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“Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth ducked him an awkward curtsy. Was that a frown upon her face? Darcy waited impatiently for her to raise her head, but when she did, her expression was all that a well-bred young female’s should be on such a meeting. The tense muscles surrounding his stomach relaxed somewhat, and he stepped forward.

“You are just beginning your walk, I gather,” he began quickly, too ebullient to pause for her to either confirm or deny it. “Rosings Park has been the work of generations. It was, as well, a haunt of my youth; therefore” — his voice dropped — “I know it rather intimately.” At the last word he regarded her earnestly. “It would be my pleasure to act as your guide and begin to acquaint you with some of its lesser-known beauties.”

Elizabeth blinked up at him, seemingly a little stunned by his offer. “You are most generous, sir, but I could not ask for so much of your time. It must be an imposition.”

Her appropriate concern pleased him. “Not at all! I am at your disposal, Miss Bennet.” He offered her his arm, and as the other day, her hesitant acceptance of it delighted him with its delicacy of manner and eschewal of expectation. “Of course, we may only make a start of it today. A complete exploration would not be possible even during the entirety of this, your first visit. I promise you, it will be quite some time before you will have seen all that Rosings Park has to offer.” This observation seemed to impress her, for her only reply was a faint “Indeed!” as he indicated the direction in which they were to go.

They walked on in silence, Darcy in a quandary as to what sort of topic he should introduce now that her company had been secured. Really, he was quite satisfied, for the present, with her nearness and the exciting pressure of her hand upon his arm; but convention and consideration required they converse. And he would, upon reflection, be very happy to receive so close to his ear whatever observations or opinions on most any subject that she might entertain. Learning more of her was, after all, the reason he had given his conscience for these almost clandestine meetings.

“Do you enjoy your stay at Hunsford, Miss Bennet?” He finally broke the quiet with a safe, mundane inquiry.

“Yes, yes I do,” Elizabeth answered him with feeling. “Charlotte — Mrs. Collins — is a dear and longstanding friend who knows my disposition very well and is quite comfortable to leave me to my own devices.”

Just so! Darcy luxuriated in Elizabeth’s assurance that this and future encounters would not be endangered by Mrs. Collins’s unexpected presence. Further, and as he had suspected, the rector’s wife had some inkling of how things stood and had signaled to Elizabeth her cooperation in the matter. He looked down upon the straw bonnet that bobbed at his shoulder, a sense of contentment overtaking him. Would not this be what it would be like, this sweetness, this sense of completeness arising from her presence beside him in mutual support, mutual pursuit of a fully shared life? If only the din raised by his duty could be silenced!

They had reached the first bypath, barely discernible even to his familiar eye, and he gently turned her in to it, smiling reassuringly at her questioning brow. “Patience!” was the sum of the explanation he offered her. Carefully pushing aside the occasional wand that had grown across the way since his last visit to this particular place five years before, Darcy ushered Elizabeth down the faint trail. For the most part, it proceeded straightforwardly, not winding save around the odd great rock or tree jutting from the earth; for it was one that he and Richard had blazed as boys whose object it was to arrive at their destination as quickly as possible rather than to excite pleasure in the going. Within minutes, they reached it, the glade that had been so many places to him in his boyhood — Crusoe’s desert island, a wilderness fortress under the gallant Wolfe in America, a castle to be defended alongside Arthur — and he turned to see her reception of it. Elizabeth’s exclamation of delight was all he had hoped for.

“Fitzwilliam and I found this place the summer I was ten years of age, despite some forceful dissuasion from Her Ladyship’s forester.” She turned from him, then, and he watched silently as she explored, confident that she understood what had now become his first gift to her.

Someday he would tell her the rest, how Lady Catherine’s forester had tried to keep Richard and him from roaming the wood that long ago spring with tales of a fearfully wild boar that inhabited it. Of course, such stories were all they had needed, and they had taken off like a shot to find the creature. How, by the time they had reached the main path through the grove, they had so thoroughly scared each other with imagined sounds of snorting in the brush that they had fallen as much as run down the small hill with not the least idea which direction they were heading and so stumbled upon this hidden glade. Someday he would tell her…but not today. Today what he wished was to share with her that mysterious, magical spirit he had always felt possessed by this patch of wood.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. It is quite lovely.” Elizabeth rejoined him after several minutes, gratitude resting lightly upon her face. “I would never have found this place on my own.”

“It is my pleasure, Miss Bennet,” he returned as she stepped away from him and began threading her way back to the path by which they had come. Darcy acknowledged the wisdom of her unspoken message; they should not stay longer here in the glade alone. Giving his old haven a grateful nod for doing well by him, he turned to start after her. The rustling sound of leaves mixed with the clicking of branches gave warning that spring winds were stirring overhead. From long acquaintance, Darcy knew they would soon rush down into the glade. Instinctively, he grasped the brim of his hat and looked to Elizabeth to call a warning, but the words caught in his throat as the winds swirled about her in teasing, intimate play with her bonnet and frock.

At that entrancing sight, everything within him suddenly urged him after her, strenuously assuring him that all he wanted would be answered if he would just this very moment enfold her in his arms and bring her within their shelter, if he could caress her cheek and search out the soft reaches of her lips! He started forward, the contentment he had felt now displaced by desire, oversetting him so that it was not until he was almost upon her that his rational mind succeeded in bringing himself to order.

The sound portion of his mind which still remained warned him that the struggle to attend to rationality was becoming increasingly desperate in anything touching upon Elizabeth. That much was too obvious to ignore any longer, and the sudden realization of this lessening of his self-command cooled his ardor as no indignation on Elizabeth’s part ever could have done. He slowed his pace, keeping his distance as they walked up to the main path of the park. It was not that desire was gone; he still knew that ache, but he was more himself and able to think with some degree of collection.

“Mr. Darcy, I think I should return to Hunsford.” Elizabeth greeted him with her decision as he joined her on the upper path. Darcy could only thank God for her announcement. His equanimity alone in her presence had been tested enough for one day. “Mrs. Collins mentioned she would have need of me, and I should think she is well ready for my help by this hour.”

“Of course, you must go to the aid of your friend,” he replied solemnly. But despite the danger that still remained, he could not prevent himself from adding, “Allow me, I beg you, the peace of mind seeing you to her door would afford.” Her brow rose at that; nonetheless, she accepted his proffered arm, and together they turned back to the village.

Again, only silence and the path were shared between them. Now and then he would steal glances at her as they wended back to Hunsford, but he could make nothing of her steady, calm features. Occasionally, he thought he detected the frown he had suspected earlier, but Elizabeth’s diffidence prevented confirmation, and he set it down to a lapse by her into thought. They walked on, but try as he might, Darcy could not recapture that sense of contentment he had experienced earlier on the path. He was still too much aware of her, he ruefully concluded, and wondered whether marriage might temper the emotions tumbling about within him and direct them into more happy channels. There was a question! Would marriage, after all, make him happier? It was fervently to be hoped, although he could not say that he had observed it to be true in his married friends. Rather, their marriages, arranged for reasons of family, connections, or fortune, had so little to do with his own situation that he could have no point of reference. Of the happiness of wives, he had even less idea, save for the disconcerting evidence supplied him by the many lures matrons of various ages had cast to him since his majority. Perhaps the answer lay in some other direction.