“And you?” he asked, glancing at her briefly before his gaze returned to the path ahead. “You are quieter than usual.”
A fortnight ago, Elizabeth might have concluded he thought her boisterous, like her younger sisters, but now she was simply surprised by his observation. Was it so apparent? She mustered a smile, though she doubted its sincerity. “I am happy for my sister.”
“I suspected as much,” he replied, gazing straight ahead, “but that is not what I asked.”
Elizabeth turned to look at him, then—really look at him. Rather than his usual reserve, she sensed genuine concern, and she thought his perception merited an honest answer.
“Jane has always been the best of sisters, the most constant presence in my life. While I would not wish to keep her to myself when such happiness awaits her, I cannot pretend I will not miss her.”
Darcy was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It is a natural sentiment, I think, when siblings are so devoted to one another.”
Elizabeth studied him, struck by the understanding in his words. For all his reserve, it was clear he knew something of what she felt. His own connection to Miss Darcy, she realised, was likely just as profound.
“Do you feel it too?” she asked before she could stop herself. “When Miss Darcy contemplates her own future, do you feel both pleasure and sadness?”
His gaze flicked to hers, startled, but he did not shy away. “It is not easy to imagine such a separation. But Georgiana’s happiness must always come first.”
Elizabeth believed him. Mr. Darcy might be reserved, but he was also someone who deeply valued the people he loved.
They reached the edge of the churchyard, where a small bench was nestled beneath an ancient oak tree. After a pause, Elizabeth sat down. Mr. Darcy did as well, though he left a proper amount of space between them. He gazed back towards the church.
“Change is inevitable. But I have found that there is a certain pattern to it, a way in which it sweeps through our lives, disconcerting at first, but making us stronger as we learn to live in a new way.”
Elizabeth turned to him with a smile. “That was almost poetic, Mr. Darcy.”
He grunted. “Do not tell Fitzwilliam.”
This made Elizabeth laugh. “Thank you. I dearly needed a little levity this morning.”
He smiled, then, more broadly than was his wont, and Elizabeth noted that he had dimples in both cheeks that made him appear boyish. Perhaps that was why his smiles were always so small and contained.
They fell into a companionable silence, and Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted. She glanced at Mr. Darcy, who for once seemed relaxed. Or perhaps it was only that he was not standing with his hands clasped behind his back and his posture as rigid as the ancient stones of the churchyard wall.
“I recall,” he said suddenly, “when Miss Bennet fell ill at Netherfield. You did not hesitate to walk three miles across the fields to come and nurse your sister. Your dedication to her was evident. You put her comfort above your own.”
Elizabeth was surprised by the change in subject, but perhaps he felt they had strayed too far from their original conversation.“Dear Jane,” she said fondly. “Who could do less for her? Though I am sure I scandalised you, Mr. Darcy, appearing as I did in muddied boots and petticoats.”
“I was notscandalised,” Mr. Darcy said, and Elizabeth caught a slight emphasis on the last word.
She felt her cheeks warm, though she was not certain why.
“I was impressed by your care for your sister.”
She studied Mr. Darcy’s countenance, noting again the shadows beneath his eyes. Before she could stop herself, another thought flitted through her mind: Who took care of Mr. Darcy? Miss Darcy, for all her sweetness, was still so young. Who comforted Mr. Darcy when he was unwell? Who helped him carry his burdens, or tended to him when he was weary? The notion that he might require such a thing was a new one, and she quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to dwell on it too long.
Mr. Darcy, for all his flaws and complexities, was no longer a man she could easily dismiss. She ought to feel perturbed or perhaps even ashamed that she had not seen him as anything but a villain before. She did not, but her understanding of Mr. Darcy had completely altered.
The churchyard was quiet around them, and for a moment, it seemed as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them. Elizabeth felt a curious sense of peace.
The spell was broken by a few parishioners leaving the sanctuary, and Mr. Darcy offered his hand to help her to her feet. She hesitated only briefly before taking it, his touch, warm and steady through his gloves, sending a little shock up her arm. Her breath caught.
“Do you feel a little better?”
She smiled. “I do.”
He nodded and though he did not smile, Elizabeth thought he seemed pleased. “Shall we return to the others, then?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded, her hand lingering in his for just a moment longer before she released it. As they walked back inside, she found herself glancing at him from the corner of her eye, her thoughts tangled and uneasy.
