Page 42

"Yes." His expression changed. "Look at the intervals. After we resist, the next compelled scene comes sooner. Not every time, but often enough to worry me. It seems to be answering us."

"So the more we fight, the harder it pushes?"

"Exactly. Which means—" He paused. "Which means either we're breaking something, or we're supposed to be breaking something."

Elizabeth felt a chill that had nothing to do with her wet dress. "What do you mean?"

"What if our awareness isn't a glitch? What if it's intentional? What if we're supposed to test the boundaries?"

Before she could respond, the voice announced, "Her breath caught." They both froze.

"Did you just—" Darcy started.

"Breath catch. Yes. Involuntary." Elizabeth frowned. "Why now?"

Darcy turned back through the notebook still open on his knee. "I counted the occasions I could observe." He found the page and angled it away from a drip. "Sixty-seven percent were during private conversations in places like this. The rain and the setting may be a warning. I can't be sure."

"You made a pie chart of my breathing?"

"Of involuntary breathing incidents, yes."

Elizabeth looked at the divided circle. Her breathing occupied a larger share of his notebook than she would have wished. "It might be useful. I should prefer to know before it happens."

"I hoped you would think so." He straightened the notebook on his knee. "I cannot prevent them yet, but I may at least recognize the approach. That is preferable to being taken by surprise in front of my aunt."

Elizabeth took the notebook, studying his charts. "What about feelings? Did you chart those?"

Darcy was quiet for a moment. "That one's... complicated."

"Why?"

"Because I cannot tell which are scripted." He steadied the notebook in her hands and wiped a drop from its edge. "I have had it ready all day. Each time I heard someone on the path, I hoped it was you. That seems a poor thing to turn into a column."

Elizabeth kept the notebook open between them after she had finished reading. She could have handed it back and moved to the dry end of the bench. Instead she remained close enough to hold the page flat while he showed her the next entry.

"I wanted to hear what you had found," she said. "Not merely to discover the rules. I wanted to hear you explain them. I cannot prove what that means, but I know I was glad to see you waiting."

Darcy looked at her hand holding the page. "I'm glad you came."

"Even after I criticized the size of the paper?"

Darcy smiled, a real smile, not the brooding hero expression. "I've missed this. Talking to someone who understands."

"I've missed you," she said.

Darcy looked up from the page. Elizabeth nearly supplied a qualification about the weather. But he was smiling at her, and she found she would rather let him.

She returned the notebook to his knee, keeping one hand on the damp page until it lay flat.

Darcy shifted his coat so that a fresh trickle from its hem missed her shoes. It was a small improvement in their circumstances, and she thanked him for it.

They sat listening to the rain. Darcy left the notebook open on his knee without turning another page. Elizabeth relaxed beside him; she no longer had to think of something worth saying to make him remain. She could have spent the rest of the evening there.

Then the rain stopped. Completely. Instantly.

They stared at the suddenly clear sky.

"That's not how rain works," Elizabeth observed.