Page 4 of Twice Chosen

"Then perhaps it was never quite as simple as you wished."

"It should have been."

"There you are."

Darcy frowned. "Where?"

"Still proud."

He stared at her in wounded dignity. "I am sitting beside my dying wife and being criticized."

Elizabeth's eyes brightened. "I am dying. You are merely being dramatic."

For a glorious instant he looked offended. She laughed, but the laugh became a cough before she could stop it. Darcy immediately moved, sliding an arm behind her shoulders and helping her upright.

"Easy," he murmured, all teasing gone. "Do not try to speak."

The fit left her exhausted. When it finally passed, Elizabeth rested against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. "I am tired."

Darcy's arm tightened around her. "I know."

She closed her eyes. For a time neither moved.

Then Elizabeth said, "Do you know what I would keep?"

Darcy's answer came close to her ear. "Everything."

"No. The first time you smiled at me."

"At Pemberley?"

"No."

"Hunsford?"

She gave him a look. "Certainly not."

"Netherfield?"

"The assembly."

Darcy frowned. "I did not smile at you at the assembly."

"You nearly did."

"I did not."

"I saw it."

"You imagined it."

"For fifty years?"

"Your imagination has always been persistent."

Elizabeth laughed softly. His thumb moved over her hand again--once, twice, three times.

I am here.