What followed was a tumult of flying stalks, tangled twine, and increasingly elaborate instructions from Mrs. Penrose that seemed togrow more complex with each failure. Children darted between the adults, offering unhelpful suggestions and occasionally absconding with critical materials. William, delighted by the general disorder, participated by flinging stalks and twine at Darcy with equal measure.
By the time they had to return to the house, William had begun to drowse against Darcy’s shoulder, his small body growing heavier with each step.
“I can take him,” Elizabeth offered, reaching for her son.
“Allow me,” Darcy said, surprising himself with the offer. “He seems quite settled.”
Elizabeth hesitated, then nodded. “He’s grown quite heavy for me to carry back from the fields.”
“Then I’m delighted to assist,” he said. “Georgiana is right. My leg has strengthened as has my back. I suppose I can be used as a draft horse for your purposes.”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, I didn’t take you for a jester.” Elizabeth’s laughter stirred a half-forgotten chord inside of him.
He wanted this. Her simple presence by his side. The child in his arms, warm and trusting. The casual comments from the tenants about their assumed domestic happiness.
“There is a place,” he said suddenly, the idea forming even as he spoke. “A spot on the eastern boundary of the estate. A hill with an ancient oak tree at its summit. I used to go there as a boy when I wished for solitude.”
Elizabeth’s expression showed polite interest, though she clearly wondered at this abrupt change of subject. “It sounds lovely.”
“It offers an excellent view of the surrounding countryside,” Darcy continued, committed now to his impulsive plan. “The autumn colors would be particularly striking from that vantage point. I thought perhaps… that is, if you and William would care to join me tomorrow… a walking party, with Georgiana and Miss Mary as well, of course.”
The invitation emerged with less grace than he had intended. YetElizabeth’s expression brightened with what appeared to be pleasure.
“That sounds delightful,” she said. “William loves nothing better than an expedition, and I confess I’ve explored less of Bellfield’s grounds than I should like.”
“Excellent,” Darcy said, inexplicably pleased by her ready acceptance. “We shall make a proper adventure of it.”
They reached the house and parted ways, Elizabeth’s glance back at him as she took her son speaking volumes he dared not interpret. Did she welcome his attention? After he had insulted her? Treated her as beneath him?
And yet, he could not bring himself to regret the impropriety, the entanglement that defied every principle of appropriate conduct he’d been taught. When in her company, he could no longer think of the social chasm between them or the shock and scandal dealt by proper society.
Elizabeth Bennet deserved better than abandonment by a man lacking the courage to acknowledge his own child. William deserved a father figure who would guide and protect him as he grew.
Whatever memories Darcy had lost, whatever past connections remained shrouded in fog, he could still choose his future path. He was falling irrevocably in love with Elizabeth Bennet, and had already surrendered his heart completely to her son.
He would choose Elizabeth and William and defy every social convention he had ever known. So help him, God.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE HEART REMEMBERS
Elizabeth adjustedWilliam’s small hat, straightening it for perhaps the third time in as many minutes. Her son squirmed beneath her attentions, eager to be off on the promised expedition. His excitement was understandable—being confined to the house yesterday afternoon after the corn dolly making had tested the limits of his toddler patience.
“Ma! Go!” he insisted, trying to wriggle away from her ministrations.
“One moment, my love,” Elizabeth replied, checking that his small coat was properly buttoned. “We must be properly attired for our adventure, mustn’t we?”
“I assure you, he appears perfectly equipped for the excursion,” Darcy’s voice came from the doorway, where he stood with Mary and Georgiana, ready for their walking expedition. “We are merely climbing a modest hill, not scaling the Alps.”
Darcy stood in the morning sunlight looking like every romantic heroine’s dream of masculine perfection, his dark hair catching golden highlights and his eyes holding that peculiar intensity she had come to associate with his growing attention to her person.
Elizabeth straightened, feeling oddly caught out in her fussing. “One learns to be prepared with children, Mr. Darcy. What begins as a modest hill often transforms into a perilous mountain in the imagination of a spirited boy.”
“A fair observation,” Darcy conceded with that slight softening around his eyes that she had come to recognize as amusement. “Though I suspect William would conquer either with equal enthusiasm.”
The man was dangerous to her peace of mind, Elizabeth acknowledged with rueful honesty. Not because he was attempting to seduce her—his behavior remained scrupulously proper—but because he was seducing her son with such unconscious skill that William had begun looking for him the moment he woke each morning.
As if to confirm this assessment, William broke free from Elizabeth’s grasp and charged toward Darcy with arms outstretched. “Da! Da! Up!”
