Page 9 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“You don’t waste any time.”

“I spent the night fearing you might wake up and find another reason to disapprove of me.”

“Only one?”

“I’m trying to stay optimistic.”

She laughed, and I felt a tension ease in my chest.

“No,” she said at last. “I haven’t regretted it. I’ve only thought a great deal.”

“May I ask what about?”

“About Pemberley. About your sister. About how two people who have often quarreled can learn to live under the same roof without driving the servants to despair.”

“They’ll be generously paid.”

She gave me a mischievous look.

“That’s a very Darcy solution.”

“You’ll be free to propose something better.”

We reached a muddy stretch. I offered her my hand. She accepted after a brief hesitation. This time, her bare fingers rested in mine—she had removed her gloves to tie her bonnet ribbons more securely.

The contact made me lose my train of thought.

Her skin was cool. Her hand was smaller than mine, but her grip was firm. I helped her across the rut and held her a moment too long when her foot slipped.

She ended up close to me, close enough that I could feel her breath. Her eyes dropped to my mouth. I didn’t move.

She stepped back first.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

My voice was hoarse.

We resumed our walk, paying exaggerated attention to the landscape.

“You wanted to write to my father,” she said.

“I’ll do so today, if you give me his address and your permission to formally request his consent.”

“Write to him. I’ll send my own letter.”

“Do you wish me to mention… the difficulty you spoke of?”

She stiffened.

“No. I don’t yet know all that he’s willing to reveal.”

I bowed.

“I won’t speak of it.”

Her gaze sought mine, as if my lack of questions surprised her.