Chapter 4

4

T he great halls ofRosings Parkwere silent at night.

During the day, the manor was filled withthe sounds of polished shoes against marble, the low murmur of voices, and the distant clatter of the servants at their work. But after the household retired, the stillness was absolute—except for the occasional flicker of candlelight in the corridors, the soft hush of wind against the windowpanes, and the restless stirrings of those who could not sleep.

Elizabeth was among them.

She sat on the edge of the small bed in the guest chamber assigned to her, wrapped in her thin shawl, staring out the window at the moonlit gardens below.

Sleep would not come.

Not when her mind was tangled witheverything that had transpired that day.

Not whenher own voice still echoed in her ears—I am not.

Not whenDarcy had heard her say it. You deserve to be happy.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her shawl. She had not seen him at dinner, nor in the hours that followed, butshe had felt his absence as keenly as if he had been sitting beside her.

She hadrevealed too much.

And yet, she could not bring herself to regret it.

With a soft sigh, Elizabeth rose from the bed and reached for the candle on her bedside table.She needed air.

She slipped out of her room,moving quietly through the corridors, her candle casting long, flickering shadows against the stone walls.

Perhaps a walk through the dimly lit hallways would settle her mind.

Or perhaps—it would only unsettle it further.

Elizabeth rounded a corner and held her breath.

Mr. Darcy stood at the far end of the corridor. How could this be? How could he be everywhere she went?

Shestilled immediately, heart hammering, candle trembling slightly in her grasp.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Darcy was dressed ina loose white shirt and dark trousers, his coat and cravat discarded, his hair slightly tousled. He looked less like theproud, untouchable gentlemanand more like a man who had spent the last few hours in the sametormented state as she.

"Miss Bennet," he finally said, his voice low in the stillness.

Elizabeth swallowed. "Mr. Darcy. We meet again."

A pause.Long. Tense. Breathless.

His gaze flickered to the candle in her hand. "You could not sleep."

It was not a question.

Elizabeth hesitated, then gave the smallest shake of her head. "No. You either?"

His jaw tightened slightly, and he shook his head.

Without another word,he turned and began walking.

Andbefore she could stop herself, she followed.

They walked in silence down the long corridor, their footsteps soft against the thick carpets.

It wasimproper, wildly so, and Elizabeth knew she should turn back.She should not be alone with him like this.

And yet—she could not make herself leave.

Darcy finally broke the silence. "You miss your home."

It was not a question.

Elizabeth glanced at him. "How do you know?"

He exhaled, eyes fixed ahead. "You speak of it often. Of the hills in Hertfordshire. The woods, the fields. You are… fond of the familiar."

She tilted her head. "Is that so unusual?"

"No," he said softly. "Not at all."

Silence settled again, but it wasnot uncomfortable.

Elizabeth glanced at him. "And you, Mr. Darcy? Do you miss Pemberley?"

Something flickered in his gaze.

"Always," he admitted. "It is… the only place where I feel at ease."

Elizabethstudied him, surprised by the honesty in his voice.

She had always imagined him to beunshakable, untouchable, utterly in control. But there was something different about him now. Somethingsofter, somethingworn.

"You are not at ease here?" she asked quietly.

Darcy gave the barest of smiles. "No."

Elizabeth inhaled, turning her gaze forward again. "Neither am I."

They continued walking, the house silent around them, the candlelight flickering over the walls.

"Tell me," Darcy said after a long pause. "What would you be doing now, if you were home?"

Elizabeth let out a soft breath, her lips curving. "I would be reading. Or walking in the garden."

He glanced at her. "You walk alone?"

"Often," she said. "It is the only time I can truly think."

Darcy nodded, as if he understood that sentiment exactly.

Elizabeth hesitated, then glanced at him. "And you? If you were at Pemberley?"

A small pause. "I would be riding."

Elizabeth raised a brow. "Even at this hour?"

His lips twitched. "Especially at this hour."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You are an intriguing man, Mr. Darcy."

He exhaled, his expression unreadable. "I suspect we are much alike, Miss Bennet."

The words hung between them.

They slowed their pace, as their steps grew smaller, as the air between them grewheavier, somethingelsesettled in its place.

Something they hadboth been trying to ignore.

Darcy stopped walking.

Elizabeth followed suit.

Silence.

His breath sounded shuddered—unsteady. Deep.

He turned to face her.

"Why can you not sleep?”

It was not a question that needed answering.

Elizabeth tilted her chin slightly. "I notice you suffer from the same ailment."

A pause.

Then—softly, as if the wordscost him something—"I suspect you are correct."

They stood in silence, neither of them moving.

Elizabeth should say somethingsafe, something meaningless.

Instead, she asked, "Do you often pace the halls of great houses in the dead of night, Mr. Darcy?"

A flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Only when there is something on my mind."

She arched a brow. "Some thing ?” Why was she pressing him? Did she really want a declaration from him? Desperately. And at the same time, not at all.

Darcy’s lipsparted slightly, but no words came.

The air between themshifted, thickened, deepened.

Elizabeth exhaled, shaking her head,desperate to break whatever was happening between them.

"Perhaps we should pretend," she said, "that this is nothing more than a friendly encounter. We are merely two acquaintances, enjoying a harmless conversation. No tension. No consequences. Nothing at all improper about it."

Darcystudied her, his expression unreadable. "Is that what you want?"

Elizabeth hesitated—too long, far too long. She lifted her chin. "Yes."

A small, unreadable smile touched his lips. "Then let us pretend."

They walked side by side down the dimly lit corridor, slow and unhurried, as though this werethe most natural thing in the world.

For a time, they spoke ofnothing at all.

Then, books. The gardens at Rosings. A particularlypompous speech from Mr. Collins at dinnerthat had nearly made Elizabeth choke on her wine.

Darcy had laughed at that—a quiet, genuine sound, low and rough, like something he had forgotten how to do.

Elizabethliked the sound of it far too much.

"You find me ridiculous," she observed lightly.

"Not at all," he said. "I find you…" He trailed off.

She glanced at him. "Yes?"

A long pause.

Darcy exhaled, shaking his head. "Nothing. No. Not nothing. I daren’t say what I was thinking."

Elizabeth found it difficult to swallow, to breathe, to continue functioning normally, but she held her tongue.

She did not know how much longer she could pretend.

They reached the far end of the corridor, stopping neara grand window overlooking the darkened gardens.

The candle in Elizabeth’s hand flickered slightly in the draft.

She turned toward himwithout thinking, scrambling for something to say.

He wascloser than she expected.

Too deliciously close.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Darcy inhaled sharply, his hands clenched at his sides.

"I should go," she whispered.

"You should," he murmured, his gaze travelling over her face like a soft caress.

Neither of them moved.

The candlelight illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the wayhis gaze burned into hers, the way his breathwas uneven, unsteady.

Elizabeth’s pulsethundered around her ears.

He lifted a hand—just slightly, just barely—reaching for hers.

And thena sound shattered the moment.

A door creaking open down the corridor.

Elizabethstartled back, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Darcyexhaled sharply, pressing a hand over his face as thoughregaining control.

Silence.

She breathed out in relief.

Then,without looking at her, he whispered,"Goodnight, Miss Bennet."

And he walked away.

Elizabeth stood in the dimly lit hallway,breathless, trembling, more lost than she had ever been.

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