The ripples on the river glistened under the morning sun. A soft and gentle breeze whispered against her skin. Elizabeth waited under the tree, a myriad thoughts storming in her mind despite her outward calm.
The accusations hurled her way the day before had offended her - and grieved her, even more. She was no stranger to misunderstandings. As one of five daughters from a rather impoverished family, she had been accustomed to the curious looks and condescending glances all her life. To hear such professions from a man she considered a friend, however, struck her much more deeply.
Had her eagerness to exhibit the best side of herself promoted an inappropriate misunderstanding? Had her desire to display ladylike behavior beyond her station led Mr. Darcy to think her pretentious or facetious in any way?
Elizabeth looked down.
It was foolish of her to believe herself worthy of any sort of esteem from anyone in the Fitzwilliam clan. Despite her lack of romantic aspirations, she had allowed herself certain hopes - of friendship, of associations that may outlast her visit to Kent.
As a woman who prided herself greatly on her prudence, Elizabeth despised herself for feeling the disappointment she did at all.
"Miss Elizabeth," the voice she had anticipated all morning finally emerged beside her.
She turned to face him - and gasped.
"Mr. Darcy, you look - " She took a sliver of a moment to collect herself. "Did you rest ill, sir?"
His grim smile rather contradicted the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"I suppose I did," he stated lowly.
She sighed, her shoulders lowering themselves of their own accord. "I - I am glad to see you, sir."
"You are?"
She steeled herself, committed to honesty. "I had feared that you would rather not see me after - recent events."
"If anything, Miss Elizabeth, it is I who owe you an apology." He sounded so different - so humble and sincere - that she nearly asked if he had replaced himself with another person altogether.
Elizabeth pursed her lips.
"I fear that I, grounded in my fears regarding women's intentions, allowed myself to accuse you of intentions you have so very clearly never exhibited. How can I, being no woman myself, assume to understand how the fairer sex operates? It is my hubris that spoke so to you, and for that I must apologize."
Elizabeth inhaled deeply before releasing her breath. "I forgive you, Mr. Darcy."
"Thank you." He surprised her by grasping her hands. "I - I understand that I do not deserve pardon so freely given."
It was her turn to smile grimly at him. "The quality of true mercy, sir, is never strained."
He smiled, more fully, at her allusion - and they resumed their usual morning walk with a much fonder tone than they usually shared.
"Surely, you must have had your share of admirers yourself," Mr. Darcy remarked after she had recounted, with sisterly pride, the story of how Jane had turned every eye at the assembly last fall.
Elizabeth smiled. "I fear very few notice the sparrow, when much more colorful and engaging plumes are displayed beside it."
"You doubt your own charms, Miss Elizabeth?"
She chuckled. "I merely own them with every frankness. Very few people, I'm afraid, admire the presence of a quick mind and an even quicker tongue on a woman. My preference for nature causes my coloring to be almost entirely different from my sisters'. I cannot paint or draw a decent image, and my playing can hardly be construed as skillful by any measure. I can hardly fault young gentlemen for appreciating what is most easily appreciated."
Mr. Darcy pulled their linked arms - and, by consequence, her whole body - slightly closer. "You are too harsh on yourself, ma'am."
"I most certainly am not."
"I fear I would not have survived these weeks with my aunt without the daily assurance of your presence."
She laughed. He may well be spouting kind words in an effort to compensate for his aggression the day before, but she did not doubt his genuine displeasure with the woman who presided over Rosings Park.
"And yet you faithfully come every year."
Mr. Darcy sighed, his free hand patted the gloved fingers she had perched on his arm. "Indeed, I do."
"Do you truly find no pleasure whatsoever in your visits? Kent can have its charms."
"Charms that wear thin on me, I'm afraid."
She looked sadly upon him, as she often did whenever he displayed this rare vulnerability.
Be it appearances or wealth, alliances or health - Mr. Darcy had always commanded them all. It was therefore particularly precious whenever his weaknesses and imperfections seeped through, almost as if the creases on his brow were necessary to remind her that he was human, and not perfectly chiseled marble.
"I suppose we are all rather overtired by the supposed charms of what is most familiar to us." She followed her statement with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "It is rather unfair to assume that everything and everyone improves upon acquaintance."
"Unlike you."
"Sir?"
"Unlike you - who seems to only ever improve upon acquaintance."
Now, Elizabeth laughed. "That was hardly your belief yesterday, sir."
He dutifully bowed his head. "You wound me, Miss Elizabeth, by reminding of my deepest faults."
It was her turn to add to their attached hands. "That is hardly what I intend, sir. Please - do be reasonable."
"Am I unreasonable?" He turned to face her right before they turned back towards the path. The angle of his turn caused him to stand close, so very close, before her. The brim of his hat hovered over the space between them. His eyes - grey yet green, searching and piercing - bore into her own. Her heart sped, almost as if she was racing - for what, she did not know.
"Unreasonable?" She echoed.
"Am I unreasonable to you, Miss Elizabeth?" He whispered. There was a newness to his tone with her today.
It was as if she had dove through the shallower waters of his outward trappings - and was currently entangled with the mysteries of his depths.
"I - I can hardly say," she muttered.
"I suppose I have been."
"Unreasonable, sir?"
"Yes," he said lowly.
For a fleeting moment, he appeared lost in his own thoughts.
She did not know if she imagined it, but he seemed to be hovering ever closer with every passing breath.
"I fear, my dearest Miss Elizabeth, that I have done you great injustice," he confessed, with a layer of inexplicable grief in his words.
"I - I have forgiven you - have I not?"
"I - " His hands flew to her shoulders. He held her tightly, though gently still.
She swallowed.
"I have not treated you as you deserved," he continued to ramble, "but Elizabeth, oh Elizabeth - I swear - I shall only treat you as you deserve from this day forward."
The man who seemed so perfect to many - the man she enjoyed calling a true friend - was unraveling before her.
And Elizabeth stood where she stood, inches from him, utterly baffled.
"I - I suppose that is good - Mr. Darcy."
"Oh, but Elizabeth," he said with great passion - before he pulled her close and kissed her.
Her eyes popped wide open in surprise at his gesture.
Then slowly, she softened, and her eyelids fell.
It was not a deep kiss, nor a playful one. It was neither the sort one would read in a novel nor the sort one would see stolen between teasing young lovers in a silly country game. But it was pleasant, and it was dear.
And soon, he let go.
She panted as they exchanged glances, speechless for the very first time in her life.
Then he bowed, and she curtsied, and they each went their own way.
"Are you certain you shall be well on your own?" Charlotte had asked, with her usual gentle kindness, before the party left for their afternoon appointment at Rosings. Elizabeth had nodded, despite her headache, and rather sighed a sigh of relief once the rest of the parsonage's occupants had trickled out the door.
It had been a difficult morning, with the surprise of Mr. Darcy's parting still lingering on her mind and on her lips.
She did indeed feel a throbbing in her head, although the gravity of her condition had been an exaggeration she guiltily allowed Charlotte to believe.
Things were perhaps simpler this way, given that she was hardly ready to reconvene with the one man who had ever managed to cause her heart to flutter as it did.
Finally alone, Elizabeth rested her head against the parlor window. The servants bustled about in the back of the house, preparing the usual fare for the unusually high number of parsonage occupants of late. The afternoon sun caused the temperature of the room to rise every quarter of an hour. The lack of wind caused the garden view to remain as still as a painting.
It was a dry and hollow day - save for the turmoil in her heart.
The sound of an opening door drew Elizabeth's attention away from the staleness of her view. She rushed to her feet.
"Mr. Fitzwilliam." She curtsied.
He bowed deeply, with a twitching, though affable, smile. "I had heard of your condition and wished to inquire after your health."
Elizabeth nodded, rather nervously. "I am doing well. Thank you for your kindness, sir."
His smiled brightened as he helped himself to a seat beside her. Slowly, she resumed her former spot.
"I am surprised to see you here," she remarked politely, her mind rather too muddled to be ready for any sort of conversation.
He continued to smile. "I had been hoping for a chance to speak to you, Miss Elizabeth."
"I see."
"About certain circumstances that I hope will bring happiness to the both of us."
She glanced hesitatingly at him. It was neither the time nor place to reexamine her interactions with the man before her; and yet, as always, the young man did not seem to notice anything amiss about her mood.
"Is that so?" She braved the topic.
"You see, Miss Elizabeth, despite having been forewarned by my cousin, it is my belief that you and I suit most perfectly - and that we would make each other most happy if we were to keep each other's company for the rest of our days."
Elizabeth bit her lip. She breathed deeply. "Mr. Fitzwilliam, perhaps you - "
"Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
She observed him then - a simple-minded man with endless optimism, unlimited candor, and an utterly elementary view of life.
She faulted Mr. Darcy slightly for supposedly forewarning his cousin of his doomed suit, but perhaps the fact was only further proof that the childlike colonel never truly noticed the things occurring around him.
"Sir," Elizabeth began, alternating her eyes between her lap and the man before her. "I fear - I fear I cannot accept."
The smile on his face, so permanent before, faltered slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
"I - " Elizabeth stood and walked across the room. Her head throbbed more. She tolerated it. "I cannot accept."
"You reject me?"
"I - " Elizabeth closed her eyes, sighed, and turned around. "I'm afraid I do."
He looked back towards her, his face blank. There was no hint of sorrow, nor of surprise.
If anything, he appeared dumbfounded.
"Sir?"
"I should have known." The colonel leaned forward and ruffled his own hair. "I - Darcy always did know women better."
Elizabeth frowned sadly towards him, unable to voice a single word of comfort.
"I had thought myself right - and his observations wrong. I - " The man continued to ramble. "I should have believed him. His experience with women far surpasses my own, and his abilities to divine their thoughts have always been stronger."
Elizabeth allowed the young man to continue.
"I have always believed him before - and yet I - if I had but - well, there are reasons, I suppose, that he is best known as The Matchbreaker."
"The Matchbreaker?"
The earl's son regarded her then, looking slightly more his usual self. He sported a half smile. "I suppose you didn't know."
"I fear I do not understand you."
"Darcy has always been good with women, and he aids families by warding away ill-appointed suitors for their daughters. He distracts women easily with his position and charm, and many a lady has been spared unequal alliances due to his interference."
"I see."
"His intervention does not always take the same form, of course. God knows how many favors he's done for Bingley - so constantly attached to new ladies he is."
"Mr. Bingley - your friend?"
The colonel nodded. Rambling about his cousin seemed to restore the color to his cheeks. "It is perhaps good for those of us in his inner circle, I suppose, to benefit from his keen sense of observation regarding the fairer sex. Alas, I did not listen."
He sighed deeply, stood, and brushed off his clothes.
"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for your kindness and time."
Elizabeth nodded mutely. It took her great effort to mutter, "I apologize for any sadness I may have caused, sir."
The colonel smile. "It does not matter. Have a good day, Miss Elizabeth."
"And you, Mr. Fitzwilliam."
A/N: So it's Richard who proposes at Hunsford this time, and he reveals very pertinent information as always. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As for that kiss, I totally didn't plot it. It just happened. Sometimes, the characters insist!