Darcy said nothing but felt a slow warmth build in his chest as he glanced at Elizabeth. She knelt beside theruined fountain, a lock of hair brushing her cheek, her expression alive with interest and discovery. He could not help but wonder if, like this forgotten corner of the woods, something quietly beautiful was being unearthed between them, slowly taking root in the most unexpected soil.
A breeze stirred the fallen leaves around them, carrying the scent of damp earth and faded roses. Elizabeth stood again, brushing her skirts, and looked around with the air of someone taking in a hidden treasure.
"What do you suppose this place was used for?" she asked, her gaze still roaming. "A private retreat? A lover’s meeting spot? Or perhaps a lady’s bower for reading and quiet?"
"It may have served all those purposes," Darcy replied. "I agree with your conjecture that the remnants suggest it was once carefully tended. Someone valued it."
Elizabeth smiled, eyes sparkling. "Then let us be glad you found it again, Mr. Bingley. Perhaps it is not yet done being useful."
As they stood in companionable silence, a flock of birds burst from the nearby trees, their wings flapping against the quiet. Darcy turned towards the sun filtering through the branches and let the peace of the moment settle deep into his bones. Everything felt softer here—the light, the voices, the emotions unspoken yet keenly felt.
And for once, he did not fight it. Nor did he wish to do anything of the sort. In fact, Darcy was very certain he wished to pursue Elizabeth in hopes of making her his wife.
Chapter Sixteen
November 14, 1811
Netherfield Park
Elizabeth
Elizabethawokethenextmorning with the memory of the previous day’s events lingering like the last golden rays of sunset. The image of Mr. Darcy leaning close, his voice low with amusement, and the gentle way their eyes had met before Miss Bingley’s voice shattered the moment—it played over and over in her mind. Her face warmed just recalling it. That they had nearly kissed was something both thrilling and startling, and though they had spoken little after their return, the memory remained sharp and bright, like a flame catching at the edges of her thoughts.
Feeling an unusual flutter of anticipation, Elizabeth rose and prepared for a walk, hoping she might encounter Mr.Darcy again. She chose a slightly finer gown than the day before, still practical for walking, but made of a soft gray wool with delicate blue sprigs embroidered along the hem and sleeves. She styled her hair herself, parting it neatly and securing the dark curls in a twist at the nape of her neck, with a few loose tendrils to soften the effect. A deep blue spencer, her warmest, completed the ensemble along with sturdy walking boots and a simple bonnet.
When she reached the base of the stairs, Mrs. Nicholls met her with a warm smile and another neat bundle wrapped in cloth.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. Liza tells me you enjoyed your little breakfast yesterday, so we have prepared another. There are a few honeyed scones and some dried currants today. The air is quite brisk, so do not stay out too long.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Nicholls. It was a delight yesterday, and I have no doubt today’s offering will be just as welcome.”
Elizabeth made her way out through the side entrance and into the gardens. A thin veil of mist hovered over the lawns, and the gravel paths glittered faintly with dew. The air was sharp and fresh, the kind that made one’s cheeks rosy and breath visible in short puffs. The formal gardens lay quiet and neat, their geometric patternstrimmed for the colder season. Statues and urns stood sentinel among bare hedges and clipped boxwood, and the last of the autumn roses hung their heads beneath the weight of frost.
She was halfway down a winding path lined with yews when she heard footsteps approaching from the other side. Mr. Darcy emerged from the shadows, his tall figure distinct in a dark coat and hat.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” he said with a bow.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” she replied with a smile. Her heart fluttered again, but she managed to keep her tone light. “It seems we are creatures of similar habits.”
“Indeed. I find early mornings the best time for reflection—and occasionally, pleasant company.”
They had only just begun to walk side by side when another voice interrupted.
“Ah! There you are!” came Miss Bingley’s breathless cry. She rounded a hedge, looking flushed and flustered. “What an invigorating morning it is! I find the bracing air does wonders for the complexion, do you not agree?”
Elizabeth turned to greet her, noting with concealed amusement that Miss Bingley’s hair was slightly askew beneath her bonnet and her gloves mismatched. Her walking gown, pale silk with little protection from the elements, suggested she had dressed in haste.
“A fine morning, indeed,” Elizabeth said politely. She could not help but wonder if Miss Bingley had ever dressed without the aid of her maid.
Mr. Darcy offered the lady a brief nod, but his eyes flicked towards Elizabeth again, as if to silently acknowledge the awkwardness of the interruption. As the three continued down the path, Elizabeth felt a mixture of speculation and trepidation. Miss Bingley’s sudden interest in morning walks did not bode well for quiet conversation, but she could not help feeling secretly pleased—Mr. Darcy had chosen to walk with her. That was a truth Miss Bingley would not easily ignore.
As they walked, Miss Bingley launched into an endless recitation of mutual acquaintances in Town, pausing to remark—sweetly—that Elizabeth must find it difficult not to know anyone of the first circles. Mr. Darcy interjected, polite but firm, that Miss Elizabeth’s acquaintance was more than sufficient, and her company exceedingly agreeable.
They were spared further barbs when a small stray cat emerged from the hedge, winding itself around Elizabeth’s ankles. Miss Bingley recoiled, declaring cats vile creatures that made her sneeze. At her request, Elizabeth scooped up the animal, cradling it with a smile. Mr. Darcy offered to accompany her to the stable, where perhapsanother cat could keep it company. Miss Bingley, sneezing violently, waved them away.
When out of earshot, Mr. Darcy said, “I ought not to find amusement in Miss Bingley’s situation, but I cannot help it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Nor can I. I only wonder at her early rising.”
