Page 35 of Love Drunk for Mr Darcy

There it was again. Perfectly pleasant. Perfectly civil. Elizabeth reached for the teapot before she was tempted to stick her tongue out at him simply to draw out some reaction that had not been rehearsed a dozen times before.

Georgiana began telling her about a letter she had received from a friend in London and Elizabeth listened with half an ear while Darcy returned to his newspaper. He looked entirely at ease behind it, though the hand curled around his coffee cup gripped it so tightly that his knuckles were white, and she found herself irritated by the sight.

When Georgiana paused in her speech to butter a roll, Elizabeth put down her cup. "Darcy, you told me upon our journey here that there was a pool and waterfall somewhere in the grounds which your mother used to take you to as a boy."

The newspaper lowered slowly and Darcy looked at her over the top of it, eyeing her uncertainly. "I did."

"And you said you would show it to me." Elizabeth took another sip of tea, watching him over the rim of her cup. "I have now been at Pemberley for more than a week and I begin to think you have forgotten."

A crease appeared between his brows. He frowned. "I have not forgotten."

Elizabeth waited. When no further offer appeared forthcoming, she lifted her brows. "Well?"

Darcy glanced towards the small stack of correspondence beside his plate, then back at her. "I had intended to spend the morning with my steward." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I suppose he can survive without me until this afternoon."

Elizabeth tried not to look too pleased. "I should hate to be responsible for throwing Pemberley into disorder."

"I believe the estate will endure." His smile deepened as he folded the newspaper and set it aside. "If you are willing to brave the walk, I would be very happy to show you."

The teasing warmth in his voice caught her off guard. For the past week he had been so careful with her that even this small departure from their usual formality made something flutter beneath her ribs.

"I am willing," she said, trying not to smile too broadly.

✽✽✽

The path into the eastern woods began beyond the formal gardens and soon narrowed beneath the trees. The morning was cool and bright, with sunlight moving through the leaves overhead and catching in patches across the path. Elizabeth walked beside Darcy, very aware of his nearness, though conversation came easily enough once they were away from the house.

Once they left the formal gardens behind, Darcy seemed to unwind. He walked with an easier stride beneath the trees, his hands loose at his sides rather than clasped behind his back, and spoke about the estate with an ease that suited him. He told her which paths he had ridden as a boy and admitted that on fine mornings he had sometimes escaped his tutor and hidden in the woods until hunger drove him home.

Elizabeth looked at him, shocked by the revelation. "You? I cannot imagine such rebellion."

Darcy glanced across at her. "I was not born at eight and twenty years old, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth found herself watching him as much as the scenery. She also tried very hard not to notice that he had not offered her his arm. There was no reason he should. The path was broad, the ground dry and she had made it clear that she wanted him to keep some distance between them. A promise that he had honoured scrupulously. It was silly that she should feel the lack of his touch now that he was doing exactly as she had asked.

Some minutes later Elizabeth heard the water before she saw it, a low, steady rush somewhere beyond the trees. Darcy left the broader path and led her beneath a canopy of beech and oak where the light grew softer and the ground sloped gently away beneath their feet. Then the trees opened and the pool appeared below them, dark and glassy beneath the branches, fed by a narrow fall of water that slipped over a shelf of grey rock and broke into white foam before disappearing into the stillness.

Elizabeth stopped and drank in the sights and sounds of this special place. Ferns crowded thickly along the bank and moss softened the stones at the water's edge, bright green where the sunlight found it. The surface caught scattered pieces of sky between the leaves, shifting from deep green to silver whenever the breeze stirred the branches overhead. It was quieter here than anywhere else she had walked at Pemberley, and the house and gardens seemed very far away. Elizabeth could understand at once why his mother had brought him to such a place. If fairies were inclined to dance anywhere in Derbyshire, she thought, they could hardly have chosen better.

"Oh," she said, turning to Darcy with a smile she could not contain. "It is beautiful."

Darcy was not looking at the pool at all. "As are you."

He said it quietly, almost absently, but so sincerely that she could only gape at him. Then Darcy turned and began to make his way along the edge of the water, choosing his footing carefully where the moss thickened over the stones. He did not glance back to see what effect he had produced. Her heart was thudding in her chest as she gathered her skirts and followed him, trying to recover some dignity before he turned around again. It was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile this version of Darcy with the stiff, disapproving man she had known at Netherfield.

The path narrowed where the bank curved around the pool and Darcy moved slowly ahead of her, placing his boots carefully on the damp stones to test their soundness.

"You are being very cautious," she said, aiming for a light tone.

"I have no wish to fall in," Darcy said, glancing back at her, "and even less wish to see you do so."

Elizabeth smiled. "How gallant."

"How practical. Georgiana would never let me forget it. And she certainly would not forgive me if I returned you sodden and at risk of a cold."

He stepped onto the next stone and held out his hand to her. "Come carefully. These are slick."

Elizabeth placed her hand in his, though not before her mind supplied a thoroughly unhelpful image of Darcy climbing from the pool in nothing but a fine lawn shirt, soaked through and clinging indecently to his chest. She looked away at once and concentrated very firmly on her footing. His hand closed around hers as he guided her onto the next stone. Elizabeth had just put her weight onto it when her boot slid sideways on the moss. She gave a startled cry and pitched towards him, catching at his coat as Darcy grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him.