Miss Bingley did not immediately respond, her gaze fixed on the lingering figures of Darcy and Elizabeth. When she did rise, it was with stiff movements and an expression that made clear she felt such exertionbeneath her.
Elizabeth, watching the sisters go, turned to him. "You are fortunate, sir, to possess an estate like Pemberley. I have heard nothing but admiration for it."
He nodded slightly, his tone modest. "It is a responsibility I do not take lightly. The estate provides for many. My father instilled in me the importance of stewardship, not just ownership."
"A noble sentiment," Elizabeth said, genuinely impressed. "And do you enjoy your time there?"
"Very much. There is a lake—somewhat secluded—where my cousin and I used to swim in our youth. It lies past the western woods, where the trees part and the land slopes gently down. I remember summer mornings when the mist would still cling to the surface, and we would plunge in without hesitation."
Elizabeth laughed. "I wager you still do."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned a fraction closer. "I shall never admit it."
Their gazes locked. The teasing light in hers softened, and something warm and uncertain flickered behind his gaze. The air between them changed, charged now with a fragile, breathless anticipation. Elizabeth felt her breath catch as his head dipped ever so slightly towards hers. Her heart pounded, the world narrowing to the closeness oftheir gaze, the sudden nearness of his hand beside hers on the stone bench.
And then—
"Mr. Darcy!"
Miss Bingley's voice shattered the moment like glass on stone. She approached with rapid steps and a face flushed not from exertion but from something far sharper. Elizabeth jerked back, her cheeks burning. Darcy straightened, his expression a mask of polite indifference, though inwardly he cursed the interruption.
"We are thinking of returning to the house," Miss Bingley said, her voice brittle. "It grows cooler."
Before Darcy could reply, Bingley and Miss Bennet reappeared from the woods, their faces flushed with the brisk air and quiet delight.
"Oh! There you are," Bingley said cheerfully. "Darcy, you must come—we found the most curious thing among the trees. An old boundary marker perhaps, or some forgotten bit of statuary. Quite overgrown, but rather fascinating."
Miss Bingley frowned. "I am cold. I wish to return."
"The footmen can escort you," Bingley said easily. "It is not far."
Miss Bingley glanced at her sister, who rose and dusted off her skirts. "We shall returntogether then."
"Capital," Bingley said. "We will be just a few minutes more."
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, brushing leaves from her skirts, and Darcy followed. As they hurried after Bingley and Miss Bennet, Elizabeth let out a small, hysterical chuckle.
"Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy asked, one brow raised.
"Forgive me," she said, her voice still tinged with laughter. "It is just—Miss Bingley’s timing is exquisite, is it not?" She looked up at him, her eyes dancing despite her blush.
Darcy gave her a cheerful smile. The warmth of the one she offered in return lingered as they vanished into the woods together.
The grove narrowed as they followed Bingley and Miss Bennet along a narrow path veiled with moss and fallen leaves. The morning mist had lifted, but a cool hush remained under the canopy of late autumn branches. They emerged into a small clearing dappled with light, where the object in question stood, half-hidden in vines.
It was not a boundary marker at all, Darcy saw upon closer inspection. Weathered stonework shaped like an ornate basin sat atop a crumbling pedestal. The carved faces of cherubs—some worn almost featureless—peekedfrom beneath the creeping ivy.
"This," he said, brushing away some leaves, "was a fountain. A small one, likely intended for a garden feature. The plumbing is gone, of course, but see here—" he pointed to a hollow in the center. "This is where the water once flowed."
Elizabeth stepped forward, crouching near the base. Her gloved fingers traced the outline of an old flower bed. "Look here. The ground rises in a circle. And there are the remnants of planting rows. Someone tended this place once. These rose bushes are feral now, but they were placed with care." She stood and moved to another part of the garden.
"I have never seen this clearing before," she continued, her voice filled with quiet wonder. "And I have walked these woods for years."
Bingley stood back, surveying the space with renewed curiosity. "Do you think it is worth restoring? A garden like this, hidden away—it might be charming again."
Darcy hesitated. "That depends. If you intend to remain at Netherfield long, it might merit the effort."
Bingley looked at Miss Bennet, who smiled gently at his side. He took her hand without hesitation. "I cannot imagine a better place to be than here, in this moment."
