“I had no idea this track existed,” she murmured, glancing about her.
“’Tis a favourite.” Darcy offered his arm once more, and they walked on. “It leads towards one of Rosings’s groves. Our destination is a little glen halfway down the path. Richard and I made the path ourselves during our boyhood rambles, which explains its unevenness. It is rarely trodden now; we generally ride when we visit.”
“I am pleased you chose to share it with me. You know my fondness for walking. Tell me, what lies ahead? Is it shaded the entire way?”
“Aye, but our final destination is not.” He adjusted her hand on his arm, guiding her past a tangle of roots. “The glen itself lies open to the sky. I think you will find it most agreeable.”
Their talk meandered easily thereafter. Elizabeth spoke of her inheritance, explaining which ventures she had retained and which she had sold. “Netherfield Park is Elinor’s,” she continued. “She holds a share in the remaining assets as well. When she marries, she will be a very wealthy young lady. I have scarcely touched her fortune these many years.”
Darcy inclined his head, impressed. “You have managed it admirably.” Thoughtfully, he added, “It seems you have your affairs well in hand. Mr Wilkens appears to have an excellent head for business.”
“I pay him very well; and what is more, he does not baulk at a woman’s direction.” She gave him a knowing look. Then she paused in thought and bit her lip, a gesture that never failed to stir him. She looked vulnerable,but also angelic. Her voice faltered, and a slight flush touched her cheek as she blurted, “Can we construct the marriage articles so I maintain control of my fortune? ’Tis only… I never wish to feel insecure, nor to live beneath the shadow of dependence such as I once endured. The memory of having no certainty—no true security—has stayed with me. I do trust you, but it will take time to quiet the habit of fear.” Darcy knew it had cost her much to say it.
“Of course, my love—without question. It is a sound arrangement.” He covered her hand with his own. “Only promise that you will let me aid you when needed—and that you will advise me in turn with my estate and business affairs. I would not trespass upon your independence, yet I should like to share your cares and ease your burden.”
Her answering smile needed no words; its warmth spoke of gratitude and trust gained. Looking forwards, she gasped softly as the trees opened into a sunlit glen.
Darcy adored this place. A clear brook wound its way through the open ground, murmuring over smooth stones. Snowdrops, primroses, violets, and cowslips speckled the grass, whilst birds chirped and flitted between the branches, filling the air with the gentle music of nature. The whole scene was bathed in tranquillity and grace.
“Oh, ’tis perfect.” Her voice came in a soft breath as she released his arm and turned slowly, sweeping the glen with her sparkling eyes. Darcy chose a flat patch of turf and set down the basket. From its top he removed a rug and spread it before them. The fabric was thin but would keep the damp from them. As his beloved wandered amidst the wildflowers, he arranged their fare with satisfaction. The assortment pleased him; he would commend Brisby for executing his task with admirable care.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” Elizabeth sank to her knees beside him, smoothing her skirts as she settled.
He handed her a plate in silent acknowledgement, his heart lightened by what he perceived as joy dancing in her eyes. They ate companionably, laughter rising often between them. She seemed lighter than he had ever seen her—freed of the care that once shadowed her. Georgiana had shown the same transformation.She has truly done all she meant to do,he thought with deep contentment.
Elizabeth broke off mid-sentence, hand to chest, speaking with mock affront. “Are you attending to me, sir?” Her tease drew a smile he could not suppress as she plucked a morsel of pastry from her plate and tossed it at him. He bent aside just in time to let it miss, sailing just past his head. She giggled, and he gave her a playful scowl. He rose to his knees, amusement glinting in his eyes as he advanced towards her.
Still laughing, she sprang to her feet and darted away just as he reached to catch her. With a light step, she cast a look of challenge over her shoulder. “You shall never have your revenge!”
Darcy gained his feet, his smile now revealing his dimples as Elizabeth’s laughter echoed through the glen. The golden light of afternoon fell in soft shafts through the trees, setting a warm glow over the landscape. He gave a merry chase, his long stride closing the distance between them with ease.
Elizabeth, nimble and quick, kept a step ahead of him; her skirts swirled as she leapt over a fallen branch. “Too slow, Mr Darcy!” she called, mischief alive in her eyes.
Reaching the brook, she turned to face him, breath coming quick and uneven, indecision playing on her countenance as she assessed the narrow stream. When he stopped a few paces away, she stooped suddenly and sent a spray of water in his direction.
The cool drops struck his face and coat, and he drew a sharp breath at the chill and unexpected assault. “Elizabeth!” His air took on mock gravity as he shook his sleeves. “That was a rash declaration of war, you minx.”
She only laughed and flung another handful; the droplets caught the sun like tiny jewels. When he lunged forward, she skipped back with a small yelp, her boots splashing into the shallows.
“Surely a gentleman would not retaliate against a lady!” she cried, half laughing, half breathless.
“A gentleman, perhaps,” he countered, “but you have made me into something far less noble.”
Her laughter pealed out once more—but it was cut short when he leapt forward. She darted to the side and fled, skirts lifted, racing up the glen, whilst he pursued at an easy pace, allowing her to think herself safe. Their mingled laughter drifted through the trees like music on the breeze.
Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he caught her hand and drew her to a halt, whirling her to face him. An arm went round her waist as she stumbled against him, breathless and flushed.
For a moment, they stood close, the world narrowing to the space between them. Her hands rested lightly on his chest, and he felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her touch. Their eyes met—hers bright with wonder, his dark with longing.
Elizabeth’s smile softened, her breath warm against his cheek. Darcy lifted a hand and brushed back a damp curl that clung to her temple; his fingers brushing her skin and lingering as though reluctant to leave. He could resist no longer. He bent nearer, hesitating, his breath mingling with hers.
Their lips met in a kiss as gentle as the air that stirred the leaves—tender, and full of promise rather than claim. It was soft and warm, and achingly sweet—the meeting of two hearts long withheld, simple and utterly right.
When they parted, she gazed up at him, eyes shining with mirth and affection. “For a man who was so determined upon revenge, you appear remarkably satisfied with the present outcome.”
Darcy let out a low chuckle, his brow resting against hers. “’Tis a victory I shall never repent. Do you know how long I have wished to kiss you?”
She raised a hand to his cheek. “I cannot guess, though I suspect it has been for some time. I am sorry it took longer for me to wish the same—but now I cannot conceive of life without you. You, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, are the very man I would have chosen first, had I been given the choice. I cannot wholly regret the path that led me here, for it changed many lives for the better. Likewise, I must rejoice that we have been granted this chance at happiness. You are everything to me, Fitzwilliam, and I love you dearly.”
