Chapter Thirteen
By the eighth day of their carefully choreographed friendship, Elizabeth had endured quite enough.
She could not know him better if she only saw the man in the company of his young sister.
They were dancing around each other in polite circles and it would not do.
She did not want to rush ahead, she told herself, but she also did not want to progress at a snail's pace.
As she descended the stairs to breakfast that morning, she decided to break the pattern.
"Good morning, Darcy. Georgiana."
They both greeted her warmly. The lines in this little play were well rehearsed by now, Elizabeth thought as she took her usual place at the table.
Darcy folded his newspaper. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, thank you."
"And you?" Elizabeth asked tightly.
"Perfectly."
There it was again. Perfectly pleasant. Perfectly civil. Elizabeth reached for the teapot before she was tempted to stick her tongue out at him simply to draw out some reaction that had not been rehearsed a dozen times before.
Georgiana began telling her about a letter she had received from a friend in London and Elizabeth listened with half an ear while Darcy returned to his newspaper.
He looked entirely at ease behind it, though the hand curled around his coffee cup gripped it so tightly that his knuckles were white, and she found herself irritated by the sight.
When Georgiana paused in her speech to butter a roll, Elizabeth put down her cup. "Darcy, you told me upon our journey here that there was a pool and waterfall somewhere in the grounds which your mother used to take you to as a boy."
The newspaper lowered slowly and Darcy looked at her over the top of it, eyeing her uncertainly. "I did."
"And you said you would show it to me." Elizabeth took another sip of tea, watching him over the rim of her cup. "I have now been at Pemberley for more than a week and I begin to think you have forgotten."
A crease appeared between his brows. He frowned. "I have not forgotten."
Elizabeth waited. When no further offer appeared forthcoming, she lifted her brows. "Well?"
Darcy glanced towards the small stack of correspondence beside his plate, then back at her. "I had intended to spend the morning with my steward." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I suppose he can survive without me until this afternoon."
Elizabeth tried not to look too pleased. "I should hate to be responsible for throwing Pemberley into disorder."
"I believe the estate will endure." His smile deepened as he folded the newspaper and set it aside. "If you are willing to brave the walk, I would be very happy to show you."
The teasing warmth in his voice caught her off guard. For the past week he had been so careful with her that even this small departure from their usual formality made something flutter beneath her ribs.
"I am willing," she said, trying not to smile too broadly.
???
The path into the eastern woods began beyond the formal gardens and soon narrowed beneath the trees.
The morning was cool and bright, with sunlight moving through the leaves overhead and catching in patches across the path.
Elizabeth walked beside Darcy, very aware of his nearness, though conversation came easily enough once they were away from the house.
Once they left the formal gardens behind, Darcy seemed to unwind.
He walked with an easier stride beneath the trees, his hands loose at his sides rather than clasped behind his back, and spoke about the estate with an ease that suited him.
He told her which paths he had ridden as a boy and admitted that on fine mornings he had sometimes escaped his tutor and hidden in the woods until hunger drove him home.
Elizabeth looked at him, shocked by the revelation. "You? I cannot imagine such rebellion."
Darcy glanced across at her. "I was not born at eight and twenty years old, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth found herself watching him as much as the scenery.
She also tried very hard not to notice that he had not offered her his arm.
There was no reason he should. The path was broad, the ground dry and she had made it clear that she wanted him to keep some distance between them.
A promise that he had honoured scrupulously.
It was silly that she should feel the lack of his touch now that he was doing exactly as she had asked.
Some minutes later Elizabeth heard the water before she saw it, a low, steady rush somewhere beyond the trees.
Darcy left the broader path and led her beneath a canopy of beech and oak where the light grew softer and the ground sloped gently away beneath their feet.
Then the trees opened and the pool appeared below them, dark and glassy beneath the branches, fed by a narrow fall of water that slipped over a shelf of grey rock and broke into white foam before disappearing into the stillness.
Elizabeth stopped and drank in the sights and sounds of this special place.
Ferns crowded thickly along the bank and moss softened the stones at the water's edge, bright green where the sunlight found it.
The surface caught scattered pieces of sky between the leaves, shifting from deep green to silver whenever the breeze stirred the branches overhead.
It was quieter here than anywhere else she had walked at Pemberley, and the house and gardens seemed very far away.
Elizabeth could understand at once why his mother had brought him to such a place.
If fairies were inclined to dance anywhere in Derbyshire, she thought, they could hardly have chosen better.
"Oh," she said, turning to Darcy with a smile she could not contain. "It is beautiful."
Darcy was not looking at the pool at all. "As are you."
He said it quietly, almost absently, but so sincerely that she could only gape at him.
Then Darcy turned and began to make his way along the edge of the water, choosing his footing carefully where the moss thickened over the stones.
He did not glance back to see what effect he had produced.
Her heart was thudding in her chest as she gathered her skirts and followed him, trying to recover some dignity before he turned around again.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile this version of Darcy with the stiff, disapproving man she had known at Netherfield.
The path narrowed where the bank curved around the pool and Darcy moved slowly ahead of her, placing his boots carefully on the damp stones to test their soundness.
"You are being very cautious," she said, aiming for a light tone.
"I have no wish to fall in," Darcy said, glancing back at her, "and even less wish to see you do so."
Elizabeth smiled. "How gallant."
"How practical. Georgiana would never let me forget it. And she certainly would not forgive me if I returned you sodden and at risk of a cold."
He stepped onto the next stone and held out his hand to her. "Come carefully. These are slick."
Elizabeth placed her hand in his, though not before her mind supplied a thoroughly unhelpful image of Darcy climbing from the pool in nothing but a fine lawn shirt, soaked through and clinging indecently to his chest. She looked away at once and concentrated very firmly on her footing.
His hand closed around hers as he guided her onto the next stone.
Elizabeth had just put her weight onto it when her boot slid sideways on the moss.
She gave a startled cry and pitched towards him, catching at his coat as Darcy grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him.
The movement left her half turned in his arms, one of his hands spread across her back while the other had caught her at the curve of her hip.
Elizabeth could feel the warmth of his palm through her gown and the hard rise of his chest beneath the hand she had planted there.
She looked up and found him staring at her mouth.
For one foolish second she thought he must kiss her.
Darcy's thumb moved once against her hip, then stopped.
His jaw tightened and he drew in a slow breath before easing her upright again, keeping one hand at her waist until he was certain she had her balance.
"There. Safe and sound," he murmured.
Elizabeth looked down at the stones and tried not to feel cheated.
Darcy stepped onto firmer ground and held out his hand again.
This time Elizabeth took it without hesitation, and Darcy led her around the pool without releasing her hand until they reached the bank.
They stayed beside the water for some time after that.
Darcy showed her the broad flat stone where his mother had often spread a blanket for summer picnics and pointed out a twisted beech where Georgiana had sincerely believed the fairies slept in her younger years.
Elizabeth laughed and asked whether he had encouraged such fancifulness.
Darcy admitted that he had; Georgiana had been only eight and so delighted by the idea that he had no wish to spoil it.
By the time they began the walk back to the house, she had stopped trying to make sense of her feelings.
It was pleasant simply to walk beside Darcy while he talked, his voice low and easy.
He occasionally stopped to show her a pretty view or to point out a shorter path through the trees, but still did not offer his arm.
He kept close beside her on the walk back, so close that their sleeves brushed now and then.
After a few minutes Elizabeth slipped her hand through his arm almost without thinking.
Darcy glanced down at her hand, then at her.
The dimple appeared again and Elizabeth looked away before he could catch her smiling.
They were nearly back at the house when the sound of wheels carried across the drive. Darcy glanced towards the break in the trees and Elizabeth followed his gaze as a carriage came to a halt beneath the portico. "Were you expecting anyone?"
"No." His brow creased as he squinted towards the crest on the door. A footman was already hurrying forwards, but Elizabeth had stopped looking at the carriage itself. She knew the bonnet that came into view as the door opened.
"Jane?"
She released Darcy's arm and hurried across the gravel just as Jane stepped down from the carriage with Bingley's hand beneath hers.
Her cheeks were pink from the journey, a few fair curls had worked loose beneath her bonnet and she was laughing at something he had said.
Elizabeth could not remember the last time she had seen her sister look so completely carefree.
Then Jane saw her and her whole face lit up. "Lizzy!"
Elizabeth caught her in a fierce embrace. "Jane! What are you doing here?"
Jane drew back, still smiling, as Bingley came to stand beside her. He looked absurdly pleased with himself, while Darcy, arriving a moment later, gave his friend a long, questioning look. "Bingley?"
"Darcy." Bingley's grin widened.
Elizabeth looked from one to the other before turning back to Jane. "What has happened?"
Jane glanced at Bingley and the look they exchanged made Elizabeth's heart jump. Then her sister took his hand and said, with a brightness Elizabeth had never seen in her before, "We are married. Just a few days ago!"
For once, Elizabeth had absolutely nothing to say.
Jane laughed at her expression. "Charles obtained a special licence and we were married in London.
We meant to write, but then we heard you had already left for Pemberley and Charles decided we ought to come and tell you ourselves.
And congratulate the two of you, of course!
It is so wonderful that we are all family. "
"We had already wasted enough time," Bingley said, squeezing Jane's hand.
Jane looked up at Bingley and smiled widely, her heart so plainly in her eyes that Elizabeth could only stare. She had never seen her usually serene sister display her emotions so openly. She appeared transformed and blissfully happy.
Darcy found his voice first. He stepped forwards, took Jane's hand and bowed over it with a smile. "Welcome to Pemberley, Mrs Bingley."