Elizabeth and Darcy proceeded quietly for some time, she enjoying the cool moist green of the trees, he enjoying her company. At length, she said,
"I do thank you for saving my sister from disgrace. It would be too dreadful to have Mr. Wickham as a brother-in-law."
"I hope I have saved you from that fate, Mrs. Darcy. But seeing him covered in mud was really its own reward. Thanks are not necessary. "
"Covered in mud? Oh now I do wish I had not been so busy with Lydia. I should have liked to see that." Darcy promptly offered to re-enact the event for her pleasure, which she regretfully refused.
"I should write and tell Mrs. Romney of the encounter, she would enjoy it very much, I think."
"Her only regret might be not having pushed the ladder herself. She is a formidable woman."
"I fear you must reckon her quite the shrew, for she seemed to intimidate you greatly."
"I was of a mind to be intimidated on your behalf," he answered calmly.
"Oh, poor Mr. Darcy. At the mercy of all women everywhere."
"I shall always be at your mercy, Mrs. Darcy." They proceeded a bit further in silence, but Elizabeth's victory of words over Caroline had given rise to a great playfulness.
"Do you think you shall cease dancing altogether now that you are a married man? I recall that you have no great liking for the practice."
"I will dance as often as my wife will let me stand up with her, though I scandalize the company by dancing all the evening with my own spouse."
"For shame, Mr. Darcy," she remonstrated in mocking tones. "What will Lady Catherine de Bough think when such news reaches the hallowed halls of Rosings?"
Darcy said his aunt could think whatever she liked. They had reached a meadow and began to walk across it. Smiling, Elizabeth reached for his arm.
"And will you dance with me now, Mr. Darcy?" He looked surprised for a moment, then recovered and bowed deeply.
"I would be honored, Mrs. Darcy," and swept her into a tight waltz spin.
The ground was flat and grassy beneath their feet, and Elizabeth felt nothing but the press of her husband against her. He felt giddy with his daring, but trusting to his love's high spirits. They spun across the meadow, dancing to music playing only in their minds, entranced by each other's gaze.
A slight stumble on a mole hole cautioned Darcy, and he stopped, still holding her against him. She clung to him, her head still spinning with the motion.
"I heard a young scoundrel was thrown from Almack's for trying to introduce the waltz," she said.
"Well that he should, for it is a most inappropriate dance."
"Why is that, Mr. Darcy?"
"It makes dancers think thoughts best reserved for the marriage bed."
Upon reflection, Darcy thought a blush suited his wife very well indeed.