“We would be delighted.” Elizabeth settled herself on a nearby stone bench. “Though I warn you, Mrs. Bell is a far more patient subject than I am likely to be.”
As the lieutenant prepared his materials, Mrs. Bell took her place beside Elizabeth, her posture naturally graceful and serene. Mr. Darcy and the colonel stood nearby, speaking to a group of officers while keeping a close eye on the ladies.
“Would you turn slightly toward the light, Mrs. Bell?” Lieutenant King gave polite direction. “And Miss Bennet, if you could angle your chin just so? Perfect.”
What followed was the most charming hour Elizabeth had spent since leaving England. The artist worked with intense concentration, his earlier nervousness forgotten in the joy of creation.
“You have a gift for putting your subjects at ease,” Mrs. Bell observed as he added delicate shading to her portrait.
Elizabeth noted, “I suspect that is half the secret of good portraiture.”
“Thank you, ladies. Though I confess, it is not difficult when one’s subjects are so…” He lost his words again, his pencil hovering uncertainly over the paper.
“So patient?” Elizabeth supplied helpfully.
“So lovely,” he said in a rush, then immediately turned scarlet. “I mean…that is…forgive me, I did not mean to…”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Prudence said. “It is kind of you to say so, Lieutenant King.”
When the portraits were complete, Elizabeth, along with the others, marveled at the officer’s skill at rendering their characters. “These are magnificent,” she said sincerely. “You have given us the most wonderful mementos of Gibraltar.”
“Might I… Would it be terribly forward of me to ask if I could make another drawing? Of Miss Bennet alone?” The young man asked, his courage bolstered by their praise. “The light is beginning to catch your hair in the most extraordinary way.”
As he began this new sketch, Elizabeth became awareof Mr. Darcy's gaze and could not look away. He studied her unabashedly, his admiration open.
It was like seeing a flower bloom in real time.
She tried to understand what was happening between them. This tender awareness, this magnetic pull that drew her soul to his despite all reason and past grievance. Her hand rose unconsciously to where her heart was racing. Yesterday, when she had taken his arm in that public courtyard, when she felt the solid warmth of him beneath her touch and noted the grateful relief flood his features, had that been the beginning of something significant?
Because you matter to me more than my own life.The memory of his desperate declaration gave her a shiver that had nothing to do with the breeze.Had he meant it?Could a man like Mr. Darcy—reserved, controlled—truly feel what she imagined she saw shining in him?
In her disquiet, she had broken her visual connection with the object of her thoughts, instead glancing at the artist and then at the surrounding scenery.
“Miss Bennet?” Prudence broke through her reverie. “Are you well?”
Mr. Darcy was quick to react. “Is it the sun? Do you need a cooling drink?”
Elizabeth blinked, realizing she had been staring while her thoughts spiraled through possibilities she hardly dared contemplate. “Forgive me. I was merely admiring the beauty before me.”
The excuse sounded hollow even to her own ears. Mr. Darcy’s adoration was like looking into a mirror that reflected her heart’s deepest secrets.
Am I developing feelings for him?When had her opinionchanged from active dislike to grudging respect to this uncertain awareness that scattered her thoughts each time their gazes crossed?
The drawing was complete, and the officer asked the four of them to stand against the same backdrop. Prudence stepped next to the colonel, leaving Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth alongside each other. When the final drawing was revealed, everyone was facing Lieutenant King except Mr. Darcy. He was gazing lovingly at her.
Who was this man?
Before they parted company, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy each purchased small drawings of the area that they would send to their families on the next vessel bound to England.
“Well,” Prudence said as they walked back toward their quarters. “You seemed to inspire our shy young artist!”
“I believe it was the novelty of having someone new to draw.” Elizabeth peered sideways at Mr. Darcy, who walked beside her, his fingers occasionally brushing against hers. She did not move away. Fortunately, neither did he.
She had much to write to Jane and her aunt Gardiner, and much to avoid telling them.
The afternoon suncast long shadows across Gibraltar’s bustling marketplace as Colonel Fitzwilliam made his way between the vendors’ stalls, feigning interest in the Spanish oranges while keeping a careful ear attuned to conversations around him. Markets were often the bestplaces to gather intelligence. People spoke more freely when focused on commerce, and information flowed as readily as coins.
He was examining a display of fresh fruit when he heard a familiar voice call him.
