Page 223 of What Change Entails

“You do not presume alone.” She reached up and touched his cheek.

“It has been a severe trial.”

Elizabeth glanced toward Longbourn, then back to Darcy. “We are in sight of three counties.”

“Merely one, I believe.”

“That does not improve matters sufficiently.”

“No.”

He did not move closer.

That was the trouble. He had become very good at restraint, and Elizabeth had begun to resent restraint in particular circumstances.

She stepped nearer.

His eyes darkened.

“Elizabeth.”

“I have missed you.”

The words left her without ornament.

She could see the struggle in him: propriety, desire, reverence, the memory of all they had risked already. She loved him for the struggle and would have loved him more had he lost it.

Instead, he raised her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, the kiss lingering through her glove.

It was not enough.

It would have to be enough.

For now.

They began walking down the mount toward the lane, slower than necessary.

“When did you arrive?” Elizabeth asked.

“At Netherfield? This morning.”

“And you waited until afternoon?”

“I had a few mishaps along the way and needed to recover.” Darcy recounted how his horse had lost a shoe more than once, and that at one inn, there had not been a mount available, which required him to wait until the following day to continue. Rain had further hampered his journey. “I needed to make myself presentable enough that your mother would not refuse me entry on the grounds of appearing like a highwayman.”

“She might have preferred that. It would be exciting.”

“I shall remember that if gentility fails.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Some.”

“Fitzwilliam.”

He smiled tiredly at her. “Not much.”

“You should have rested.”