The sweltering sun beat down on the fields of Pemberley as Fitzwilliam Darcy rode out on his favorite chestnut stallion. The heat was oppressive, leaving his cravat limp and his shirtsleeves damp with perspiration.
As he crested the hill towards his favorite secluded pond, a splash and a giggle caught his attention. There on the shore were a woman's clothes and undergarments, and in the pond—was that Elizabeth Bennet?
Mr. Darcy pulled up abruptly, his heart pounding. What on earth was she doing here, swimming in a state of undress?
He knew he should call out to her, announce his presence and ask her to leave at once. But in that moment he could scarcely remember his own name, let alone why her state of undress was improper. His throat seemed to close up entirely as he watched her splash and play in the pond, droplets of water sparkling on her exposed skin.
Never had he seen a woman so unclothed outdoors, much less the woman he had secretly admired from afar these past months. The sight of Elizabeth's bare form awakened a feverish desire in him that made a mockery of his vaunted self-control.
He gripped the reins of his horse, torn between leaving immediately and staying to watch her a moment longer - to commit every graceful line and curve to memory. So long had he longed for a glimpse of her unguarded loveliness. Now here she was, a vision that surpassed even his imagination, and he was helpless against the allure of her beauty.
His ungentlemanly curiosity won out, and it was not until Elizabeth turned in the water that the spell was broken - just in time for their eyes to meet, and for him to glimpse the dawning horror in her own. Her eyes grew wide and she let out a startled shriek, ducking down into the pond.
Darcy's face flamed as if it had been torched. Never had he been so ashamed, or so furious with himself and his own weakness. How had he dared to take such a liberty, ogling her without consent like some depraved voyeur? He turned his stallion to flee but it was too late.
"Mr. Darcy!" she called out, her voice filled with alarm and mortification.
His cheeks flamed as he kept his eyes steadfastly forward though his entire body strained to glance back at her. "Please accept my apologies, Miss Bennet, for intruding upon your privacy. I shall be on my way immediately."
He heard the sounds of splashing and the rustle of clothing being hastily donned. The images these sounds conjured threatened to undo him completely. His blood ran hot as he imagined the curves of her dewy skin and the drops of water trickling down her chest.
At last she called out, "You may turn around now, sir."
He did so with great difficulty, nearly groaning aloud at the sight of her. Though dressed, her hair was loose about her shoulders, strands of it clinging to the flushed skin of her neck. The memory of her half-clad figure assaulted him anew, leaving him trembling with illicit longing.
Her face was beet red. "I am the one who must apologize," Elizabeth said, her own voice unsteady. "I did not expect anyone to encounter me here." She hesitated, gazing at him with parted lips as her bosom rose and fell rapidly. "I assure you I was simply...overheated. In this heat."
The words were spoken as if in a haze, shot through with meaning beyond their ostensible purpose. Did she speak of the warmth of the day, or of the almost palpable heat smoldering between them even now? Mr. Darcy could scarce draw breath, so tightly did desire coil within him.
"Think nothing of it," he managed at last, his tone gruff with restraint. "Merely an accident, and no harm done." He swallowed hard. "I shall keep this to myself and not sully your reputation in any manner."
"I appreciate your discretion," she said softly.
They regarded each other for a long moment, flushed with equal parts mortification and something more. Mr. Darcy clenched his hands into fists, every muscle taut and trembling with the effort not to close the distance between them.
He clenched his hands into fists, struggling to master himself. How often had he dreamed of holding her, with no fabric to separate his skin from hers? At last he managed a stiff bow, tearing his gaze from hers. "Good day, Miss Bennet."
His voice was nigh unrecognizable, rough and thick with passion.
"Good day, Mr. Darcy," she replied, matching his tone.
As he rode off at a gallop, he cursed himself for a fool as his mind swam with the memory of Elizabeth rising from the water. He knew her memory would haunt his every waking hour, a sweet torment he was not sure he wanted to escape.
Elizabeth rushed back to Longbourn, trembling with anger and dismay. To think that of all people, Mr. Darcy should discover her swimming half-clothed! If she had awaited a punishment for her recklessness in seeking relief from the oppressive heat, this would be too cruel by far.
Venturing to swim in the secluded pond had been reckless, but the scorching heat had frazzled her senses. Now her impulsiveness had led to utter disaster. Even if the arrogant Mr. Darcy kept their encounter secret, as she doubted he would, the memory of it threatened to torment Elizabeth for days to come. To have been so exposed before him was intolerable. She gritted her teeth as she hastened home, wishing she could purge the memory from her mind entirely.
She knew she should not have gone swimming in a location so exposed, but the heat had been unbearable and the pond's cool embrace too tempting. The memory of Mr. Darcy's gaze upon her, startled yet heated, was seared into her mind and refused to grant her peace.
Upon arriving home, Lydia greeted her with a tease and a knowing smirk. "My dear sister, did you not find the pond quite refreshing today? I daresay you were hoping a pair of fine eyes might happen upon you!"
Elizabeth gasped, then breathed an inward sigh of relief. Lydia was only jesting, as was her habit. She did not know the truth of what had transpired.
"Do not be ridiculous," Elizabeth said sharply. "I have no intention of ruining my reputation by cavorting half-clad for the benefit of strange men."
Lydia waved a dismissive hand. "Oh come now, Lizzy, where is your sense of adventure? I am sure Mr. Wickham would not object to finding you in such a state!" She giggled again at the thought. "The look on his face would be quite diverting." Lydia laughed. "My apologies, I could not resist. I know that you are far too proper to go swimming in the altogether!"
"Just so," Elizabeth said hastily. "Now, I must lie down, for I have the beginnings of a headache."
"My apologies, dearest sister," Lydia said, though her smirk belied any real contrition. "I could not resist teasing you. I know you are determined to be dreadfully proper and serious at all times!"
With that, Lydia flounced out of the room, already distracted by some new frivolous notion. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief at her departure, grateful that her sister's selfish nature had - for once - worked in her favor. Lydia's interest in the matter had been ephemeral at best, disappearing as quickly as it had formed.
For the remainder of the day she avoided her family, not wishing to endure any more of Lydia's idle teasing. But in the solitude of her room, her mind continued to torment her with unwanted visions of Mr. Darcy, his gaze both heated and tender as he caught her in his arms...
With a start, Elizabeth shook herself. It had been improper enough to be discovered swimming unclothed, without conjuring ridiculous fantasies! Mr. Darcy was a gentleman and would never behave so lewdly. Allowing her imagination to run wild would only lead to further distress should she ever again face him.
As Elizabeth lay in bed, sleep eluded her. Again and again her thoughts drifted to Mr. Darcy her mind creating a vision of him touching her at her waist as he lifted her upon his stallion. She told herself it was only her imagination, and yet her body tingled as if his hands were there heating her skin.
At last she sat up with a groan and lit the candle at her bedside, determined to read a dull book of sermons until sleep overtook her. Anything to banish the tormenting vision of Fitzwilliam Darcy from her mind.
After hours of reading the dry, tedious text, Elizabeth's eyes at last grew heavy. She dared to hope that she had worn her imagination into submission, and that it would trouble her no more with unwanted fancies. Blowing out the candle, she settled onto her pillow in the dark.
For a time, blessed silence reigned in her mind. But as she drifted towards sleep, new visions arose unbidden - of strong arms, soft lips and a searing passion that dared not speak its name.
Despite herself, her traitorous thoughts had returned to Mr. Darcy. Yet these imaginings were not born of anger or distress, but seemed only to stoke a slow, burning warmth deep within her. Amidst her vexation, she was startled to find a strange anticipation taking root.
The next day was as sweltering as the first, the sun bearing down upon Longbourn without mercy. The heat was oppressive and irritable, putting all in poor temper—and yet Elizabeth dared not seek relief in her usual swimming spot. After the mortification of encountering Mr. Darcy, she could not risk being discovered again in such a state of undress.
When Lydia suggested they walk to the pond, Elizabeth hastily made an excuse about letters she must write. Lydia laughed. "Dearest sister, I have never known you to prefer writing letters over swimming on such a scorching day! Are you certain you are quite well?"
"Perfectly well," Elizabeth said, hoping her cheeks did not betray her. "I have simply had a change of mood."
Lydia eyed her curiously but shrugged. "More's the pity. I shall be unbearably hot and bored without you today!" She flounced off, leaving Elizabeth equal parts relieved and guilty. She did not wish Lydia to suspect anything was amiss.
The following day was hotter still, and Elizabeth's agitation grew increasingly unbearable. Though longing for the cool relief of the pond, she knew it would be madness to venture there again. Not with the boorish Mr. Darcy likely to appear without warning.
When the household settled in for their afternoon rest, the heat and anxiety within Elizabeth seemed to reach a fever pitch. Despite her better judgment, she found herself stealing away to her private sanctuary. Her heart pounding, she glanced about anxiously before removing her clothes and sliding into the blessed coolness of the pond.
As the water enveloped her, she released an immense sigh of relief. For a blissful half hour she swam at leisure, embracing the solitude and respite from the heat. Here, at least, in her secret place, she could find a measure of peace. She closed her eyes and let the worries, distress and irritation of the past days melt away. But just as she moved to leave the water, she heard the snap of a branch in the woods. She froze in alarm, straining to see through the trees.
Her heart leapt with alarm at the thought it could be Mr. Darcy again, come to chance upon her in this state and subject her to further humiliation. But no—she banished the unwelcome notion at once. It was likely just a curious deer or fox emerging from the shade.
Despite his vow to keep their first mortifying encounter secret, she did not trust his honor. Every inch of her skin still tingled, though now from wariness rather than anticipation. She listened intently for any further sounds, but the woods had gone silent and still once more.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, steeling her nerves. She had tarried here too long already in her state of undress. It was time to leave this place and return home before she truly was discovered in a scandalous position.
She began to dress in haste-but then froze at the sound of snapping branches and rustling leaves, drawing ever nearer. This was no forest creature making its way casually through the woods. This was the unmistakable sound of a man walking with purpose towards the pond. Towards her.
Her heart flew to her throat as she glimpsed a familiar tall figure emerging from the trees. Mr. Darcy strode into view, his gaze scanning the pond and shore intently until it fell upon her.
They stared at one another for a long moment, motionless.