“’Tis your name, is it not?”
“It is, though I am little in the habit of answering to it. You do not like ‘Darcy?’”
“I do—very much, as it happens. But you are everybody’s ‘Darcy.’ I have read the adieu in your letter every day since you gave it to me. I am afraid you cannot be aught else now but my Fitzwilliam.”
Clearly moved, he lifted her hand to his lips. “God, I love you, woman.”
They walked on, Elizabeth with a lightness in her heart she had begun to fear forever lost. As they often did, her emotions bubbled over into action, and she reached up to snatch a leaf from the overhanging canopy—which the tree refused to yield. The resulting flick of the branch showered them both with debris from on high. She yelped in surprise and hopped backwards, laughing as she brushedbits of foliage from her dress. Turning with an apology on her lips, she was utterly undone to discover the illustrious Mr Darcy, bespattered with flora, now reaching to pluck a leaf from the canopy.
“You cannot know the pleasure I find in pleasing you,” he said as he presented her with it. “I had long despaired of ever having the privilege.”
“How fortunate for me that your happiness is dependent upon my own,” she replied, accepting it.
He pointed to the leaf. “Had I known pleasing you was so easily done, I should have given you a tree the day we met.”
Oh, how she adored his unexpected teasing! “Do you recall,” she said, turning them back to the path, “when I said at Netherfield there is something new to be observed in people forever?”
“I do.”
“That is what falling in love with you has been like. With every mention of you, every memory or thought, I have discovered more to love.”
“Such as?”
“Such as learning it was you who saw to Mr Wickham’s arrest.”
He instantly stiffened. “Had I but known it was you he hurt, I would have come directly, but I discovered it only yesterday and then…you…it was?—”
“Put it from your mind,” she said softly. “I am yours now.”
He exhaled heavily. “Thank God for that.”
At Elizabeth’s request, Darcy stumbled through an explanation of the events that had led him to believe she had died. It was evident she found the entire situation diverting but, she checked her laugh.
“Would that I had known your opinion of me was so soon improved,” he said. “I would have returned in an instant.”
“I daresay you saved yourself considerable effort by staying away. I was not consciously in love with you when I spoke to Mr Wrenshaw, or when I asked Mr Bingley to send my apologies. But I have since courted myself quite effectively on your behalf with memories and hopes and dreams.”
Darcy smiled but begged that she allow him to take up the office of lover henceforth. Her mumbled, breathless acquiescence pleased himvery well indeed. God, but she was beautiful! Again and again, he looked at her, each time falling further under her spell. Watching her thus, he soon noticed when her pace slowed, and her head rested more heavily against his arm. “Are you well?”
“My head is beginning to ache a little. Perhaps I have walked too far today.”
“Forgive me, I did not think.” Ignoring her protests, Darcy led her to the low stone wall bordering the lane, spread his coat atop it, and insisted she sit down to rest. For all her bravado, she sank heavily onto the improvised seat and closed her eyes.
He lowered himself to sit next to her and tenderly nudged her bonnet and curls aside that he might examine her injury more closely. It was an ugly wound, still somewhat swollen and yellowing at the edges. His chest tightened painfully at the sight. He cupped her face and placed a feather-light kiss upon her cheek.
She let out a shuddering breath. “How I wished you were there.”
His arms were about her instantly, lifting her in one deft move onto his lap. “I shall never forgive myself for not being, but I am here now and shall never allow anybody to hurt you again.”
She left him in no doubt of her gratitude but, after that, refused to dwell on the matter. Instead, they employed their time discussing every detail of each other’s lives since Easter. She remained in his lap while they talked, he tracing patterns on her lower back with his right hand, she toying with the fingers of his left. In that attitude, they remained until she enquired about the scar on his cheek. He gave explanation, she kissed it, he kissed her, and she proceeded to prove she had lost none of her talent for discerning his every weakness. He was forced to abandon the arrangement before he expressed more adoration than the already over-stretched bounds of decency allowed.
“Are you recovered enough to return? I have a great inclination to speak with your father.”
She assured him she was, and they set off in the direction of Longbourn.
“Does it give you much pain?”
“Not very often now. Aside from the odd headache and a little giddiness and this ghastly bruise, I am perfectly well.”
