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Finally, I heard the knocker and the door opened. She entered the room with a soft smile for me and a friendly look for my sister. I performed the introductions, then Elizabeth sat next to Georgiana and in a matter of minutes had drawn her into conversation. Mrs. Monroe sat near me and we talked of banal nothings. Or perhaps the conversation was scintillating, but I would not have known. I could only hear Elizabeth and the gentle way she encouraged my shy sister out of her shell.
Finally, the usual time for a call came and went and Mrs. Monroe rose to leave. I asked if I might escort Elizabeth about the garden for a time and then see her home. Mrs. Monroe smiled indulgently and agreed, and Elizabeth took my arm with flushed cheeks.
“You are terribly obvious, you know,” she said.
“I was not trying to be deceptive.”
She shook her head and moved a little closer to me. “It is cold today. I had hoped the temperate weather would hold out, but it smells like snow.” She tipped her head back and inhaled deeply. “Do you smell that?”
“I do,” I said, my voice strained. I did not know why seeing her in such a simple setting as my back garden affected me so, but I was desperate to be close to her. “Elizabeth,” I whispered. I did not what else I could say. I wanted to beg her to allow me to hold her close and press her body to mine, but it was hardly the thing one said to a lady one was not even engaged to.
“Are you well, Fitzwilliam?”
“Come.” I took her hand and pulled her deep into the garden. There were benches scattered throughout, some under bare trees, others tucked into evergreen bushes. I led her to the most secluded of those and ducked behind the shrubbery.
“What are you doing?” she asked on a laugh. Her eyes were bright and her hair shone in the sunlight.
“Stealing a kiss.” I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, only briefly, and pulled back to see her reaction.
She smiled sweetly at me and said, “You cannot steal what is freely given.”
I could resist no longer. I pulled her to me and wrapped my arms tightly about her. She nestled into my chest, her cheek resting just below my shoulder. Her arms stole about my back and she pulled me closer. I inhaled when I felt her embrace and squeezed her tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I love your hair,” I said.
“Do you?”
“Yes. I cannot wait to see it unbound.”
I felt her shudder, but she said nothing about our implied future intimacy. I realized then that I was not on my way to being in love with her—I was in love with her already.
Unsure if I should say anything or not, I battled within my own mind until I felt Elizabeth shift. “Forgive me. You must be cold,” I said.
“No, I am not cold,” she said. “Mr. Darcy, there is something we must speak of.”
She looked serious so I tugged her down to the bench and sat beside her. “What is it, my dear?”
“Do you care for me?” she asked simply.
“What? Of course I care for you!”
“Would you protect me if the need arose?”
“Of course.”
“Would you hold a confidence of mine, even if you hated me?”
“I cannot imagine myself hating you, but yes. My honor is not dependent on my liking or hating a person.”
She nodded nervously.
“Dearest, you may tell me anything. It is all right.”
She looked into my eyes and I saw real fear there, and for a moment I wondered if there was something truly terrible she needed to tell me. Was she promised to someone else? Had her father said he would refuse his consent?
“When you came to Town, what condition was your cousin in?” she asked.
I looked at her in confusion and said, “He was in a very bad way. The wound was infected and it was spreading.”
