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"Of course," Elizabeth said, folding up her letter. "I must not miss the next passage of Fordyce's Sermons."

She waggled her eyebrows and Charlotte laughed, and the two headed downstairs arm in arm.

◆◆◆

Darcy wasn't sure when the idea, which had been playing on his mind for days, and in his wildest dreams every night, had become a reality. But he had not made the decision as such until he was striding towards Hunsford, foregoing the carriage or even a horse for want of time to think in the fresh air.

No, in fact, he had not even decided when he started walking. He only really decided when he stepped out of the woods and found, rather to his surprise – although perhaps it shouldn't have been – Miss Elizabeth Bennet out walking alone, the mist that still hung in the air from the morning clinging to her dark hair, her face serene and untroubled by the clouds hovering above them.

She stopped abruptly, and he saw irritation pass across her features, although he did not know why.

"Mr Darcy," she said, bowing her head.

"Miss Bennet," he said, doing the same, and suddenly his mind was made up, and yet also his mouth was dry and words escaped his head like water through a net.

"I should not tarry," Miss Bennet said. "I said I'd be back for lunch."

He nodded, and then he asked, "Might I walk with you a moment?"

She looked surprised, although they had walked together before, and she merely nodded and then turned and began to walk again, back in the direction of the parsonage.

"I hope my aunt's visit was not too taxing," he said. "My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, said you felt ill afterwards."

He glanced in her direction quickly and saw her mouth set, her jaw clenched. "I hope you are recovered."

"Quite recovered, thank you."

They walked for another moment or two in silence, the parsonage growing ever closer, his chance disappearing. For once they reached it, he could not speak to her alone, and he certainly could not say this in company.

"Miss Bennet," he said, and when she did not slow, he said it once more, louder. "Miss Bennet, could we please..."

He gestured to a bench and she raised an eyebrow, but smoothed her skirts beneath her and sat, and then looked at him expectantly.

How could a look from her make him feel like a boy, like everything was new? He had no idea what was to come.

"Miss Bennet, I must ask you to listen for a moment without interrupting. I have struggled in vain to deny my affections, but it cannot be borne. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and—"

He paused.

The word had never crossed his lips other than to those he was related to, and even then not often, but it had to be said.

"—love you."

Chapter Fifteen

Elizabeth felt frozen to the bench.

Never had she expected those words to leave his lips.

She blinked rapidly, unable to speak. He loved her? How could that be possible? This man who had destroyed Jane’s happiness claimed to be in love with her?

"In vain I have tried to push aside my feelings," he continued, "to ignore that which is between us. Your inferior rank and connections will certainly make my family question my decision. But I can no longer force myself to turn away from the truth. Miss Bennet, I must ask you – will you marry me?"

Elizabeth thought that her heart might have stopped beating entirely. The air was certainly knocked from her lungs by such a question. A question she had not expected. A question to which the answer was surely obvious.

Her whole body recoiled at the thought.

No.