“I’m not,” Elizabeth admitted. “I’ve always been someone who acts rather than waits. In that respect, I rather resemble Lydia.”
“Your sister does possess a certain fire,” Darcy agreed. “Although yours appears more controlled.”
“I try my best,” she said with a small laugh. “This is new for me. Charlotte jested earlier she had not known me to sit still for ten minutes together and I am afraid she was right.”
“It will come with time,” Darcy assured her.
They sat quietly, watching the line disappear beneath the water. Elizabeth forced herself to remain still, though every instinct urged movement.
“There’s virtue in stillness,” Darcy said. “In letting things unfold rather than forcing them. When you learn to be truly quiet, a peace settles in your chest that can’t be achieved through action alone.”
Elizabeth studied his profile, noting how serene he looked. “Did you discover that wisdom yourself?”
“Mr Wickham—the elder Mr Wickham—taught me that when I was ten. My father and he and his son went fishing together. My father was more impatient. Rather akin to you. But Mr Wickham was the sort who could sit still for hours upon hours, just moving to get the fish out. We spent countless hours like this beside Pemberley’s streams. Especially after my father passed. He had remarkable patience for a restless boy.”
“You speak of him fondly.”
“He’s been more father than guardian to me. Which makes recent news distressing.”
“You have had bad tidings?”
Darcy’s expression grew troubled. “Georgiana wrote that his heart is failing. I heard he was retired now but when he told me, he said it was his choice after Lord Matlock offered it. It seems this was not the truth.”
His pain tinged his words and Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. “I’m sorry. You wish to visit him?”
“Very much. And I’d like to bring you, if you’d consent. He’s eager to meet his new daughter-in-law.”
The request surprised her. “I’d be honoured to come. I wonder if the old man might know where his son is,” Elizabeth mused.
Darcy shifted, his posture growing tense. “I doubt it. He was heartbroken by how George turned out. He has taken orders now, but those who know him doubt it will last. Mr Wickham would not say it out loud but I feel he has lost all faith in George. For good reason.”
“Still, if we could find him…” Elizabeth considered. “If I could look him in the eye and ask if he attacked me, I’d know the truth. I’ve always been good at detecting lies.”
He shifted beside her, the boat swaying ever so slightly. “Would that change anything?”
“I would know if my senses deceived me or not. If he swore he was not the man who attempted to kiss me, then I could let it go, focus perhaps on who else it might have been. If he was the one, I could have him brought to justice. Somehow.” She knew even that would be difficult if he did not admit to being the one. It would be her word against his. She might be an earl’s daughter, but he was a vicar. There was no telling whose word would be believed.
“I’m not sure such knowledge would bring peace.”
“Perhaps not. But it would restore my confidence in my own perceptions.”
Suddenly Elizabeth’s rod bent violently, nearly escaping her grasp. The line sank as something powerful fought beneath the surface.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “What do I do?”
Darcy rose quickly. “May I help?” At her breathless nod, he positioned himself behind her, his arms bracketing hers as his hands covered hers on the rod. “Steady. Let him tire himself, then gradually draw him towards us.”
Elizabeth was acutely aware of every point where they touched—his chest against her shoulders, his arms surrounding her, his breath stirring her hair. Her heart hammered with excitement over both the fish and the man supporting her.
Together they worked the line, letting the fish exhaust itself before drawing it towards their boat. Elizabeth’s laughter bubbled up as silver sides flashed beneath the water.
“It’s enormous!” she gasped.
“A fine trout,” Darcy agreed. “Perhaps three pounds.”
They landed the fish together—a beautiful specimen with speckled sides that caught the sunlight. Elizabeth stared at their prize with wonder, scarcely believing her success.
As Darcy secured their catch, Elizabeth glowed with triumph. When he turned back, his expression held warmth she’d rarely seen directed at her.
