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“I gave him no guidance, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr Darcy squeezed her fingers gently. “I offered no advice. I gave him the truth and left the outcome in him. I hope... I pray I have undone the damage I caused.”

“You have.” Elizabeth turned towards the lake, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes as the tears came. “You have given her back her life. He will be back, I am certain! Thank you. Oh, thank you, Mr Darcy.”

Mr Darcy remained beside her without speaking, allowing her a moment to recover. She wiped her face with the handkerchief, feeling lighter, as if she could float away on the summer breeze.

“I am a terrible sight.” Elizabeth laughed, sniffing loudly, uncaring of her ruined complexion. “My aunt will think you threw me into the lake after all.”

Mr Darcy smiled, his harsh features softening. “Your aunt will think I am the most fortunate man in Derbyshire, Miss Elizabeth, for the honour of walking beside you.”

She blushed a fiery red and turned away, intending to resume their walk to the house, her mind reeling from the open declaration in his eyes, and she failed to see the gnarled root of a tree protruding across the path.

The toe of her boot hooked under the wood, and she pitched forward with a cry. Mr Darcy caught her gloved hand and steadied her before she could fall.

Elizabeth straightened, and he released her hand. “Are you injured?” he asked.

“Only my dignity.” She smoothed her skirts, her eyes dancing with amusement. “I suppose that settles the matter, sir. You, me, and Bates. We are all the same. A trio of menaces to the pedestrian world.”

The panic receded from Mr Darcy’s eyes. “I had hoped my record was better than Bates’s, Miss Elizabeth.”

“You sent my uncle into a lavender bush yesterday. I fear the evidence is against you.”

Mr Darcy conceded the point with a smile and offered his elbow once more.

Elizabeth took it, her fingers gripping his sleeve tightly. They walked the remainder of the path in silence, moving in harmony, lost within their own thoughts.

When they emerged from the trees and approached the terrace steps, they found Mrs Gardiner waiting anxiously by the stone balustrade, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders despite the heat of the day.

Aunt Madeline took in Elizabeth’s tear-stained face, her expression sharpening with concern.

“Lizzy!” Aunt Madeline hurried down the steps. “You have been gone an age! I was convinced Bates had accidentally pushed you into a ravine, or you had been mauled by a badger!”

Elizabeth caught Mr Darcy’s eye and burst into a fit of laughter.

Mr Darcy joined her, his chuckle ringing, leaving Aunt Madeline staring at them both as if they had lost their minds.

Chapter Eight: Green Baize and Flying Crystal

The Derbyshire weather, possessing a temperament as volatile as Caroline Bingley’s, turned foul shortly after luncheon. The few clouds that had drifted through the blue morning sky thickened into a bruised canopy of charcoal thunderheads. Rain attacked the estate, lashing on the glass of the windows in angry sheets.

Darcy stood in the library, staring out at the blurred, waterlogged expanse of the lawn. He should have been irritated. The storm had ruined his plans to invite Miss Elizabeth for a turn about the rose gardens—an invitation he had spent the better part of an hour mentally rehearsing.

Instead, a soaring euphoria hummed through his veins, rendering him immune to the dismal weather.

I kept your trust, sir.

Her words echoed in his mind. She did not despise him. When he told her about his confession to Bingley, she had turned towards the lake and wept with relief. He had wanted to comfort her, but she had soon found her smile again. He wanted to court her. He had to be charming and careful, for she was as spirited as any mare in his stables.

He sighed and lifted his right hand. He could still feel the phantom weight of her fingers on his sleeve.

A metallic squeal sounded from the passage, shattering his reverie.

Darcy turned just as Mrs Gardiner pushed her husband into the room, expertly navigating the Bath chair around the furniture. Georgiana followed, carrying both embroidery hoops, while Miss Elizabeth held a book.

“Are we disturbing you, Brother?” Georgiana asked.

“Not at all. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

“The sitting-room has grown too dim for needlework, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Gardiner announced, pausing beside an armchair near the hearth. “We thought we might impose on your library. Though I fear my husband is rapidly becoming a menace to the rugs.”