Mr. Bennet regarded them both with evident satisfaction. “Excellent. Fresh air improves every conversation.”
Jane, who now suspected her father’s design, allowed herself the smallest smile as she followed him from the room.
Mrs. Bennet, though still uncertain whether this arrangement was entirely proper, comforted herself with the reflection that the garden path could indeed be seen from several windows.
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy moved toward the door together. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Darcy said, in a lower voice, “I believe I must thank your father.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “I believe you must.”
They stepped out into the hall, where the cooler air from the open door carried with it the faint scent of damp earth.
Elizabeth paused beside the small table where cloaks and gloves had been laid earlier that morning. For the first time since leaving the parlour, she became fully conscious that she was alone with him.
Darcy stood a little behind her, waiting.
Elizabeth reached for her gloves. They slipped once from her fingers before she managed to take them up properly.
She told herself she was being absurd.
Yet when she attempted to draw the first glove over her hand, her fingers refused their usual obedience. The leather caught awkwardly, and the small buttons at the wrist seemed suddenly determined not to cooperate.
Elizabeth tried again.
The second button was worse. Her hands, to her great annoyance, were not steady.
Before she could attempt it a third time, Darcy stepped closer.
“Allow me.”
The words were quiet.
Elizabeth looked up in surprise, but before she could protest, he had gently taken her hand.
She could not move.
Darcy’s fingers were careful and precise as he fastened the small button at her wrist. The task required only a moment, yet it seemed to Elizabeth far longer.
Neither of them spoke.
When he finished, he released her hand at once.
Elizabeth drew a small breath. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Darcy inclined his head. “You are welcome.”
Then he opened the door for her fully, and they stepped out together into the garden.
***
The late-morning air was cool, and the clouds gathered slowly overhead without yet committing to rain. The paths of Longbourn’s modest garden stretched before them in quiet order, bordered by winter shrubs and the last stubborn leaves clinging to their branches.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Behind them, the door closed softly, shutting away the murmur of the household.
Elizabeth felt suddenly very aware of the silence. She walked beside Mr. Darcy along the gravel path, the faint crunch beneath their steps sounding far louder than usual.
