no passion. It is very romantic, after all, that he offered himself instead of assuming you were his for the taking."

Elizabeth made some noises of agreement, but was beginning to be too troubled for conversation. She laid back in the bed to avoid looking at her sister, who followed suit.

After a long moment, Jane asked very hesitantly, "Did he…did he use his tongue?"

"His tongue?!" Elizabeth was so surprised, she sat up and looked over, her worries fleeing in the face of this. "Jane! Did Mr Bingley -"

"Not the first time," her sister broke in, flushing beet red. "But today in the park -"

"You were kissing Mr Bingley in the park today?"

"You were kissing Mr Darcy!"

"Not with our tongues!" Elizabeth couldn't figure out why she was so scandalized, but this was Jane.

"At least we are all engaged!" Jane cried, covering her cheeks with both hands. "Oh, I just wondered is all!" She turned over to hide her face.

"Forgive me, Jane." Elizabeth laid back as well, contrite. It was a long moment before she continued. "…Was it nice? Did you like it?"

"…Yes," came the muffled, reluctant answer.

She spent a moment trying to imagine Fitzwilliam kissing her lips with his tongue out, expecting to feel disgusted but only ended up…intrigued. "How does it work?"

Jane rolled back onto her back, but Elizabeth was blushing and staring fixedly at the ceiling. She assumed her sister was doing the same. "We were kissing, and then he…opened his mouth a little more, so I did as well, and then…our tongues…touched. At first it seemed like it might have been an accident, but then…it very much was not."

Elizabeth was having a hard time reconciling this information with the fact that it was dear, sweet Jane saying it. Thinking of Mr Bingley's tongue made her scrunch her face up in distaste, but if it was a normal thing that men liked… she wondered if it would please Fitzwilliam. "Was it better than the other kisses you've shared?"

She could feel Jane shaking her head. "No, they are only…different. Oh, I do not know, perhaps. It was…entirely thrilling. I am sure you will learn what I mean."

They talked a little more, but both girls were clearly distracted by their thoughts. "At the picnic tomorrow…" Elizabeth began slowly. "I mean, we are all engaged, as you said…"

"I do not see why we could not split up again," Jane agreed reasonably. "After all, we will spend dinner all together as well."

"Just so."

It wasn't until Jane had drifted off to sleep that Elizabeth remembered the conversation they had been having before the subject of kissing arose. An honorable man like Mr Darcy would have proposed before stealing kisses. How little Jane knew! Mr Darcy had truly stolen a kiss, to the point where she had stolen one back.

She frowned, her previous unease coming back in full force. She had stolen a kiss. Oh, it was not the same, she had known he would welcome it - but, did she really? Jane was right. He was an honorable man. Other than that moment he had mentioned during an impossible and extraordinary situation, he would not kiss a lady without asking for her hand in marriage. And even after the kiss, he had not asked. Not specifically. He had not even said anything about marriage had he? Everyone had just…assumed.

She told herself she was being ridiculous. Everything had been pointed toward him proposing - his actions, his words, the flowers; even his confession that he had tried to win her. But perhaps…not today? She had only recently met his sister, who everyone told her was incredibly shy. Maybe he had planned on more time to acclimate them toward each other, or to prepare his family. But she had kissed him - in a public park - without so much as a by your leave! If anyone had seen - of course he would offer himself in marriage. His honor would demand it. Had she stolen his choice from him with that kiss?

She could not make up her mind. She lay awake late into the night, trying to decide if she had acted accurately or if she had pushed him. As soon as she convinced herself in one direction, she found herself doubting and wondering about the other. Everything she examined seemed to support evidence for both possibilities. He had been eager to speak to her uncle, but that could have been to get it out of the way. He had not wanted it announced, but of course he did have to leave. He had happily kissed her, but the first one had not been his choice. He had said I am yours, but he had never said any words like marriage, wife, or even engaged. He had not spoken much at tea - was that excitement, or dread?

Oh, that she knew how it was!

She was wandering the halls of Pemberley - she knew that was where she was, but it looked an awful lot like the ornate halls of Rosings - alone. So alone. It was quiet in an oppressive, heavy way - the sort of silence that reproached you for every noise you made. She quickened her pace, eager to find someone - anyone - but the only sounds or movement were made by her. At long last, she came to a door that she opened while knowing in her heart she was not supposed to. The doorway revealed the cheery library at Darcy house, so far away from where she stood in the dark hall.

"Husband," she said, relieved to see Fitzwilliam's familiar form reading in a chair.

"Wife." He spoke curtly, coldly, without glancing up from his book.

"You will not even look at me?" She held back tears.

He capitulated with a heavy sigh, but did not say anything - merely stared at her with all the hauteur of the autumn.

Elizabeth grew angry at his treatment. His eyes were not supposed to be so flat, now that she had known them full of admiration. "Let me in. You chose this, did you not? You wanted me."

"I thought I did. I realized my mistake, and if I had been allowed the time," his lip curled, "I would have chosen elsewhere."

Elizabeth woke with a gasp, tears on her cheeks and the absolute knowledge of how complete and utter heartbreak felt in her chest.

"Lizzy?" Jane muttered sleepily. "Are you well?"

"Just a nightmare, dearest - go back to sleep."

"A nightmare? What about?"

"I don't remember," she lied. She waited until Jane's breathing deepened, then slipped carefully out of the bed even though it was still early. She wrapped up in her dressing gown and sat at the window, watching the city as she wondered what it would be like to see Fitzwilliam later in the day. Eventually she decided she would have to apologize and - she swallowed thickly - offer to release him. It would break her heart, but better one large wound than to be bound and experience small, intimate cuts every day of her life.

Her aunt clucked over her paleness at breakfast, correctly attributing it to a lack of sleep but misunderstanding it as excitement. "Are you going to write your family with the news today, Lizzy?"

Anxiety clenched Elizabeth's heart tightly. "No!" she cried more forcefully than she meant to. She would keep it as private as possible until she knew where she stood. Perhaps he would consent to a long engagement. Her mind whirled to come up with an explanation for her surprised aunt. "We have not yet obtained Papa's consent, and he is not likely to read the correspondence before we arrive home in any case. We may just wait until we are back in Hertfordshire."

Her aunt was satisfied, but Jane kept giving her small, slightly worried glances. By the time their gentlemen arrived, Elizabeth was almost grateful to have the dread over with. She tugged her sister with her to meet them in the entranceway, nervous about the conversation to come but unable to resist a smile when she spied Fitzwilliam. He really was unfairly handsome, and she was relieved that he greeted her with a kiss to her hand and warmth in his eyes. She tried not to fidget as she waited for the footman to return with her outerwear.

Fitzwilliam gently touched the small collection of daffodils still on the table. "Is this your doing?"

"You did not notice them yesterday?" So much for her secret floral message. Her heart sank at this evidence of misunderstanding him yet again.

"I had eyes only for you. They must have cost you dearly."

If they had been twice as much, they still would have been well worth his small flattery at a time when her heart was to tender. "I saw them and not knowing how our walk would go, could not pass up the opportunity to display them for you." She was struck by the opportunity to seek his reassurance. "I thought this time, I could word my question about daffodils more carefully. Or do you still hold that secret close to your heart?"

He reached in his breast pocket and pulled out her own handkerchief. He had kept it.

The band around her chest eased somewhat, warmth entering her being for the first time since the night before. She spoke to cover the rush of emotion she was feeling. "I had wondered where that hat gotten to. It is one of my favorites."

"I am not returning it," he teased her. "It has been my close companion since you handed it to me - I would be bereft without it. If you miss it so much, you can reunite with it at Darcy house."

She bit her lip, trying to study him for any signs of disappointment or resignation, but he was hiding his face and giving undue attention to replacing his gloves. His words warmed her, but she needed the confirmation of his eyes. She was still unsure.

Mr Bingley had entertained them all in the carriage with anecdotes from his evening before. Fitzwilliam stayed silent, mostly looking at her in his inscrutable way. Elizabeth wished she was more confident in her interpretations of his looks; she thought she had learned to read him better, but she could not help her doubts. Now they were walking to find a relatively secluded picnic spot, somewhat apart from Mr Bingley and Jane while Fitzwilliam awkwardly carried a large basket. He kept readjusting his grip, but it insisted on striking him in the leg as he walked.

Elizabeth bit back a laugh. "Have you never carried your own picnic basket before?"

He looked at her with an interesting expression, and she glanced down in chagrin, wondering if she had inadvertently wounded him. "I have never had a picnic not at Pemberley. And what's more, I do believe my cook wanted to impress her new mistress."

His staff already knew? Her anxiety spiked again. He would never back down from his offer now, and she would always wonder; her future spent as if balancing on unsteady rocks in a stream, as she watched for hints of his disfavor.

She realized he had pulled her to the side of the path. "Elizabeth, you look…unhappy. Is something worrying you?"

Fitzwilliam was looking down at her with such gentle concern, she could not bear it. She looked away, unable to face him. "I - I did not mean to force an engagement when I -" She swallowed and tried again, the words pouring out of her. "I know you are an honorable man and I should have considered…"

He paled and pulled away from her. "I presumed too much? You do not want -"

"No!" She cried, feeling wretched at causing the pain in his face. She caught his hand with both of hers to prevent him leaving her. "No, I do want, but you did not - you never specifically asked, and I was unpardonably forward - wanton, even." Her throat burned with the effort of holding back all of her tears and shame. He could now know, of course, of all the things she had imagined the night before, but they embarrassed her all the same.

"Darling," he soothed, hastily setting down the basket and taking her by the shoulders as if to shake sense into her, although his touch was tender and steady. She stopped breathing, golden threads of hope streaking through her misery. "I have loved you for months. I have begged you to marry me more times than I can count, though you do not remember. I wrestled with time itself to win your heart. Are you afraid I might be upset because you initiated a kiss?"

His thumbs were stroking her through the light fabric of her dress, and the relief she felt at his words almost made her lightheaded. Elizabeth nearly laughed at her previous foolishness. "Well, when you put it that way," she managed weakly. She found the strength to meet his eyes, awash with emotion - warmth, concern, and most of all love. "Are you always going to have such reasonable answers?"

"I should hope so," he told her solemnly, then swept her up into a fierce embrace, arms wrapped so completely around her she was safe from any more fears or doubts.

All the tension melted out of her as she rested against his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. There was peace such as she had never known, a sense of natural belonging. Fitzwilliam pulled back and tilted her face up to him without releasing her from his hold - not that she had any desire to step away.

"Elizabeth, I admit I was surprised," he said quietly, caressing her hair at her temple and her cheek. "I had meant to give you more time, to be sure you were receiving my attentions with pleasure. If you need more time, we can have a long engagement, but never think I am unhappy to receive your affections. I cannot tell you how my heart soared when you kissed me."

"Actually, I -" She nuzzled into his hand cupping her cheek. "Well, I have been tasked with asking you how you would feel about sharing our wedding day with Jane and Mr Bingley. We have always dreamed of standing up for each other, and I understand you were going to do so for Mr Bingley anyway…" She risked a glance at his eyes, to see how he truly felt about this, and thrilled at the joy lighting them up.

"Truly? You would marry me so soon?"

He took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and it was easier to speak to them than to his face. "I admit I am sometimes frightened by how much I feel. My head says it is sudden but my heart tells me I was never indifferent to you. I hope you know my feelings are not so changeable as to embrace you one day and run the next."

He kissed her fingers. "My dearest-" kiss, "loveliest-" kiss, "Elizabeth -"

Mr Bingley interrupted them, making her nearly jump. "I say, old chap! Do keep up. You have such long legs and Miss Lizzy is such a famed walker. What can be keeping you?"

Fitzwilliam looked up as if he were praying for patience - or divine intervention - and Elizabeth laughed, fully understanding. She adored Mr Bingley, but if he hadn't been making her sister so happy she would wish him far, far away.

They made light conversation and teased each other the rest of the walk, but Elizabeth was too elated to join in much. He loved her. She thought she had been happy the day before, but it was nothing compared to walking on his arm now. Feeling like she had almost lost him made her happiness all the more precious.

They had eaten their repast, laughed a great deal, and invited each other to use their given names with relish. As Mr Bingley - Charles - said, "I have heard my Jane speak so often about her dearest Lizzy, I am afraid that is how I have long thought of you."

Elizabeth was leaning back on her hands, watching the couple on her left fondly. They were sitting close enough that their knees touched, and Charles often reached over to touch Jane's dress or ribbons or fingers, as if to reassure himself she was still there. She was as serene as ever, but glowing.

Fitzwilliam was stretched out on the other side of Elizabeth, leaning on his elbow, ruining her equanimity by stroking up and down the fingers of her hand hidden by the other two. She was finding it harder and harder to join in the conversation, and found it quite unfair he wasn't even trying.

"I believe Charles and I are going to feed the ducks," Jane announced. "Would you like to accompany us?" She gave Elizabeth a look that let her know she was not welcome to follow under any circumstances.

"We shall stay and guard the blanket," she said with a smile.

Charles jumped up with alacrity to help his intended stand, and led her away by the hand in a trice. Once they were out of hearing range, Elizabeth sat up and pivoted closer to Fitzwilliam, who was doing the same.

"Alright," she said, tucking her arms around her knees. "Let's hear them, then."

His mouth hung open for a moment. "Hear what?"

"The proposals - you said you have proposed to me multiple times but I don't remember. I would like to! For a man of four syllable words, they must have been very romantic."

The man looked so dismayed she immediately regretted her tease. "Must we speak of them today? Many of them devolved into arguments. None of them were pleasant for me."

She reached out and caressed his face, brushing that stubborn curl away from his forehead and smoothing out the creases forming there. "Very well. I would not want to mar this beautiful day. Besides, we have the rest of our lives for me to draw that information out of you."

"The rest of our lives," he agreed with a devastating smile. "I hope this will put to rest any fanciful notions that I am anything but ecstatic to be able to claim you as my own."

Elizabeth's heart was more gladdened by his words than by the sight of him removing a small jewelry box from his pocket.

"The moment I saw this, I thought of you. The first time I purchased it, I had no hope. It disappeared from my fingers just like the idea I was yet worthy of you. The second time I purchased it, hope was the thinnest gossamer thread. I am beyond all joy to be able to give this to you now, to mark our engagement."

He opened the box, revealing a dainty emerald pendant that was exactly to Elizabeth's taste. "Fitzwilliam," she breathed in awe, unable to stop herself from reaching out to touch it. "It is beautiful." And it was - not just the jewelry but the sentiment, as well as the proof that he truly had chosen her.

"Will you try it on?"

She nodded her agreement, too overcome to speak, grateful it took him a long moment to clasp it around her neck so she had the time to blink the tears from her eyes.

"It is too fine," she told him, only half teasing.

"Not for Mrs Darcy." His voice was husky, and his fingers traced a line of fire from the pendant to her shoulder. It stole her breath.

"Fitzwilliam," she whispered, unsure if it was meant to be a warning or pleading. His face was so close to hers.

"I love you," he said, and her heart expanded, filling her chest.

"And I love you," she confessed. She had not admitted such sentiments aloud before. She was falling into his gaze, the two of them wrapped in a bubble of privacy from the rest of the world, and he was leaning in - until a child's laugh cut through the air and recalled him.

He blinked like he was surfacing from underwater, taking her hand to place a searing kiss on her palm instead.

"Perhaps we should pack up the picnic," she suggested breathlessly, "and take a walk?"

They had not made it far into the trees before Elizabeth slowed and began gathering her courage.

Fitzwilliam looked curious when she took the basket from him and set it down by a tree. "Did you not want to walk by lake, to find your sister and Bingley?"

"No," she blushed, trying to lean casually against the tree with her hands behind her back. "I merely wanted to walk with you."

He stepped closer, watching her intently. "And yet we are not walking."

"No," she whispered.

He placed a hand on the tree and leaned in closer, close enough that she could feel his body heat. "Was there something else you had in mind, perhaps?"

"Yes."

He kissed her, and it was every bit as incredible as the day before, and yet different as she had to crane her head upwards while he leaned down. After a few kisses, she left her mouth open and brought her tongue forward, just to her teeth, unsure of how to go about it, but his next kiss brought his lip in contact and she could taste him. He went very still, tentatively brushing his own tongue against hers, and a jolt went through her entire body. When she did not shy away his hand left the tree and instead cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her firmly into him, and he - devoured her? It should have been off-putting, but this was Fitzwilliam, and all the thoughts were leaving her head as she got lost in the taste and feel and warmth of the one she loved.

When his onslaught slowed and then ceased, she found herself looking up at him wide-eyed, one hand threaded through his hair and the other wrapped around his cravat. Her body was flush with his, and they were both breathing hard.

"I -" Fitzwilliam began, but she pulled him back in for more. His words were beautiful, but kissing him like this was entirely different. His love for her poured into her very soul, sealing all the cracks, and she pushed her own love back at him; the opposite of tugging on a stick with a dog, the purpose here was to give the other all the feelings she could not name. It went on for - oh, longer than was wise, surely - until Fitzwilliam put some space between their bodies and rested his forehead on hers, cupping her face with both hands while they caught their breath.

"I hope that was…tolerable," she eventually whispered.

He choked a laugh. "My Elizabeth," he kissed her on the tip of her nose. "I have no words."

"I had no jewelry to give you, but I wanted to show my pleasure at our engagement. You have ruined me, Fitzwilliam! Words used to come easy to me, but they are not enough when it comes to you."

He pulled back to look at her fondly. "You will have no pity from me on that score. I have long fumbled conversation around you. And you have caused me to lose my hat again."

Elizabeth laughed as he bent down to retrieve it. "If it did not look so well on you, I would say not to bother. Alas, it suits you too well." She reached up and tapped the brim once it was secure on his head. "I hope your valet will not take against me for dirtying your hat so often."

"Wallace will have to adjust." He reached over and adjusted her bonnet slightly, then felt his own cravat. "For I have a feeling it will not be an uncommon occurrence."

"Poor Wallace. Perhaps a raise is in order? Or we could simply use some forethought." She retrieved the picnic basket for a brief moment before he took it, then accepted his arm and they began stepping back toward the path. She thrilled at their wordless understanding of each other.

Just before they left the treeline, he dropped a kiss to the top of her bonnet. "Now where would be the fun in that?"