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I t was decided between Jane and Elizabeth that they would take their leave after tea. In the interim, their trunks were being packed, their belongings were being gathered, and a note had been dispatched to Longbourn asking for the Bennet’s carriage to be sent for. Now that her appetite had been sated, Elizabeth found her desire for a good, brisk walk returning, and as soon as could excuse herself to go upstairs, she asked Hala to dress her for the outdoors.

Wrapped in two thick shawls and a burgundy fur-lined cloak, Elizabeth was looking rather well-padded as she donned her boots and hat, and promised only to venture as far as the front gardens if she insisted on walking out alone. The weather was bitingly chilly, but Lizzy felt very little of it, covered as she was from head to toe in wool and fur. She walked, or rather waddled, at a swift pace and could almost feel the blood heat in her veins after days of inactivity even as her muscles ached and the cold numbed her nose. Her breathing was laboured, her bergère sat crookedly over her head and wisps of her hair had come out of her updo, trailing down her cheeks and falling into her eyes even as she blew the locks away with her breath.

This was the image of her that Mr. Darcy came across when learning from one of the footmen of Miss Braxton’s location, he followed her out to the gardens. She stopped abruptly when she saw him approaching, and her cheeks, already pink from the cold and the exercise, seemed to only darken further when she noted the darkness in his gaze. Mr. Darcy had intimidatingly sharp eyes, and often, she felt as if he was scrutinising her instead of just looking. If she did not know better, she would wonder if he was cataloguing her faults, but she did know that if nothing else, he at least found her countenance appealing, and so could not help but wonder what he was thinking whenever he looked at her in the way that he did.

“Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied; he bowed. She waited for him to say something. He did not. Huffing softly in exasperation, for never had she met a man with whom she could simultaneously be both at ease and uncomfortable, Elizabeth decided she must help him along, “Have you too come out for a solitary walk, sir?”

“Yes-” Darcy shook his head, “No, I mean- Yes, I wanted to walk, but- that is- I was hoping to walk with you.” His hand twitched, the tops of his ears turning a little pink, “If you would not mind the company, that is.”

Elizabeth smiled, “Not at all.” I will not become flustered, she told herself firmly, even as her heart skipped a beat at his uncharacteristic agitation. He looked very young to her in that moment- less a full-grown man and master of his own estate and more an unsure boy, young enough to still be in school.

Mr. Darcy came forward, offering her his arm, and she took it even as it meant having to take her hands out of the folds of her shawls. She had forgotten her gloves in her rush to ready herself, and was loath to bring them out of her cloak and expose them to the cold air, but it would be rude to not accept his escort and, if she was truly being honest with herself, Mr. Darcy had very firm arms, and she liked holding them very well whenever she got the chance.

The gentleman, thankfully, did not need to be prompted once again into conversation, and as soon as they had started walking, he began speaking by bringing up the Netherfield ball,

“I had been hoping to ask you for a dance myself,” He said, “I would be honoured if you would grant me your third.”

Elizabeth knew she ought not to, but she could not help but tease him, “Are you quite sure you could tolerate it? Dancing with a lady of my consequence, or rather, the lack of my consequence?”

She grinned impishly as she directed this comment at him, to make sure he knew that she was only being arch, and no longer took any offence to his comment, but Mr. Darcy’s cheeks still flushed red in mortification, and he stopped walking abruptly,

“I am so very sorry that you heard me speak in such a repugnant fashion that night at the assembly. I have no excuse other than to say that I was in a ghastly mood when I uttered those words and was determined to be displeased by anyone I saw. Indeed, I have wanted to apologise for my slanderous comment ever since I realised that you had heard it.”

“Oh, you must not become so serious, sir!” Elizabeth cried, for she had not expected him to respond so vehemently, “For any injury you might have caused with your statement, you have made amends ten times over with your valiant rescue at the lake. I really only meant to joke, Mr. Darcy. Though, I am starting to understand you are not the kind of man one can easily make sport of.”

“I am certainly not in the habit of it.” Darcy replied stiffly, feeling a bit offended.

Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes crinkling cheerily in the corners, and he felt himself melting against her merriment, “That is a shame, sir.” She said softly, “for I dearly love to laugh.”

And I dearly love to hear it. Darcy did not say. Instead, he shuffled his feet, and then clearing his throat, asked again, “Will you then, despite my boorish words at the assembly, grant me a dance at the ball?”

“I would love to, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy grinned, feeling lighter after having finally apologised, and was just about to start walking again when the expression on Miss Braxton’s face gave him pause. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks pink, and her lips parted in a small ‘oh’. Her gaze was focused on his mouth, and Darcy’s smile froze on his face, his heart racing because of the way she was looking at him,

“Miss Braxton?” He asked, a little hesitantly.

Elizabeth blinked, then blinked again rapidly to clear her head. There was a reason he did not smile as freely or as frequently as most people, she realised . If common folk were subjected to it too often, nobody in the world would be able to get anything done . Mr. Darcy’s smile was a fearsome thing indeed. Shaking her head, she looked away from her companion, and started walking again to distract herself from the strongest, strangest impulse to place her own lips over his,

“Did you know-” She started, and did not know where that question was going, for before she could continue, she felt her toe hit a large root and with a rather undignified squeak , she lost her footing. Elizabeth closed her eyes tight, preparing herself for an embarrassing meeting with cold, hard ground, but instead of feeling the impact of wet grass and the dense dirt beneath it, she collided instead with Mr. Darcy’s divine-smelling greatcoat, both his hands holding on to her arms in support.

Darcy stared down at Miss Braxton in his arms, her pretty eyes, wide with surprise, meeting his. Her hands clutched at his coat, fingers gripping onto the wool securely, and Darcy knew he ought to let her go, for he was holding on to her just as tightly, but for one long moment, the only thing he could focus on was how ridiculously thick her lashes were.

And then, like a bucket of freezing water being tossed over his head, a loud, indignant voice cut through them,

“Lizzy Braxton!”

Miss Braxton whipped her head to the side in surprise, and her mouth dropped open when she saw who had called her, “Uncle?!”

She let go of his coat at the same moment he dropped his hands from her arms. The both of them turned to watch Mr. Bennet as the man veritably stomped his way over to them. Though it was his niece’s name he had called out in such anger, his harsh glare was all for Darcy. The gentleman, however, only raised a brow. Perhaps, if Mr. Bennet was taller than him, or stockier, or donning reading-glasses not smudged with impressions of greasy fingerprints, Darcy could have been persuaded to feel intimidated. As it was, he only felt a bit bemused as he watched the older, but slighter man glower at him,

“Sir.” Darcy bowed, as was proper, “I do not think we have been introduced.” Mr. Bennet, from what he understood, was an unsociable fellow, and had not condescended to attend any of the social gatherings that Bingley and his party had been invited to since the young man had taken up Netherfield. Darcy understood, and even related to the older gentleman’s aversion to social events more than he would ever care to admit to, but he could not respect Mr. Bennet’s choice to close himself away from society when he had an estate entailed to heirs male and four unmarried daughters all out at once and looking for husbands.

Mr. Bennet was disgruntled. If he had expected Mr. Darcy to appear even a little bit ruffled after taking such liberties with his niece in so public a place, he was to be sorely disappointed. Rather, the gentleman (who Bennet could not help but think was needlessly tall) only looked at him in a disconcertingly even manner, and Thomas found his bravado slipping under his nonchalant stare.

He turned to his niece,

“Will you not make the introductions, Elizabeth?”

“Of course,” She replied, though she was more than a little confused, “Mr. Darcy, allow me to introduce you to my uncle and master to Longbourn, Mr. Thomas Bennet. Uncle, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”

Again, the two men bowed to each other. And Elizabeth, still wondering at her uncle’s presence, for not in any of her visits had she ever seen him leave the house for anywhere that was neither the bookshop nor the local tavern, spoke before the men could enter into the usual stream of banal pleasantries,

“Uncle? Is something amiss? Jane sent a note to Longbourn asking for a carriage so that we could take our leave, but I do not think it could have reached you so expeditiously.”

“No, I do not suppose it did, for I have just come from The Quick Twig rather than Longbourn.” Here, he turned to Mr. Darcy, and hinted gravely, “I think there is something that we must discuss, young man.”

Mr. Darcy, more than a little bewildered, was too polite to inquire, and only nodded his head. Elizabeth's eyes alternated between them- At Mr. Darcy’s confused but composed expression, and at her uncle’s reluctance to speak, despite having demanded this conversation; Elizabeth lost her patience.

Huffing almost silently, she straightened her back and raised her chin as she had often seen both her grandmother, and her mother do. Placing her hands on her hips, she turned to her uncle and asked him with all the command she could muster for a relation who was not only her elder, but also her interim guardian,

“What could this be about? Until a minute ago, you were not even acquainted with Mr. Darcy, Uncle.”

Us Braxton ladies must always keep our backs straight when we wish to command attention, her Grandmama had often reminded her, with our rather unfortunate height and narrow shoulders, I am afraid there is very little recourse than to stand like a soldier if we want to be considered on equal footing.

Though, it did not seem to be making much of a difference to Mr. Bennet. He hardly spared her a glance. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was looking at her with a spark in his eyes, his lips tilting up to the side in the way they always did just before he smiled. He was amused. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. She had not been trying to look amusing.

“‘Tis none of your concern, Elizabeth. If you have your things packed, have them loaded onto the carriage and inform Jane that I am here. We shall promptly leave for Longbourn as soon as I am finished with my conversation with Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth frowned, shoulders slumping, but there was little she could do but obey. Still, she looked to Mr. Darcy for confirmation, and only took her leave when he nodded.