“Has he lost much blood?” she asked the room behind her.

“Enough, Mrs. Tournier,” Darcy answered. “I have already sent for the apothecary.”

“Good, then you might also get these men to gently remove the rest of his clothing before you order them out of my way, then inspect him yourself for any further wounds on the rest of his body.”

She pushed Lizzy out of the door and then turned to face the wall herself, expecting her orders to be carried out promptly. It was not that she was squeamish about such things that she did this, but she thought her nephew deserved to have his dignity preserved if it was within her power to do it.

Her bidding carried out, Darcy then sent his men out of the room with a nod towards the door when they looked to him for further instructions. He noted Elizabeth came back in immediately upon their departure.

“He was hit on the head as well,” he reported to Mrs. Tournier as she continued to settle her unconscious nephew as comfortably as possible.

She reached up to feel gently around his scalp with her fingertips to guage how serious the hit had been and felt a small bump there.

“Tell me exactly what happened. How was he hurt and with what weapon?”

As Darcy began his narration, Tidwell’s face, full of hate as he was taken under arrest on the shore, flashed briefly in his memory. He blinked it away, knowing it was something to spare them from, and proceeded to relay what had happened, leaving in only the broad details involving Vian’s actions on behalf of others but leaving out things he felt would only cause the ladies more distress. He also omitted his part in saving Vian from the explosion, feeling it an unnecessary detail. He thought that if Vian did not survive, at least his family would know of his final moments. It was what the man would wish. It was what he himself would want if he were lying there now, some sort of resolution for his family.

His eyes sought Elizabeth’s many times during the telling as he heard her soft intake of breath in various places in his narration. He longed to hold her and give comfort to them both, but neither was in a position to do such a thing.

Arabella noted the looks passing between the two and grew angry with them both. The sight of Lizzy embracing the unscathed Mr. Darcy at the door while they carried her incapacitated nephew up the stairs, combined with their exchanging wistful and partial looks, only galled her in her helpless frustration at not being able to do anything more to help Maurice. She sent Lizzy off to see what was taking Holly so long with the water, the very sight of her now more annoying than soothing to her senses.

When the apothecary had arrived at last, he examined Vian and then sent for two of Darcy’s men to hold his patient down while he removed the lead musket ball, sending everyone else out of the room.

Arabella sat holding her daughter for a while, helping to calm her fears. Holly’s shaking and fussing were at least one thing that was within her power to do something about. When her daughter finally seemed calm enough to send off to bed, Arabella quelled her protests by patiently explaining to her that it was essential she rest while she could, for her help would be much in demand later. She sent Lizzy off to see after her, knowing full well that the girl would probably return as soon as Holly was tucked away.

Left alone with Mr. Darcy, she eyed him for a while, her anger and indignation at him building along with her fears for her nephew. When she could hold her tongue no longer, she finally spoke.

“I thank you for bringing Monsieur Vian home, Mr. Darcy. I know you wish to remain to discover how the man who saved your life will fare, but you must be tired after your long travels and trials this day. Perhaps you might like to return to Clyne and await word there?”

“I will stay for a while longer, thank you, at least until the apothecary makes his final report.”

She nodded at this, but was far from finished.

“Mr. Darcy, I cannot condone my niece’s behaviour upon your arrival here this night, and I must assume such actions, seemingly encouraged by you, can only cause more harm than good in the long run. I must insist, after you receive the report you wait for, that you leave this house and my niece to their own devices from now on.”

Darcy started at her words. “Madam, I assure you that my intentions regarding Miss Bennet are honourable…”

“Perhaps they are, Mr. Darcy, but it does not follow that they are in accordance with the wishes of her family. Lizzy is young and does not know what is good or right for herself, and do not forget that she is under my care at the moment. You are not entitled to reveal your intentions to a girl whose father might not approve of them.”

“Nonsense! She is almost one and twenty, and my name and character are irreproachable.”

“I know what I know, Mr. Darcy, and I will brook no further discussion about the matter while my nephew lies unconscious under my roof. Is that clear?”

She watched him hesitate for only a brief moment, appearing to struggle with his answer, before he said, “It is quite clear that in your worried state you will not entertain such a conversation, and I will leave it for now, being well aware of your feelings regarding my person, Mrs. Tournier. However, I hope to change your perception in the future.”

“Well, Mr. Darcy, they say that hope springs eternal. Still, I thank you very kindly for your services, but I think they are no longer required. We can always send word to you of the apothecary’s report if you would like.”

Darcy’s eyes locked onto hers, his look one of determination. “I will stay for a while longer. There might be more I can do.”

“Very well, but I think you will see we have things well in hand. I am a capable woman.” She eyed him coldly when she noted he now directed his gaze past her, and added, “…and I know how to take care of my own.”

“I am certain no one questions that, Aunt Tournier.”

Elizabeth had spoken softly from the doorway before coming the rest of the way into the room. She chose a chair on the same side as Darcy’s, opposite from where her aunt now sat.

“I have settled Holly into bed. She was so exhausted from her fright and worries; she fell almost immediately to sleep.”

“Which is where you should be as well, my dear…”

She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Mr. Smythe entering the room. With a gesture, she motioned for him to take a seat beside her.

“How is my nephew?”

“I managed to remove the musket ball, but it was lodged rather deeply and the procedure was not easy on him.”

“Is he awake? Has he spoken?” Arabella asked nervously.

“He sleeps now. He spoke a few unintelligible words. He also called for someone named Elizabeth several times. Would that be his wife?”

The silence in the room was palpable. Mrs. Tournier broke it, but her anger was evident as she tried to keep it in check. “He is not married. Will he live, Mr. Smythe?”

“I cannot say for certain. If he does not suffer serious infection he will. He is strong, but I can make no false promises to you.” He stood. “It is late, Mrs. Tournier. I will return in the morning to examine him, but someone should stay with him in case he awakens. He is feverish, so keep him cool with compresses to his head and bathe him with cool water as well if he seems to become too hot. Make sure he does not do damage to himself with any writhing about he might do in his delirious state. I managed to stop the bleeding, but we do not want it to begin again if he should reopen the wound I so carefully stitched. He has lost a lot of blood already.”

With those instructions, he made his way out, leaving the three of them staring uncomfortably at each other until Mrs. Tournier decidedly stood up, forcing Mr. Darcy to follow suit.

“Mr. Darcy, I assume this was the news you were waiting for. I thank you once again for bringing my nephew home. We will send word tomorrow to further calm your conscience.”

Darcy nodded to her, and with one partial look at Elizabeth, he exited the room.

“Well, Lizzy, it seems your wide-eyed alertness will come in handy. In fact, you should go and make a pot of tea for us. We shall watch over our patient together.”

Darcy knocked on the ceiling of his carriage with his cane, giving the signal to move on. He sank into the seat and leaned his head back.

This woman was insufferable. And who did she think she was anyway? The fact that Elizabeth was her guest gave her no right to intrude upon her privacy, influence her life decisions, or to attempt to marry her off to the woman’s nephew against her will. Mrs. Tournier’s objections about him were based on the sole fact that he had once refused to flatter her opinion in a most ridiculous manner. Had he been as evasive and careless in his answers as Brougham was she would now be eating out of his hand.

This entire situation was even more absurd when one considered that, apart from behaving in a most rude and annoying manner for the time being, she could do nothing to prevent his marriage to Elizabeth. It was unlikely that even Mr. Bennet could, since Elizabeth’s twenty-first birthday would come within months.

All the woman was gaining was a sick satisfaction for having insulted him in a way no one ever had.

He sighed. Having vented his anger he turned his attention to resolutions of more substance. It had been almost a week since he had sent his instructions to Hinchcliffe. If the express messenger to Derby was fast, his solicitor’s travel uneventful and immediate, and the documents prepared in one day, Darcy could expect him any day. But would he be so lucky as to have him arrive in less than ten days? He dearly wished for it, especially under the current circumstances.

When Arabella entered Vian’s room he was feebly attempting to reach out with his uninjured arm, calling for Elizabeth in his delirium. She went to him, her heart aching, and took his hand in hers. She sat there, squeezing it gently, and let a few tears fall before quickly wiping them away, wondering if Lizzy would have taken it to comfort him if she had entered the room first.

She was full of anger: anger at Lizzy for running into Mr. Darcy’s arms and showing no concern for the wounded man who loved her, anger at Mr. Darcy for suggesting, after fondling the practically naked girl in the doorway, that he planned to propose, anger that such an undeserving man had stolen her niece away from Vian, and that Lizzy was being so stupid as to blindly allow it.

He was a thief! That was what he was. Like a hunter relishing the chase, his target all the more enticing when there was competition for the quarry – competition that Vian’s valid interest had spurred in the man. But just like any hunter, once the game was captured his interest would surely have waned. Apparently he had not yet bagged his prey – clearly Lizzy had not given in to his desires – or he would not still be sniffing about, ready to take her at any price in order to be the champion. She almost wished the girl had been so foolish, but then grew even angrier with herself for having such a thought regarding her niece, but she could not help thinking he would have left soon after if she had.

Mr. Darcy fancied himself an honourable man though. Once he fully committed himself he would not turn back, and it seemed now that he intended to take that final step. She wondered if he had proposed already. She thought not, since he had said he hoped to change her perception of himself in future, but it mattered not. He would avoid scandal at all costs regarding the woman he intended to marry, so he would speak to her father before making it public. That meant that there was still a chance to stop this foolishness before it went too far.

Vian stirred, his legs restlessly moving about, as if he were on some journey in his dreams.

“Wait… Let me explain,” he murmured.

“Poor boy,” she whispered, “I am here. It will be all right.” She patted his hand and changed the cloth on his feverish forehead.

She had to do something about this hopeless situation. That was certain. Even if Lizzy might not immediately turn her attention to Vian, at least she should not marry a man who was completely wrong for her. One who would stifle her and make her into a shadow of the woman she was destined to become. And who knows, with time, she might see things differently. It was possible. If Mr. Darcy were out of the way.

When her niece came in with the tray, Arabella observed her from under narrowed eyelids as she poured for them both, finally deciding what she would do about it.

They sat for a while and quietly speculated about what it must have been like on the coast. Arabella praised her nephew for his gallantry and felt all of the guilt for his lying here now in such a state. Lizzy tried to reassure her that she could not take the blame for Tidwell being such a scoundrel, especially since his deplorable actions were not bound by the same morals valued by honourable men. And if Monsieur Vian had not acted on Holly’s behalf there was no telling what lengths he might have gone to regarding her person and reputation.

Eventually, silence reigned for a time until practical thoughts prevailed upon Mrs. Tournier’s mind and required that she share them.

“Lizzy, I have been thinking. We are in quite a tangle here, as I am sure you may have surmised by now. There is little enough money the way it is, and so hiring someone to nurse Maurice is out of the question. Mrs. Higgins has far too many duties of her own to assign her this task as well unless we all wish to live in squalor, wear dirty clothing and stop eating all together. Therefore we must take care of him ourselves.”

“Yes, Aunt, I rather thought it might be so. I have some little money left that my father gave me, but not enough to take care of such a thing. You are welcome to what I have though. It may help in some way.”

“No, Lizzy. Keep your money. I only need your person to help. I know it is a lot to ask, but Holly needs to work during the day, and to do my job of editing I must have good light since my eyes are not what they used to be. I could work in here during the day, by the window, and Holly might take the evenings after she returns from Clyne. But that would leave you to sit with him during the late night hours while she and I sleep. I would not ask it, but I cannot expect my daughter to sit up all night long and then go off to work, and I cannot work very well myself after being up for many hours. If you would agree to it, you could read by candlelight if you are so inclined, and should you grow too weary, you might sleep a little while in the chair next to his bed.”

“Of course, Aunt, I will do whatever is needed to help. You know I will.”

“Yes. Thank you, dear girl. I do have a great deal of faith in you, and I knew you would not balk at the task.

“In fact, my strong faith in you is why I now hope you will listen to one small thing I would say to you. I do not have any expectations that I can influence how you will think or feel, for I am not so foolish as to assume that is possible after our last little serious discussion.” She smiled knowingly at that, hoping to put her niece somewhat at ease so she might remain receptive to her words. “I do not even desire an answer from you, but only that you listen and ponder my advice. I know you value your father’s opinions, and regarding some matters you would necessarily need to abide by his wishes even if you should disagree with them. That is why I would encourage you to not immediately accept any offers that might come your way until you have spoken to him about it. I just worry that you will do something rash, and knowing that you will often take his council even if you will take no other, comforts me a great deal. I only want what is best for you, and I know your father does too.”

Having said her piece, she made one last scan of her nephew, who now seemed to be sleeping soundly, then stood up and walked over to Lizzy, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“If you do not mind, dear, I think I will try to get a few hours of sleep before morning. Please wake me at seven and I will take your place.”

“Of course,” was all the reply Lizzy gave. It was all Arabella had expected to receive.

When she reached her room she lay down on the bed, fully clothed but too tired to bother with changing. She stared up at the ceiling and began making a list to herself of the things she would need to do in the morning. Of course it was too soon to write Maurice’s father, at least until they knew more, but it was high time she wrote to her brother. She drifted off while she was mentally composing the first paragraph of it.

Darcy tossed in bed, his attempt to fall asleep failing miserably. The reminder of Elizabeth’s slim silhouette, clad only in her slender nightgown and sheltered from chill by nothing but the warmth of his embrace, was still fresh in his memory. His hands had wandered freely, following their instinctive inclination to detect the delicious curve leading along the spine to the small of her back and to two shapely hemispheres, where it would disappear into their meridian. Lying here now, just as his rakish mind captivated his thoughts with the unabashed desire of retracing the exact path with his tongue, his previous conversation with her intervened; his conscience barring him from the comfort of his usual fantasies that would harmonise with his anticipated dreams. Somehow he now felt censured. He knew how close Elizabeth was to asking more questions of him, and how uncomfortable it would be when he had to answer. What would her reaction be to his thoughts about her? Would she approve or find them shocking?

When they were together they seemed so close to each other. She was so easy in his company, but she was also so innocent. He knew he would not forgive himself if he were too forward and did anything that might scare her, no matter if it were before or after their wedding. He was determined to forget everything he knew from his earlier experiences with women. He would keep himself under control and take as much time as she needed. He would cherish her every kiss and touch.

But the mere thought of her, so innocent, being kissed and touched, could not help but bring thoughts of quite another kind, and ones far more disturbing. As eventful as the day was, the most notorious thoughts that haunted him were the words spoken by Vian in the carriage. Darcy wanted the man to admit they were merely lies, and he wanted to dismiss them as lies himself, but he could not. As much as he tried to blame them on Vian’s maliciousness and falsehoods, deep inside he knew they were true.

His mind reviewed the bits of information he had had from Vian, Brougham and Elizabeth for the numberless time. The views differed, but he could not find colliding facts. There was no other explanation for his receiving an identical report from both Brougham and Vian. And if Vian had not lied about the first one, there was no reason to assume he would produce the other out of thin air.

Darcy took several deep intakes of breath, trying to calm the quickened beating of his heart. “She did it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. The darkly shaded shapes surrounding him spun in his head, only to melt and sink in the dampness welling under his eyelids. He lay still, his thoughts mute, expressionless.

How could it have come about? He had left, without a word of his planned return, and Brougham had not delivered his message. She had felt abandoned. She must have. She had thought he would never want to see her again. That is what she had told him herself.

Of course he would rather she not look for comfort in another man’s arms -- and certainly not so soon at that. But Brougham told him she had not felt well that day at Clyne. No, she must have felt truly ill if she fell asleep during a visit. And it was no one’s fault but his own. He should have waited on her at Rosefarm to tell her about his departure himself. He should have never left that to Brougham. How miserable she must have felt thinking he had turned his back on her!

How encouraging had she been towards Vian? Did the man conclude that she would indeed have him after the fair based on her previous behaviour? No, he thought not. Elizabeth’s lively manners could be easily misunderstood for something they were not. Perhaps she had only been too vulnerable to reject tenderness and consolation in a most dire moment.

Finally, he reached the question that he dreaded most but could not put aside any longer. How much had she allowed the man? The first image that came to his mind showed Elizabeth being kissed and fondled by Vian. The man’s hands on her breasts, his hips pressed against her thighs. “Good God, I need to stop it!”

It could not have been like that. She told him she could never kiss a man she did not love, and he knew what her reaction to Vian’s assault had been. For goodness sake! He was going to marry her, and whether he would trust her words was more important than anything else that happened in the past.

He ran his fingers through his hair and shifted in the bed. He had known her for a long time now, and more intimately in the last few days. During their four encounters as an engaged couple he had offered her some gentle caresses. He felt the reaction of her body to each of them. If nothing else, that should tell him it was all a novelty to her. Whatever happened with Vian it must have been pretty innocent. Perhaps nothing more than a peck, or a soothing hand smoothing her hair. Although he abhorred the thought that she might have accepted even that much, particularly from Vian, he would not suspect her of anything else. She had thought he had abandoned her. She owed him nothing then. It was before he had made his wishes known to her and she had consented. He had no right to hold anything against her that had happened earlier, and he would be a fool if he mistrusted her for that reason.

She loved him. That he knew. She truly cared. Whatever Vian’s deed, he would not allow it to poison him against Elizabeth. It would take time to forget it, but it would be forgotten. But before that could happen he would have to stick to his resolution.

The day was grey, the air stiff, and the cloudy sky threatened rain. Nonetheless, Darcy and Elizabeth had both been determined to risk an outing, and now he was closely inspecting the dark shadows below her eyes as they walked in the direction of river.

“Pray, do you feel well today?”

“I only lack sleep. I stayed up all night looking after Monsieur Vian.”

Darcy’s anxiety rose, and he paid her a scrutinising look. “Why?”

“My aunt asked me to. What with all of the responsibilities everyone has in the household, I was the only one who could spare the sleep.”

“And when will you sleep?”

“I assume she thinks I am sleeping even now, or she expected me to at least. However, after a long night spent in a chair, she cannot begrudge me a walk out of doors.”

Darcy fell quiet, struggling with the realisation that she was attending to that man. Finally, he looked at her sideways and said, “I do not wish you to do that.”

“There is little I can do considering the situation.”

“I can do something. I will hire someone to attend to him. There is no need for a gentlewoman to act as someone’s nurse. But even more, there is no need for you to tend him.”

“I do not wish to do it, but how would you have me act when the man is wounded and fighting for his life? He saved yours.”

“Elizabeth, I am not devoid of compassion, but more happened yesterday than you know. Had he not been wounded I would have insisted that he leave Rosefarm today.”

He stopped and turned to her. There was no less determination in his eyes than in his words. “I cannot think of you taking care of that man.”

“I am sorry if I displease you,” she said softly.

“No, please, I am not reproaching you, and I have no doubt that you have the most caring heart. I just do not want you to nurse the man again.

“I am sorry if I sound unreasonable. If there were no other choice I would rather tend him myself than allow you to do it, but I can solve it otherwise.”

She nodded and walked on, her eyes trained on the ground, before quietly saying, “You do not suspect me of having any feelings towards the man other than compassion, I hope?”

Darcy caught her hand and put his fingers under her chin to force her look at him. “I do not, and I am sorry for my behaviour. I admitted it is unreasonable, but please bear with me. I do not doubt you, but whenever he is concerned I cannot curb my emotions.

“This man… He keeps trespassing over some invisible line. I cannot explain it, but I know that your attention would please him, and I cannot stand the thought of him being pleased by you.

“It is not your doing, Elizabeth, it is the way he would think about it that bothers me.”

“Sir, I had hoped I have made my feelings clear to both of you.” Her pain was obvious in her tone and her words.

“You have, Elizabeth.” He pulled the ribbon on her bonnet and eased it off of her head. “I am very sorry.” He pulled her into his arms. “Please, forgive me my outburst.”

She put her hands on his chest, and did not reciprocate his embrace. “There is nothing to forgive. I understand your feelings, but you need to understand mine. The tension at Rosefarm is hardly bearable. I sat up all night with a man in whose company I cannot feel comfortable under any circumstance. I gave up sleep most willingly because the mornings with you are the only part of my days that I look forward to with pleasure. I do not know how I will bear it if even you cannot be pleased with me.”

Darcy was mortified. He knew that his fretfulness in reference to this man would bring problems between Elizabeth and himself, and although he vowed not to allow it, he had caused the thing all the same.

“I am sorry, my love.” He kissed the corners of her eyes, now welling with tears. “I am pleased with you. Very much so. Your compassion towards him is proof of a generosity of the greatest kind. One I cannot find in myself. You have proven me weak, but I am truly proud of you.”

She gave him a hesitant look, and he felt even worse. A sense of panic overcame him. “Elizabeth, do not doubt me. I made a mistake. I am not able to look at the situation reasonably. Your judgement is good, mine is clouded by my anxiety, but losing your trust and faith in me would be an incomparable punishment.”

“You are not losing me, but I am puzzled as to why your emotions should be so strong in this case. Clearly it is not my safety you are worried about. The man is unconscious. If you object to any attention paid by me towards any man, even of the compassionate kind, you must tell me about it now.”

“I do not. Only him.” Darcy tightened his embrace around her as if he were afraid she might flee. “Only he has held you in his arms. Only he has thought of you as his.”

“It was against my will,” she stammered.

“I know.”

She gave him a look mixed with fury and pain. “There is something else, is there not?”

He looked at her, at a loss for anything sensible to say, yet unable to stop the words that were forcing themselves from his lips. “I cannot help but think that if I had not returned when I did he might have won your affection.”

He was horrified at the words as soon as he had spoken them. He had not exactly accused her of encouraging the man, but in light of what had been said so far the meaning had been implied. His hands dropped to his sides, feeling that he had no right to hold the woman in his arms that he had just insulted by charging her with fickleness. Mortified he observed the look of pain, anger and humiliation that was painted on her face. She stood there, speechless, and only the tears trailing down her cheeks spoke of the damage he had wrought on her. He reached out his hand, stopping his fingers inches from her face, in a gesture of apology for his having harmed her and in a silent plea to allow him to apologise. Her eyes watched his closely, and he could not tell what she had seen there as the expression in hers was blurred by moisture.

He would feel nothing but abhorrence for himself if only his sense of loss and helplessness were not stronger. His heart sank with the realisation that in just a few words he had ruined all that they had.

And then, just when he thought all hope was lost, the most unexpected thing occurred. She reached up to his face with the tip of her finger and wiped away the tear he had not realised was hovering there. He looked at her with tender gratitude, and once again reached to her cheek, this time hoping he could take her lack of opposition for encouragement. She watched him closely as he brushed away her own tears. She did not seem to yearn for his touch but did not squirm from it either. He longed to know her thoughts, but dared not ask them, and only allowed his fingers to trail to the wisps of the curls that lingered on her forehead.

“Forgive me.” He looked at her with a silent plea, begging her to accept his words from him, his touch, his love, anything… anything that she might consider worthy of her forgiveness.

She did not speak, but leaned against him and allowed him to console her in his embrace. He wrapped her in his arms, determined not to ruin the chance he was given. He bent down and whispered words of his love and devotion, and although she listened intently she still did not answer.

He pulled her even closer and began once again. This time revealing all of the fears that had built within him since Hunsford. He told her about a love that he thought could neither be quenched nor reciprocated, about hope that he feared was self-deceiving, about jealousy that he never allowed to grow into anger, too afraid of endangering her wishes, about determination that could be his fall at any minute, about loneliness that could be neither shared nor eased, and about the happiness and joy her love meant to him.

As she listened to his words, her hands began stroking his chest, and Darcy, encouraged by her soothing response, made his request, “Elizabeth, it has been almost a year now since I have fallen in love with you. Throughout all that time anxiety was my constant companion. Please, believe me when I say I do not doubt your love or your character, but I still may doubt my good fortune. It has been but a few days since you told me I have your love in return. I trust your words, I know I have you, but I still need more time to build my faith. To truly believe I have what I did not dare hope for.

“Please, my love, give me the time. This is all I ask for.”

She looked up at him and, with both hands, pulled his head down to hers. He searched her lips with his, and they both allowed their anxiety to perish with their closeness.

“I am truly ashamed of my…” he began to whisper when their lips parted, but was stopped from saying more by the finger she placed on his lips.

“Mr. Darcy,” she looked deeply into his eyes, and his breath caught in a silent prayer that they would not be interrupted by anyone on the road until she spoke, “I cannot appease your past pain, but since your happiness is in my hands now I believe it my duty to alleviate the current one. The thought of your disapproval of my actions and judgement is difficult for me, but it would be nothing if I had known how much pain I have brought to you. I truly hope to have your trust in the future, but I want you to know that I will never consciously do something that might pain you. Even if our views on a particular situation differ, I will never be so vain as to congratulate myself on my better judgement at the cost of your feelings.

“However, I feel as if this entire situation is my failure. While I have enjoyed our meetings, revelled in your pleasant attentions to me, and occupied myself with teasing you, I failed to notice that something was bothering you.

“I was so pleased with your easy manners towards me that I forgot about the reserved man whose feelings I could never read. You must think me a selfish creature who thinks of nothing but spending all her time on joy when a serious approach is needed.”

“Elizabeth, I do not think such a thing. I love you just as you are. I have never felt as happy as when I am with you. You make me laugh, feel at ease and open. If you have not noticed anything it is not because I was trying to hide my anxiety from you, but only because I forget about it all together when I am in your company. You are serious whenever it is needed, but I do not want anything between us to change. I would loathe myself if I transformed the lively, spirited lady you are into someone else.”

“What can I do then?”

“Just love me as you do.”

“Would it help if I told you exactly why I love you?”

“I am certain I could never tire of hearing it.”

She put her hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. “You are truly the best man I have ever met. Your intelligence, character and disposition are superior to anyone else’s. Your goodness, thoughtfulness and manners never cease to astound me. And when you are with me you are witty, open and truly amiable. You make me feel safe, loved and very happy. And I want you to feel the same in my company. I have learnt a lot since I met you, I feel as if I can talk about anything with you, and I believe we shall grow into a very well-suited couple. And when I said earlier that it is my failure that was because I was surprised that it was even possible you could not know all of that, for I do not believe there is a man that compares to you, and certainly not one that could suit me as well as you do.”

He gazed at her with tender affection. She could not have known how much he had needed to hear it, but he was grateful that she had sensed his need. “Thank you,” he said simply, reaching with his fingers to stroke her hair. “Elizabeth, as much as I can fail at times with my choice of words, I want you to know that you are the best friend I have ever had.”

“And you are mine.” She trailed her fingers along his chin. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Smile. I am never as sure of your love for me as when I know I make you happy.”

She smiled and threw her arms around his neck. “I will let you in on a secret if you will smile in return.”

He grinned, and her eyes sparkled at the sight of his dimples. She stood on her toes and whispered into his ear. “You are also irresistibly handsome.”

He laughed and pulled her closer for a long, tender kiss. They lingered in the embrace after their lips parted, whispering their mutual assurances mingled with sweet nothings, until Elizabeth decided that it was time to show her beloved exactly how happy he was making her, and pulled his hand to lead him towards the river where the further demonstration could safely take place.

Darcy strove to change the subject once they resumed their walk. “Today is our hebdomadary, and I have no present for you. Pray, what do you wish for?”

Her brow rose in question, and he smiled.

“I did not know what to call it otherwise, but it has been a week since you agreed to become my wife. I should offer you something on this occasion, but the situation with Tidwell happened so fast that I failed to remember it.”

“I think dealing with that man is gift enough, and your returning to me unharmed is all that I could ever wish for.”

He took her hand, removed the glove from it, and caressed her soft palm tenderly as they walked on. “That was a duty, not a gift. Pray, what would you want from me?”

Her spirits, rising to playfulness again, prompted her to give the first reply that came to her mind. “Perhaps a lesson, or two?”

He looked at her intrigued, but she only laughed. “I will tell later, after we arrive at our spot.”

This story is written by Laura and Sylwia, and they own full © copyrights to it.

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