She came to a halt and turned towards him, her mouth agape. “You did not tell him?—”
“I did.”
“About...your sister?”
He nodded.
“Sir.” She breathed the word, her eyes round and astonished. “I cannot believe—what made you do such a thing?”
“You,” he said. “You alone. Yes, there is part of me that is ashamed I had not done it before—countless other young women have undoubtedly fallen prey to him in consequence of my silence. But I acted for the sake of removing the worry from your heart. I could not allow you to suffer when I had the means to fix it.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked at the ground; she was pleased, and he was pleased with himself for having occasioned her pleasure.If you would marry me, he told her silently,I would see to it that you never had any cause to worry ever again.
“I thank you,” she said finally, “even if I know my sister will not. Who knows what might have happened to her there so far away from her family?”
“Perhaps nothing,” he said, offering her his arm once more.
“Or perhaps everything,” she concluded with a delicate shudder. “She is too poor to marry, but there is too much else to consider... But never mind any of that. She will be safe at Longbourn, thanks to you.”
They rambledabout the gardens for quite some time—Elizabeth hardly knew how long. She had never been overly fond of roses, but it seemed Mr Darcy’s mother had been an enthusiast, and seeing Netherfield’s roses provoked a great many memories within him.
“What is your favourite flower?” he asked her as they strolled towards the hedge maze.
“A flower I saw only once,” she admitted. “And in a glass house no less—a camellia.”
“A camellia? I do not think I have ever seen one. What did you like about it?”
“If I am being honest,” she said with pursed lips, “it is entirely likely that I admire it just because it is unusual. Ask ten English ladies what flowers they like best and six will reply they like roses, another three will say lilies, and the last will surprise us with gardenia or orange blossom.”
“So you will not be impressed by Pemberley’s roses,” he said in a musing tone. “Then I shall write, directly, to the head gardener and tell him to install as many camellias as he can.”
She had no idea what to say to that. She stopped on the path and turned so that she was facing him with the questions of her heart looming large between them. “Camellias at Pemberley?”
He too stopped and turned towards her, speaking in an intimate tone. “Consider it my pledge to you. Whatever you wish for, if it is within my power to give it to you, then I shall. Large,small, everything in between. You would want for nothing, Elizabeth.”
She looked down between them, still searching her mind for the best reply to what was almost another proposal.
“I do not mean to declare myself. Not yet, not in this way,” he continued. “But if there is no hope, I pray you would tell me that. Do not leave me to deceive myself, I beg you.”
Of its own accord, Elizabeth’s hand rose, going to land upon the lapel of his jacket. He reached up immediately and covered it with his own hand and so they stood, suspended in a moment of great feeling. Her heart was throbbing painfully, so loud she was certain he could hear it. Her voice emerged just barely above a whisper as she said, “It is not hopeless.”
His breath emerged in a sound between a groan and a sigh. He lifted their hands from his lapel, pressing a kiss onto her gloved palm.
It was easy then to rise on her toes, to angle her face in the direction that would be best to receive his kiss. His eyes widened and seemed to question her—but then he closed them, all the better, it seemed, for his lips to claim hers.
His lips were soft and shockingly warm, but she had little time to think anything of that before a strident voice rang out.
“You! Howdareyou!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A cold dash of icy fear immediately recalled Elizabeth to sensibility. She leapt backwards from Mr Darcy, then turned to see her youngest sister standing at some distance away from them on the path. Lydia’s face was nearly purple with rage as she advanced towards them, glaring at Mr Darcy.
“You!” she shrieked again.
“Lydia.” Elizabeth hastened to intervene, thinking how odd it was to have Lydia, of all people, concerned for a stolen kiss among the hedges. “It is not what it seems, and if you will come with me?—”
Lydia pushed by her, very nearly flying at Mr Darcy with skirts and ribbon and violent indignation swirling about her. “Hateful, odious man!”
