Chapter 5
5
T he morning air was cool, edged with the last breath of night as Elizabeth stepped into the gardens ofRosings Park. The world was still half-asleep, the early mist curling around the hedgerows, the distant fields softened by dawn’s quiet glow.
She was certain of her solitude.
She meant to gather her thoughts beforeanother long day of pleasing Lady Catherine, enduring Mr. Collins’ ceaseless adoration, and pretending that nothing had changed.
But she wasnot alone.
At the far end of the garden, standing beside the stone balustrade that overlooked the vast grounds, wasMr. Darcy.
Elizabeth hesitated, stunned at his presence at the same time, she knew she half expected such a thing.
She should turn back.
But something inside her—something reckless, something desperate—kept her feet rooted to the ground.
Before she could make her decision, he turned.
"Miss Bennet." His smile was broad now, welcoming.
Elizabeth exhaled, forcing a small smile as she stepped forward. "Mr. Darcy."
He had not moved from where he stood, but his posturewas not the stiff, formal one she had come to expect from him. There was somethingmore relaxedin the way he looked at her, certainly they should not be alone together…again, but another thing, something that made her pulse quicken in a way she did not dare name, flitted across his face."
You are an early riser," she said lightly, needing tofill the silence with something, anything.
"As are you," he replied.
She swallowed. "Yes, I find I have little need for sleep lately."
Darcy’s gaze did not waver. "Nor do I."
The words should not have felt like a confession. And yet, they did.
“I wonder if either of us slept at all this night.” Elizabeth turned toward the balustrade, placing her hands on the cool stone, staring out over the mist-laden fields.If she did not look at him, perhaps this would feel less dangerous. "Lady Catherine has very particular opinions on the arrangement of flower beds," she said, her voice deliberately light. "Did you know?"
Darcy’s lips twitched. "I had not heard."
"Oh, indeed. Roses, she insists, must never be planted near fruit trees, for she claims their beauty overshadows the practicality of the orchard. I do not quite understand her reasoning, but she speaks of it with such authority that one dares not question her."
Darcy tilted his head slightly, regarding her withthe quiet intensity that always made her feel too exposed, too seen.
"And do you always speak of flowers when you are uneasy, Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth’s mouth snapped shut.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks.
"I do not," she lied.
He arched a brow.
Elizabeth huffed. "Very well, perhaps I do. It is a most useful skill—to fill uncomfortable silences with unnecessary facts. Would you rather I spoke of something else?"
"No," he said softly. "I simply would rather you stayed nearby."
Her breath slowed.
A breeze swept through the garden, rustling the branches overhead. A few loose curls escaped from Elizabeth’s bonnet, brushing against her cheek.
Before she could lift a hand to push them back,Darcy reached outso slowly, so carefully, as though he wereafraid she were a skittish thing, prone to escape.
His fingers brushed against her skin, barely there,a whisper of warmth against the cool morning air and moved her errant curl to the side.
Elizabeth swallowed. “Thank you.”
His hand lingered forone agonizing second too long.
And then—a gasp.
The sharp soundshattered the moment, jerking them both back into reality.
Elizabethspun around, her heart hammering in her chest.
A servant stood at the entrance of the garden path—a young maid, her eyes wide, her hands clutching the folds of her apron.
Elizabeth stepped back instinctively,her pulse pounding.
Darcy hadgone rigid, his jaw tight, his face carefully blank.
For a moment,no one moved.
And then—the maid curtsied hastily and fled.
Elizabeth’s breath came fast, her hands clenched at her sides.
"What have we done?" she whispered.
Darcy was silent for a long moment.
Then, his voice low, strained—"Nothing."
Elizabethlaughed, but there was no humor in it."Nothing? Do you believe that, Mr. Darcy? Do you truly?"
His jaw tightened. “No," he admitted. "I do not." He lifted a hand in the maid’s direction. “But to her? It was nothing. I was merely brushing the hair from your face. Believe me, there is much more she might have seen had she.” He stopped, his face actually turning a slight pink.
Elizabeth stared in amazement and then a small smile tugged at her lips, which she tried to hide. Mr. Darcy blushed?
He lifted her hand to his lips. “Had she seen what had been going through my mind…”
Her mouth went immediately dry. “Mr. Darcy…”
He locked his gaze on hers. She daren’t look away. She couldn’t. But she must.
“We should return inside,” she said finally, keeping her voiceevendespite the turmoil within her.
Darcy hesitated, as if there was something more he wished to say. But then, he simply gave asmall nod.
Neither of them spoke as they left the garden.
By the time Elizabeth entered thegrand drawing roomlater that morning, she was certainsomeone must know.
Surely, the maid had spoken.Surely, Lady Catherine was already preparing to demand an explanation.
Her pulse quickened as shesurveyed the room, bracing for some sign that her world was about to collapse around her.
But nothing happened.
Lady Catherine sat regally at the head of the gathering,as imperious as ever. Mr. Collins, stood near her, gestured wildly with his hands, absorbed in somelong-winded speech on the virtues of gratitude and humility.
The other guests were engaged inidle conversation, speaking ofLondon fashions, the latest social news, the quality of the supper served the night before.
Everything was normal.Too normal.
It appeared the maid had saidnothing.
Relief flooded through Elizabeth so quickly she nearly sagged where she stood.
She forced herself to keep her expressioncomposed, to moveas if nothing had happened at all.
But across the room, shefelt his eyes on her.
She dared a glance in his direction.
Darcy sat in his usual place,his expression unreadable.
And when their gazes met,he nodded, however slightly and then looked away.
"Ah, my dear cousin!"
Elizabeth barely had time to react beforeMr. Collins was at her side, beaming as though she had justrescued him from a burning building.
"I was just speaking to Lady Catherine of your many accomplishments," he said grandly. "She quite agrees that your manners are an example to all young women of respectable upbringing. And Mr. Darcy himself has just admitted that he finds your conversation most engaging!"
Elizabethblinked sharply, glancing toward Darcy.
Darcy, for his part, looked entirelydispleasedat having beenroped into Mr. Collins’ rambling conversation.
Elizabeth,half amused and half mortified, turned back to Mr. Collins with a polite smile. "I am honored, of course."
Lady Catherine spoke then, waving a hand as ifbored with the conversation already. "Miss Bennet is well enough in her skillful conversation, but I have yet to see if her accomplishments extend beyond speaking. She plays, does she not?"
Elizabeth barelysuppressed her sigh.
Mr. Collins, delighted to be included again, clapped his hands together. "Indeed, she does! And quite well, I assure you, your ladyship!"
Lady Catherine merely lifted asingle commanding brow. "Then let her play."
Elizabeth took her place at theinstrument, hands poised over the keys, willing herself to focus onthe music and nothing else.
She had barely begun when she sensedmovement behind her.
Mr. Collins, who would normally take great pride inhovering over her, wasstill occupied with Lady Catherine.
Instead,Mr. Darcy had risen.
Shefelt him before she saw him—the quiet presence at her side, the warmth of him standingtoo near. He had come toturn her pages.
She nearly faltered over the keys.
But she forced herself to keep playing, to keep her fingerssteady, tonot reactto the weight of his presence beside her.
The first page ended, andhis hand moved.
Slow, deliberate,brushing against hers for the barest secondbefore it was gone.
The touch wasnothing, meaningless, an accident?—
And yet,her heart thumped its response.
He did not speak.
She did not look at him.
But when the second page ended, andhis fingers brushed along her arm, sheknew it was not an accident.
Her breath hitchedtoo loudly, but no one else in the room seemed to notice.
Onlyhe did and continued his attentions throughout the piece.
She finished witha final press of the keys, exhaling shakily.
Darcyturned the last page, carefully,as though it mattered.
And when she finally dared to glance at him, the tenderness in his gaze surprised her.
Elizabeth stood abruptly, forcing a bright smile. "I hope I have satisfied your ladyship."
Lady Catherinewaved a dismissive hand. "You have done well enough. Though, of course, had you been trained under my direction, you would play much better."
Elizabeth bit back alaugh, curtsying slightly. "I do not doubt it, your ladyship."
Mr. Collinsclapped his hands togetheronce more. "A most excellent performance, my dear cousin!"
But Elizabeth barely heard him.
She could stillfeel the ghost of Darcy’s touch lingering on her skin.
She could still hearthe words they had not spoken.
And she could not decide if she wishedto run away from him forever?—
Or if she wishedto stay.