Darcy was impatient. Once he had set his mind to something, he wanted to do it there and then. He could see no benefit to waiting. Alexander Willis could sense the urgency in him as they rode out around the edges of the estate, flexing his hand, his attention diverted. He knew Darcy of old, even if their acquaintance in this capacity was fairly recent.

"Are you alright, sir?"

Darcy looked up, he was distracted, fumbling with the rein in his hand. Too busy thinking about getting back to Pemberley, and how he was going to say the words and offer his hand, later this evening.

"Yes," he nodded unconvincingly, before distracting himself with the business in hand. "We are selling twenty acres at the edge of the estate for a… what did you say it was?"

"A mill, sir."

"Cotton?"

"Yes. Hunt plans to divert the river and dam it."

"Mr Hunt from Moreton?"

"The very same," Willis confirmed.

"I like this idea, it could be very beneficial for us too," Darcy said firmly.

"Sir?"

"Yes," he has decided now. "Tell Hunt we give him the twenty acres for free, and lend him the men that he will need, but I want twenty-five percent ownership of his mill and the opportunity to buy him out within three years if he does not turn a profit."

"Erm…alright," Willis said. "Any provisions?"

"I want wool, not cotton."

"You think he will oblige? Hunt seemed fairly certain that he was interested in the land only."

"Hunt has debts already, he has not the capital nor the credit to fund such a project. He will accept."

Willis was used to working for landowners who were arrogant and ineffectual, but Darcy knew the land around Pemberley like the back of his hand, there was not a farmer, nor a labourer, nor a shopkeeper who he hadn't spoken to. His care and attention meant that the people who lived on the land and in the local villages were incredibly loyal to the Darcy family. If fortune ever fell differently, Willis secretly though that would make a very good steward. The two men had worked together now for the past twelve months, had built up a friendship. Darcy was even godfather to the youngest Willis, a tiny six-month old girl called Viola, after the Shakespearian heroine. They cantered out to the edge of the estate. Darcy had recently purchased a new horse for Willis, a strapping chestnut stallion called Atlas, perfect for thundering up and down the country.

"And why wool, and not cotton?"

"Willis, you know my opinion on the cotton trade."

"There is more money in it."

"Aye, but at what cost? I will not wager my own soul on a few extra pounds to be made at the expense of another. Besides Napoleon is rumbling again, and I feel it will not be long before we find ourselves embroiled. The trade routes will see the brunt of it, especially if the French get help from America and opening ourselves to cotton leaves us open to risk."

"I see your point," Darcy was always right. "You do not fancy yourself back in uniform?"

Darcy shuddered at the remembrance of his time on the battlefield, something pressed upon him by his father, and something he was in no hurry to repeat. He shook his head.

"I do," Willis continued, "but my wife would never allow it."

"A wise woman indeed, and how is Mary, keeping well?"

"Aye," he said, as they began the short descent towards the trout lakes, hooves clicking gently on the well-worn path, which was dusty after the heat of the summer. The path dipped against the curve of the land, before rising again, on the right a group of labourers were tending to sheep, halting their work for a moment to doff their caps as Mr Darcy passed by.

"And the children? Viola?"

"She is getting stronger by the day," he said, the birth had been tricky, the child deemed unlikely to survive by Dr Jeffries, the Darcy family physician.

"Excellent news. You know, Alexander, I really do approve of your wife. Clever, educated, remarkably accomplished… and honest! Why, I remember those debates we had, she schooled us both."

"Mary bears no issue with telling me exactly how it is," Willis said with a grin, "and I, for one, would not have it any other way."

"She is a good woman, although, keep an eye on your purse. Mr Wickham Sr's wife was very nonchalant regarding the family finances, which explains their current situation."

"Ah, they are two vastly different women," he laughed, "although I wish she were half as good a cook."

"You are a very lucky man."

"I am," he said. "I thank the Lord every day for the blessing."

Darcy nodded in agreement, then silence. Alexander knew he was pondering a great question.

"…and…"

Here it was.

"…did you," he continued, "…did you know straight away?"

Willis scoffed a little, "Fitzwilliam Darcy are you, a man who makes every decision based on reason, calculations, and common sense, asking if I fell completely in love with my wife when I first saw her?"

"I am."

Darcy flushed, he was not one to reveal the secrets of his heart, but his parents had made a love match, and he knew this was what he wanted for himself. It would be easy to marry the daughter of a Duke or an Earl, indeed this was what his father had done, but he wanted more than a mutually beneficial match even if it would have been the easier option.

Willis paused for a moment, the Darcy he knew now was a different creature to the one imbued with confidence and swagger at Cambridge. There was something unsettled about him; even with all of his wealth and status.

"I did know straight away."

"You did?"

"I did," he repeated. "There were the other implications of it, of course, Mary came from a good family like my own, she was educated far beyond the usual spectrum for young ladies, although do not expect a neatly embroidered pair of slippers from her. But, if you are asking would I have married her if she had nothing at all then, yes. I wouldn't hesitate."

"You wouldn't?"

"Not at all." They trotted on over the bridge that crossed the stream, "Mary challenges me every day, she forces me to be a better man. For her, for our family and, even though I should not admit it, for myself."

"A man should be grateful for such a woman."

"And you, Darcy? Have you found such a woman? Miss Godwin is exceptionally beautiful, no doubt she would decorate the Great Hall of Pemberley most handsomely."

"Aye," he smiled.

"And have you received the approval yet of Miss Georgiana? I heard that her opinion was the one that mattered most." Willis raised a questioning eyebrow.

Darcy took a deep breath, "no, not yet."

It would be the final hurdle on this great race, but should it feel this tenuous, this desperate…? Like he needed to snatch it hard and hold it close before it all disappeared. He wasn't sure. He loved the idea of Jemima in his house, in his arms, in his bed, wanted her closer than the arm's length that she was now kept at. He had known women before, of course, schooled in the art of lovemaking by an older woman in the tenement rooms in the small street in Cambridge, and then perfected his craft with the blue-eyed girl in Cairo, who loved the gold buttons on his uniform, and telling him exactly what to do so she would arch her back and make noises like those he had never heard before. He wanted Jemima, wanted to peel away those pretty muslins she wore, wanted to press himself against her, bury his face deep into the crook of her neck and breathe her in. He felt himself stir slightly at the thought of it, for it had been a long time since he had left the banks of the Nile.

Willis was unsure about Darcy's silence, could sense his master and friend thinking about something. Alexander himself, though perfectly charmed by Miss Godwin, wondered if Darcy, who had so often been alone, had been seduced by the idea of having a wife, rather than the reality of choosing a woman with whom he could have a life. He wondered if, knowing the pressure that the Fitzwilliams has placed on his friend to provide an heir to the vast Darcy estates, the young man had hastily picked a wife who was very much like a blooming hothouse flower, and who would wilt and fade as quickly, particularly in the affections of her husband.

"And when are you thinking of making your proposal to Miss Godwin?" Willis knew that Mary would press him for all of the details when he returned home later that evening, would want to know everything before the rest of the Pemberley, who she deigned herself above in rank.

"I was thinking after dinner," Darcy said hesitantly, as if he were searching for an approval rather than simply conveying information. He fumbled in his pocket for the velvet pouch. "I know it's a trifle, but I brought back a piece of my mother's jewellery when I last returned from town."

The men stopped on the path, to the left of them was Knight's Low, the small wood to the East of the hall that was supposedly haunted by a medieval ancestor and his ill-fated bride. Darcy tipped out the ring into his gloved hand, before passing it over for inspection.

"This was your mother's?"

It was small and delicate, rather like the pictures of the Lady Anne herself, with a rectangular sapphire in the centre, surrounded by smaller pearls. He recalled seeing it on one of the portraits hung in the Great Hall, with the dark haired, dark eyed Lady Anne smiling genially, no doubt happy at her great fortune in marrying the kind-hearted George, who adored her.

"Aye," he nodded. "Will it suffice, do you think? Would the lady expect more?"

Alexander smiled, carefully handing the ring back. "It will definitely do."

"Good," he said, tucking it back into his pocket for safekeeping.

"But why the token? You are not required to offer anything except your hand, Darcy. A ring might be considered frivolous amongst your party."

"It's a mere trifle, something to express my sentiment… and love, of course. Besides which, once she is Mrs Darcy, the whole collection of jewels will be at her disposal."

"Well, I sincerely hope she says yes to you, and not to the Darcy diamonds."

"I think we would struggle to find any woman who wouldn't say yes to the Darcy diamonds."

"Maybe the perfect woman for you is the woman who would say no to all of this!" He caught a look pass across his friend's face. "Do you doubt your proposal, Darcy?"

"No," he shook his head. "But, when one has always been given everything they ever asked for, it makes it harder when one is spurned based on the basis of their own faults. That is my concern. People will always want Darcy, but they would happily reject Fitzwilliam."

His father had often joked that this mother has been reticent in her affections, until presented with a gift from the Darcy vault – a glittering assembly of gems set in gold - the same piece he held in his hands now, but he knew, more than anyone else, of the secret laughter and love they had shared; how George had called Anne 'his angel', and how the loss of her had taken a part of him too. The ring wasn't just a token, it was part of a love story, and he hoped it would bless him with the same fortune in matrimony.

"You always choose wisely," Willis said, with a smile. "Everything will be alright and turn out as it should. Trust me, I'm your steward!"

Darcy smiled, a laugh escaping from him and the two men began their journey again. In the distance the bells of St Mary's Church in Lambton begin to chime, and Fitzwilliam wondered if they would sound as joyful when he left that happy place with Jemima Godwin as his wife.