There was no better retreat than Pemberley Park. In truth, there was no other escape in the world that Darcy preferred to his country home, nestled in the valley of two rolling peaks and it's wilderness situated happily about it. Though he felt some guilt in leaving his sister behind with the rest of their party, he rejoiced in being so warmly welcomed by the perfect picture ahead of him. He paused atop the hill overlooking his property before kicking his horse to canter ahead. He approached the front of the house oblivious to the empty carriage that sat idly in the drive, only taking notice to it before dismounting, and handing the bridle to the awaiting stable boy, he turned to see a figure so strikingly familiar, he almost thought his heart had stopped beating altogether. There she stood, her skirts fluttering in the gentle summer breeze, the ribbons of her bonnet untied and blowing freely. Their eyes met in an instant and he only caught the flush of her cheeks as she instinctively turned away. He advanced immediately, his legs operating on their own accord to carry him to the person whom he felt such a passionate attachment to. She only turned to him again once his footsteps drew near, keeping her eyes down and away to avoid the unfamiliar look he was giving her. They met with pointed formality.

"Mr. Darcy, please allow me to apologize for importuning on your privacy," she then started hastily, "I wouldn't ha- we would not have dreamt of..." She paused, not knowing how to continue in her overwhelming embarrassment, but he calmly reassured her.

"Pray, do not trouble yourself; I had planned to arrive tomorrow, but rode ahead of my party on business, with my steward." He only hesitated at the thought of the true reason he rode ahead. Having her standing so close to him once more had his mind racing; it was hard to manage one coherent thought. She did not move to reply. She kept her gaze away, searching for any other thing to rest her eyes on besides his impossibly striking stare.

"I trust your parents are in good health," he found himself saying.

"Yes, they are, thank you."

"And your sisters?"

"They are in excellent health, sir." Her thumbs made circles around each other as she kept her fingers laced in front of her. He wanted nothing more than to hold those hands, to soothe her of any discomfort she felt, though he knew the root of her discomfort was almost definitely his sudden presence.

"How long have you been in this part of the country, Miss Bennet?"

"About two days, sir."

"And where are you staying?"

"At the inn, at Lambton."

"Oh, yes, of course." A straining pause ensued. Had he not been praying for another opportunity such as this, promising himself if the chance arose he would not stammer and loom about her as he had in their previous acquaintance? And now he stood with her, almost completely silent, giving her no outward inclination to continue conversation or that he was taking immense pleasure in her company. He only stood motionless, watching her face as her skin continued to flush pink, thinking to himself how simply wonderful it would be to gently graze that cheek with the pad of his finger.

After some moments, she explained she was in the country with her aunt and uncle and that they were just beyond with the housekeeper finishing their round about the garden. He offered her sanctuary in the house while she waited, but embarrassment would not leave her, and so she insisted she wait out on the lawn. He stood with her to wait as the elder couple made their return to the front of the house, lead by the gracious Mrs. Reynolds. He introduced himself with as much politeness as he could demonstrate; praising Derbyshire with Mrs. Gardiner as it was mutually her home county, and conversing with Mr. Gardiner on their shared interest in fishing. Elizabeth took this time to finally look up at his face, watching him interact with her most beloved kin. She had never seen him act with such ease and politeness. He was everything a gentleman to the Gardiners and herself - even his countenance had taken on an essence of tranquility she had never detected. And what was the meaning of it? Surely, it was not for her after she had insulted him so robustly to his face in their last meeting months before. She had not thought for one moment that he would take her words to heart, that he would mull everything she had said to him over and over again in his thoughts. Every remark she had made tortured him to no end with no hope of reconciliation or relief. But now, he took this chance meeting as an opportunity for redemption.

As the head gardener of the estate approached them, he turned quietly to Mrs. Reynolds, suggesting they take the most advantageous tour of the park around the lake, then took his leave to return to the house to change out of his traveling clothes. He made haste up each staircase, taking them two at a time in his long stride. He knew he had ample time enough to make himself as presentable as he wished to be and meet them again if he did not waste a single moment. He had not even called for his valet and quickly changed without assistance, darting back down the halls as he finished the buttons of his coat and skipping down the stairs in his eagerness. A hand combed through his hair as he sped out of the entry, scanning the perimeter of the lake for a sign of their whereabouts. He spotted them, just making their approach to the halfway point at the other end of the lake. He would reach them faster if he took the opposite direction.

It was obvious Elizabeth had not expected to see him again, for as he advanced from the trees that hid his approach, she started at the sight of him, only recovering with her face turned away, her hands clutching her bonnet in front of her. How very strange it was to see her act so. His Elizabeth, who so rarely held back from speaking her fearless mind, was acting with timidity and shyness. When her eyes finally lifted to his, he was not met with their usual resilience, but was instead greeted with an insecurity he could not place. He knew she was struggling with composure, but from what? From pure hatred? No, he would have seen that apprehension from the first as he had when he handed her his letter. What was it that haunted her thoughts now? There was feeling in that look, he decided, that she had never bestowed on him before, though he could not place it, and yet there remained that sparkle, that hint of mischief in her eye that always glimmered after a witty remark or when a smile could be seen peeking from her lips...

"I hope you are not displeased with Pemberley," he said to her after formally greeting the party once more.

"Indeed, I am not," Elizabeth looked up to him then, as they fell into step in front of the others. "It is very beautiful, Mr. Darcy."

"So you approve of it, then?"

"I doubt there would be many who would not approve."

"But your good opinion is rarely bestowed, and therefore, more worth the earning." He complimented her in such a tender tone she had never heard, a gentle smile on his face she had never seen, that her cheeks again began to flush, and she turned away. He had hardly heard her murmur in response a soft, "Thank you." They walked on toward the house, some moments not saying a word, but when they did make an exchange, it was with the utmost politeness and, on his part, tenderness – even if she did not detect that effort at the very first. Though he would do anything to prove himself and change her opinion of him, he knew that like him, her opinion was not an easy one to sway; he would be lucky indeed to find that she had ceased to loathe him. But she responded to him so differently now, he could not place her feelings as he could before– no, he never could place her feelings. That assumption had lead him to the very predicament he was in, he reminded himself.

They made it to the house ahead of the rest of their party; each with an avid passion for walking, their pace had been set at a considerably faster stride without their conscious attention to it, and they found themselves once again standing on the front lawn, their postures fixed straight and rigid as their minds scrambled for how to behave around the other. Darcy again inquired if she wanted to take rest in the house, to which she again politely refused, and once more they were ensconced in their silence. Quiet as they were, Elizabeth found he would not stop looking for her eyes; in his she saw his desire to speak, of what she did not know, but the look of them was unmistakeable. His lips parted for a moment as he contemplated what he wanted to say, her eyes riveting to them unconsciously. He thought to himself as he drank in her sight, that he had never beheld anything more beautiful than her picture in that moment. She stood as she did before; her skirts fluttering, the shortest tendrils of her hair whisking around her face, and her eyes staring up at him – bright with exercise and curiosity. His heart raced against his chest, beating wildly, his thoughts clouded. All of his entire world's focus was on her, and she glowed gloriously in the summer sun.