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The world seemed to fade into an indistinct blur, leaving only the space between them, a distance she made no move to preserve as her breath caught in anticipation. His lips traced a path from her temple to her cheek, and finally to the corner of her mouth, each touch unhurried. A quiet sound of contentment escaped her.

His arms went around her again, pulling her flush against him, and his next kiss was deeper. Elizabeth melted against him, her own arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers threading through the soft hair at his nape.

The candle flames around them seemed to flare in response, their light bathing them in a warm glow. For a timeless moment, there was nothing but the sweetness of his lips, the strength of his arms, the steady beat of his heart against hers, and the magic they had ignited together.

Then, with an effort that seemed to require every bit of his self-command, he bid her a tender good night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The weak sunlight did little to dispel the chill in the courtyard, but Elizabeth felt a warmth radiating from within that had nothing to do with the sun or the heavy wool of her travelling cloak. The memory of the previous night – the shared vulnerability, the unexpected magic of the candles – still hummed beneath her skin.

She stood beside Darcy as he gave quiet instructions to a groom regarding the harnessing of the horses for their journey north.

The air between them, once so often charged with antagonism, now held a different kind of tension – a delicate, entirely wonderful uncertainty of a path newly entered.

Just as Darcy was concluding his discussion, seemingly satisfied with the arrangements, a hesitant footstep made them both look up. Georgiana stood at the entrance to the courtyard, a travelling cloak wrapped snugly around her, and a small valise in hand.

The change in her appearance since her arrival at Pemberley was remarkable. Though still slender, the fragility was gone,replaced by a healthier, if still delicate, bloom in her cheeks. Her blue eyes, though holding a hint of nervous apprehension, now shone with resolve.

Darcy, however, seemed to see none of the improvement, only the audacity of her presence.

“Georgiana?” he said, his voice sharp, almost harsh, the gentleness of the previous night seemingly forgotten in this new and unwelcome confrontation. “What is the meaning of this?”

Georgiana visibly flinched at his tone, but she held her ground, her chin lifting with a courage Elizabeth had not previously witnessed in her. “I am going to Newcastle, Fitzwilliam.”

“You most certainly are not,” he replied, in a clipped tone. “The arrangements have already been made. You are not included in them. It is neither possible, nor is it advisable, given your current state of health.”

But before Georgiana could offer a protest, or Elizabeth could find the words to intervene, another, considerably more self-assured voice, broke the tense silence.

“Darcy! Well met, on such a fine morning!” Colonel Fitzwilliam sauntered into the courtyard, dressed for travel himself, his heavy coat slung casually over one arm. He surveyed the scene – Darcy’s rigid posture, Georgiana’s determined, if nervous, stance – with an air of cheerful innocence. “I was just about to enquire if our carriage was ready. Georgiana and I are hoping for an early start on our journey back to Newcastle. The roads, I hear, are rather lamentable, and one wishes to make good time before the light fails.”

Darcy stared at his cousin, who met his glower with an unruffled smile. “You appear to be under some misapprehension. This ismycarriage, being prepared for my journey to Newcastle. With Mrs Darcy.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s smile did not falter; if anything, it widened, a picture of guileless affability. “Ah, is it indeed? My apologies, cousin. Yet it is a most fortunate coincidence, then, that our destinations align so perfectly. We would, of course, be pleased to join you in yours.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “This is not a matter for levity, Richard,” he said, his voice soft, yet carrying an unmistakable edge of steel. “Georgiana is not undertaking this journey. Andyoumost certainly are not making use of my carriages, this one or any other, for any such ill-considered purpose.”

It was Georgiana then, who surprised them all. Her earlier timidity seemed to recede, replaced by a spark of the Darcy spirit Elizabeth was beginning to recognise.

“Fitzwilliam, I must return to Newcastle,” she stated, her voice now holding a glint of defiance. “My place is there.”

Colour rose high and fast on Darcy’s face. “Back tohim, Georgiana? Your duty lies with him? After the circumstances under which you arrived at Pemberley’s door? You would willingly return to that…to that life?”

“I will return tomylife,” she said, her face also flushing with emotion, “With my husband, and my friends, in Newcastle. My place is there, and I am recovered enough now to offer what healing I can.”

“You will remain at Pemberley,” Darcy said, his voice quiet but unyielding, “where you can recover fully and be safe. I cannot permit you to undertake such a perilous journey, especially to rejoin him.”

Georgiana drew herself up, a trace of her brother’s own proud obstinacy in her gaze. “If you will not permit me passage in your carriage, then I shall make my own arrangements. I will travel post, if necessary. But Iwillreturn to Newcastle. You cannot — ”

Her impassioned declaration was cut short by a boy, running across to them with haste. “Mr Darcy, sir,” he said, skittering to a stop, “Mr Brooks sent me, sir, says there’s an urgent summons from the Arcane Office for you.”

A muscle twitched almost invisibly beside Darcy’s eye. He closed his eyes for a brief instant, his head tilting back ever so slightly, a silent, almost desperate appeal to some unseen, unhearing power for deliverance from this relentless cascade of complications.

When he opened his eyes, he said, in a very measured tone, “Before I attend to this interruption, I wish to be perfectly clear on the point. There is no conceivable circumstance under which my carriage will be employed by any but its intended occupants — myself and Mrs Darcy. I will give instructions as such to my driver. Now pray excuse me.” With a curt nod that included no one in particular, he spun on his heel and strode away.

Elizabeth hesitated for a few seconds. This summons from the Lord Magister, coming at such a moment, could not be ignored. With a quick, almost apologetic glance towards Georgiana and a silent, imploring look at Colonel Fitzwilliam to not do anything foolish, she gathered her skirts and hurried after Darcy.

She caught up to him as he entered the great house, his steps long and purposeful. “Darcy,” she began.