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“Oh yes, please, brother!” Georgiana answered excitedly. Darcy noticed her quick glance between himself and Elizabeth, and wondered if his sister had already guessed at his plans.

Gathering his courage, Darcy turned back to Elizabeth, though he addressed her aunt.

“Then all that remains,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt, “is for me to invite you and your husband, and of course the Miss Bennets, to stay at Pemberley for some of your stay, if you would not mind having myself and Georgiana along on some of your trip.” He held his breath, watching Elizabeth’s face from the corner of his eye.

Mrs Gardiner’s broad smile reassured him. “I cannot answer for Lizzy and Jane,” she replied warmly. “However, I would be delighted to see Pemberley again. It has been many years since I last was there.”

Darcy noticed with relief that Mrs Gardiner’s mention of previous visits to Pemberley seemed to catch Elizabeth’s interest.

Darcy turned to Miss Bennet, who was, as ever, looking at Bingley. “And Miss Bennet,” he added, knowing his friend would appreciate the inclusion, “I will extend the invitation to include Mr Bingley if you would like?”

“That would be lovely, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bennet replied with her characteristic gentle smile. “Mr Bingley has told me quite a bit about your home and it sounds delightful. I think Lizzy in particular would love the gardens and grounds. You know how fond she is of walking.”

Her knowing reference to Elizabeth’s love of walking made Darcy’s heart leap - had Bingley perhaps mentioned his own habit of walking the grounds? Did Miss Bennet suspect his feelings for her sister?

Darcy could no longer resist turning his full attention to Elizabeth. She sat next to her aunt, hands folded neatly in her lap, the very picture of composure - until she raised her eyes to meet his. The directness of her gaze nearly undid him.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he managed, his voice somehow steady despite his racing heart, “would you like to join us at Pemberley?”

The word ‘us’ felt like a compromise - how he longed to say ‘me’ instead.

But with Caroline watching and his own uncertainty about Elizabeth’s feelings still plaguing him, he dared not be more direct.

He could only hope that Elizabeth would understand the deeper meaning behind his careful phrasing .

“I would like that very much, Mr Darcy,” she replied softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made his pulse quicken.

The matter settled - though ‘settled’ hardly described the tumult of emotions her acceptance had stirred in him - Darcy found himself barely attending to the subsequent conversation. He needed air, needed movement, needed some way to master his racing thoughts.

“Perhaps we might take advantage of the fine weather?” he suggested, seising upon the first excuse he could find to escape the confines of the drawing room. “The gardens are particularly pleasant this morning.”

“Oh yes, the rose gardens,” Caroline immediately interjected, clearly determined to maintain some control over the situation. “It is really quite charming there.”

The rest of the party readily agreed to the walk - all except Mr Hurst, who had fallen asleep in his chair and showed no signs of stirring.

Darcy watched with growing relief as Mrs Gardiner deftly engaged Caroline and Mrs Hurst in conversation, effectively neutralising what he had feared would be constant interference.

This left Miss Bennet, Georgiana and Elizabeth free to walk with Bingley and himself.

While not the private conversation he craved with Elizabeth, it was more than he had dared hope for - a chance to speak with her away from Caroline’s sharp eyes and sharper tongue.

His sister’s presence beside Elizabeth felt right somehow, as if the future he longed for was already taking shape.

* * *

Netherfield Park, Gardens - Elizabeth

Elizabeth found herself unusually aware of Netherfield’s gardens as they stepped outside, comparing them to Longbourn’s more practical plantings.

Where Longbourn’s gardens spoke of generations of genteel economy - the herb garden her mother tended, the fruit trees her father had inherited - Netherfield’s grounds displayed the kind of ornamental beauty that spoke of wealth and leisure.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Pemberley’s gardens might be like, then caught herself, remembering she wasn’t supposed to be thinking of such things yet.

Her thoughts drifted to Longbourn’s familiar layout - the practical vegetable gardens tucked behind the kitchen, her mother’s cherished herb garden with its lavender, mint, and sage, the modest flower beds that graced the front of the house.

Most dear to her was the wilder area to the side, where apple trees and blackberry bushes grew in cheerful disorder.

That spot had been her refuge since childhood, a place where even her mother’s nerves couldn’t reach her.

Now, walking Netherfield’s manicured paths, she felt a pang of nostalgia for those less formal spaces.

Soon enough, someone else would know those secret corners of Longbourn - Mr James Collins, so different from his brother, yet still the master of her childhood home.

Her mother had always lamented that “wild corner,” as she called it.

“If your father had any sense of propriety,” she would say, “we’d have neat flower beds there, like the Lucas’.

” Elizabeth smiled faintly at the memory - how like her mother to want everything properly arranged and displayed, just as she wanted her daughters properly arranged and displayed for eligible gentlemen.

The irony that her mother’s matchmaking had succeeded with Jane despite the untidy gardens was not lost on Elizabeth.

Netherfield’s grounds stretched out before them, everything arranged with elegant precision - exactly the sort of garden her mother had always coveted.

Elizabeth could almost hear her raptures: “Such refinement! Such taste!” The rose gardens that Miss Bingley had suggested were particularly grand, though Elizabeth found herself missing the cheerful disorder of her father’s wilderness.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering if Pemberley’s gardens might combine such elegance with something more natural.

Mr Darcy seemed to understand the appeal of both beauty and wilderness, if his appreciation for country walks was any indication.

Elizabeth found herself between Mr Darcy and his sister as they walked, Jane and Mr Bingley ahead of them, lost in their own world.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with things that could not yet be said.

Elizabeth was acutely aware of Mr Darcy’s presence beside her, of the careful distance he maintained even as his every gesture seemed to draw her closer.

His invitation to Pemberley still rang in her ears, its deeper meaning impossible to ignore.

Miss Darcy seemed equally hesitant to break the silence, though Elizabeth caught her stealing glances between her brother and herself.

Knowing she must say something to ease the tension, Elizabeth cast about for a safe topic.

Music - yes, that would do. Miss Darcy had spoken of it often enough, and it would give them all something to discuss that wouldn’t betray the emotions simmering beneath the surface.

The moment Elizabeth mentioned music, she felt the tension ease.

Mr Darcy’s shoulders relaxed visibly, and Miss Darcy’s face brightened as she eagerly described her latest pieces.

Elizabeth found herself drawn into a pleasant discussion of composers and techniques, though she couldn’t help noticing how Mr Darcy watched her as she spoke with his sister.

“I hope that you will have a chance to play together when we are all at Pemberley?” he said, his voice carrying that particular warmth that never failed to make her pulse quicken. There it was again - that hint of future possibilities that both thrilled and unsettled her.

Elizabeth smiled, though she felt her cheeks warm under his gaze.

“If Miss Darcy is content to tolerate my poor playing, I would be happy to,” she replied, deliberately understating her ability - a habit that felt safer than acknowledging the real reason for her sudden self-consciousness about performing at Pemberley.

“You must not say such things,” he replied with unexpected intensity.

“Your playing is anything but poor.” Elizabeth felt her breath catch at his defence of her abilities - how different from the early days of their acquaintance when he had barely acknowledged her performance at Lucas Lodge.

The change in his manner, like so many other shifts in their relationship, both delighted and discomposed her.

“I am not really as skilful as Miss Darcy is,” Elizabeth protested, though she found herself oddly touched by his defence.

She glanced at Miss Darcy, hoping to include her in the conversation again - these moments when Mr Darcy’s attention focused solely on her were becoming increasingly difficult to navigate with propriety.

“You have a lovely voice and spirit to your playing, which gives it a life of its own,” he continued, his earnestness making Elizabeth’s usual defences waver.

“You mean I sing loudly,” she parried, falling back on wit to steady herself. The familiar pattern of their teasing felt safer than the intensity of his praise.

“Not at all, I have always enjoyed your performances immensely.”

“That might say more about your taste than my skill!” The words came out more flirtatiously than she’d intended, and she saw Miss Darcy’s eyes widen slightly.

“I would be delighted to play with you, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Darcy interjected quietly, her tone suggesting she was trying to help navigate the increasingly charged exchange between her brother and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth smiled warmly at the younger girl, grateful for her intervention. “You must not mind my teasing of your brother. I don’t mean any harm in it, as well he knows.” Though they both knew, she suspected that her teasing carried more meaning now than it once had.

Miss Darcy drifted away shortly after, ostensibly to examine the roses more closely. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if the girl was giving them privacy deliberately or merely escaping the tension, but she felt both grateful and alarmed at being left alone with Mr Darcy.

* * *

Netherfield Park, Gardens - Darcy

With Georgiana’s tactical retreat - for Darcy was certain now that his sister understood more than she let on - he found himself struggling even more to maintain his composure.

The playful banter with Elizabeth had awakened visions of their future: quiet afternoons in Pemberley’s gardens, Elizabeth and Georgiana at the pianoforte, the three of them sharing such easy conversation.

The temptation to speak of these hopes nearly overwhelmed his careful restraint.

Elizabeth turned to him suddenly, her expression softening.

“I wanted to thank you for inviting us in October,” she said, her voice carrying that particular warmth that never failed to affect him.

“The last few weeks have been very difficult and it is good to have something to look forward to.” She paused, and Darcy found himself holding his breath, hoping she might say more about their shared future, however obliquely propriety required them to discuss it .

“I am glad I am able to help in whatever way I can,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice steady.

His fingers ached to reach for her hand, to offer the comfort of touch, but he was painfully aware of their position - though others might not hear their words, any gesture of intimacy would be immediately noticed.

He could only hope that his eyes conveyed what his actions could not, that Elizabeth could read in his expression all that propriety forbade him to say.

She smiled up at him as they turned down a new path, her expression thoughtful. “So much has happened since we were last here together. When dear Jane was ill.”

The memory of that earlier walk struck him forcefully - how blind he had been then, fighting his growing attraction to her, letting his pride direct his behaviour.

He had walked these same paths with Miss Bingley, deliberately avoiding Elizabeth even as his eyes had sought her out.

Now, to have Elizabeth beside him, to be planning her visit to Pemberley - the contrast between then and now made his heart swell.

The memory of that particular encounter flooded back - he had been walking with Miss Bingley, enduring her endless prattle while secretly hoping to encounter Elizabeth.

When they had come upon her with Mrs Hurst, he had barely trusted himself to speak, afraid his growing regard would be evident in his voice.

“Indeed, but I hope we have come to be-” he paused, searching for a word that could bridge the vast gulf between what they had been then and what they were becoming now.

“Good friends at that time.” The phrase felt woefully inadequate, but it was all proprietary would allow him to say in their current circumstances.

“Good friends,” she said with a laugh that held a hint of something more. “Yes, indeed.” Then her expression sobered. “You were so kind to my father in his days. Without Doctor Russell to tend him, I am sure he would have been in much worse pain before the end. ”

Darcy’s heart clenched at the mixture of gratitude and grief in her voice. He had done what little he could for Mr Bennet, though he would have moved heaven and earth to spare Elizabeth this pain. That she recognised his efforts, appreciated them even, meant more to him than he could express.

He wanted to tell her how he had done it for her, but he couldn’t, not yet at least, so he settled for offering her his arm.

When she placed her small hand in the crook of his elbow, their fingers somehow found themselves intertwined, the intimate gesture hidden by the fold of his coat.

His heart racing at this small liberty, they walked on, drawing further away from the rest of the party.