Page 113 of Twice Chosen

They rode north into a future neither memory nor love could fully predict.

Before they left Hertfordshire for Pemberley after the wedding, Elizabeth asked Darcy to walk with her one last time to Oakham Mount. The day was colder than the one on which they had finally admitted the truth, and the path had become slick with fallen leaves.

Darcy offered his arm before the incline steepened.

Elizabeth took it. "You did not do that the first time we walked here."

"I was twenty-eight and foolish."

"You are twenty-eight now."

"Chronology continues to be a poor argument."

She laughed.

At the top they stood beneath the oak that had sheltered their reunion. Nothing marked the place. No carving. No stone. No evidence that two people had once stood there and discovered death had failed to separate them.

Elizabeth touched the bark. "Should we mark it?"

Darcy looked alarmed. "Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because Lydia would find it within a week, invent a romance, and tell the whole county."

Elizabeth considered. "True."

"Also, I prefer that it belongs only to us."

Her teasing faded.

Darcy came beside her. "There will be other places in this life. We do not need to turn every memory into a monument."

Elizabeth looked toward Longbourn in the distance. "I am going to miss them."

"We will return."

"I know."

"Your mother will ensure it."

Elizabeth laughed. "She will probably arrive at Pemberley before we do."

Darcy looked genuinely concerned.

"I am joking."

"With your mother, that does not reassure me."

They began down the hill slowly.

Halfway, Elizabeth stopped. "William, do you think I am doing better with them?"

Darcy knew exactly whom she meant.

"Yes."

"Mary?"