He found her beneath the trees near the house, moving slowly along the path. The afternoon was mild for late autumn, and the drawing-room windows stood open behind them, allowing the sounds of the household to drift across the lawn. A breeze stirred the ribbons of Elizabeth’s bonnet and lifted several dark curls from the nape of her neck. Darcy’s gaze caught upon the exposed curve of skin before he forced it back towards her face.
"I tell you, Mr Bennet, Jane cannot possibly sit near the window," Mrs Bennet was saying. "She has only just recovered."
"My dear, she is presently seated several yards from it."
"That is not the point. A draught may cross a room."
"Then we must hope it loses its way."
Elizabeth smiled without turning towards the house, and Darcy felt the answering smile rise before he could prevent it. He had come to recognise the particular expression she wore whenever her parents began one of their gentler quarrels. There was affection beneath her amusement and vexation, however much she pretended otherwise, and he found himself wanting to press his mouth to the small curve at the corner of her lips.
"You have escaped," he said as he came beside her.
"I withdrew before Mama could wrap Jane in another shawl. She is presently wearing two and looking very much like a particularly beautiful parcel."
"Bingley appears to find the effect pleasing."
"Mr Bingley would find her pleasing if she were wrapped in a hearthrug."
Darcy laughed and offered his arm. Elizabeth placed her hand upon his sleeve at once, her fingers settling just above his wrist. He had grown accustomed to her touch over the past few days, though familiarity had done nothing to lessen its effect. He felt the warmth of her palm through his coat and became immediately conscious of the softness of her body beside his as they began to walk.
During the days since their first kiss, the uncertainty between them had fallen away almost entirely. Elizabeth sought his company as readily as he sought hers, teased him without restraint and allowed him small liberties of touch that would once have unsettled him beyond reason. He had held her hand beneath the edge of a table, rested his palm against the small of her back as she passed through a doorway and once, when no one was looking, bent to press his lips against the bare inside of her wrist. She had gone very still beneath his mouth, then turned her hand and danced her fingertips along his jawline before walking away calmly as though she had not robbed him of every sensible thought.
They followed the edge of the lawn, close enough to the house that Mrs Bennet’s voice continued to reach them. "You may laugh, Mr Bennet, but I know what illness requires. Jane ought not to exert herself."
"Then perhaps Bingley should carry her to dinner."
"Do not be absurd. Though I daresay he would be very willing."
Elizabeth lowered her head, but Darcy saw her smile. A loose curl had escaped beneath the brim of her bonnet and stirred against her cheek. Before he could reconsider the liberty, he lifted his free hand and brushed it gently aside, his fingers grazing her skin before falling away.
Her eyes lifted to his. "You are becoming very familiar, Mr Darcy." The brightness in her expression told him he was in little danger. She moved closer as they continued, her shoulder brushing his arm and her hip occasionally meeting his through the layers of their clothes. Each accidental contact sent a pulse of warmth through him, and he suspected that at least some of them were not accidental at all.
"Mama has recovered entirely from the shock of Jane’s illness," Elizabeth said. "She is now enjoying her convalescence far more than Jane is."
"So I had gathered. I was rather hoping she might become the founding member of Bingley’s very own admiration society. It has been a great joy to see him so thoroughly pursued."
Elizabeth laughed, a bright peal that made his heart lurch. "You are a very poor friend, Mr Darcy."
They walked for several moments in companionable silence. Darcy was content merely to have her beside him. There was a peace in her company he had once believed could only belong to Pemberley, but now he understood that it belonged wherever Elizabeth was. The thought had followed him through the past several days, growing steadier with each hour. He no longer imagined bringing her into the life he had already built. He imagined the life they might create together, shaped by her warmth and wit.
From the house came another burst of Mrs Bennet’s voice, this time declaring that nobody had ever shown proper consideration for her nerves.
Elizabeth glanced back towards the open window. "You are very composed now, but Mama has not yet had you trapped at Longbourn for an entire evening."
"I believe I could survive it."
"She will speak without drawing breath, Papa will encourage her purely for his own amusement and you will be expected to answer every ridiculous question with perfect seriousness."
Elizabeth made a small sound of exasperation, though there was laughter in it. Darcy looked down at her and felt the last of his prepared words disappear. The evening light lay warm across her face, catching upon her lashes and the faint freckles scattered across her skin. Her hand still rested upon his arm, and he covered it with his own, threading his fingers slowly through hers.
"Those people are shortly to be my family," he said. "I suppose I ought to begin accustoming myself to them."
Elizabeth came to a halt so suddenly that Darcy was carried another pace before the gentle pull of her hand made him turn back towards her. She was staring at him with her lips parted, the full lower curve softened by surprise. He had seen her angrywith him and amused by him, but never before had he managed to silence her entirely, and the astonishment in her face was so lovely that he very nearly bent to kiss that expressive mouth before she had understood what he meant.
"Shortly?" she repeated, and the single word held enough wonder to make his heart turn over.
Darcy smiled and tightened his hold upon her hand. "So I very much hope." He turned fully towards her, bringing them face to face beneath the shelter of the trees. She stood close enough that the front of her gown brushed his coat when she breathed, and he could see the quickening pulse at the base of her throat.
