Page 56

“I noticed,” he said, quieter now. “And I thought you might like a view with no walls.”

She could not speak at first. The cold stung her cheeks, but her heart felt warm.

“Thank you,” she said at last.

He did not reply - only squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm, and stood beside her in the silence.

They stood in silence for a time, watching the pale light shift across the distant fields. A flock of birds rose from a hedgerow below, wheeling into the sky before settling again.

Then Elizabeth spoke.

“There is something I must ask you,” she said quietly. “Not for curiosity’s sake - but because I think I ought to know.”

Mr Darcy turned toward her. “Anything.”

“It’s about Mr Wickham.”

His expression sharpened, though he said nothing.

“I do not doubt you,” Elizabeth said quickly. “But Lydia believes him.”

Mr Darcy’s jaw tightened. “He tells his story to suit his audience - and Lydia, I imagine, was eager to believe it. ”

“She thinks you ruined him out of jealousy or pride. I have tried to reason with her, but she only grows defensive.”

“She deserves better than to be caught in his charm,” he said. “But she is not the first to fall prey to it.”

Elizabeth hesitated, then looked up at him. “Will you tell me what truly happened?”

He studied her face for a long moment - searching, perhaps, for doubt or judgment - and when he found none, he nodded.

And there, on the quiet hilltop with only the wind to overhear, he told her. About his father’s trust. The living Wickham had relinquished in favour of money. The way it had been squandered. And finally, what nearly happened to Georgiana.

Then, more quietly still, he told her what Wickham had been doing in Meryton - the pattern repeating. The unpaid debts. The flirtations. The shop-girl dismissed from service without a reference. Another, barely sixteen, sent away to stay with family in Kettering.

“I did not go to Colonel Forster to demand punishment,” he said. “But I showed him what I knew. Quietly. And asked him to act before it became public.”

Elizabeth’s hands had clenched in her gloves. “And he agreed?”

Mr Darcy nodded. “He is a just man. He did not need convincing - only confirmation. The transfer was his decision.”

“To protect the regiment,” she murmured.

“And the town,” he said. “And your family.”

Elizabeth listened without interruption. When he finished, she was very still.

“Thank you,” she said at last. “For telling me. And for trusting me with it.”

Mr Darcy shook his head. “It is I who thank you - for listening.”

“I see him clearly now,” she said. “And I will be careful.”

He looked at her, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’re not afraid?”

“I have four sisters, Fitzwilliam,” she said, her voice low. “I live in a state of constant vigilance.”

That startled a laugh from him - soft and entirely genuine. “Then I am clearly marrying the right woman.”

Elizabeth turned to him fully, her gloved fingers still wrapped around his.

“No,” she said. “You are loved by the right woman.”

And then, without hesitation, she rose onto her toes and lifted her hands to his face - cupping his cheeks through the softness of his winter coat - and kissed him.

It was not a dramatic kiss, nor long. But it was sure, and it was hers.

When she drew back, his eyes were wide with wonder.

“Elizabeth,” he said, breathless.

She smiled. “You have been patient long enough.”

He caught her hands, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and whispered, “You undo me.”

A rustle of footsteps sounded behind them, and moments later Mr Bingley appeared at the edge of the path, his cheeks pink with cold and his eyes shining with good humour.

“There you are! I told Jane you’d made for the summit-”

Elizabeth blinked at the name, but Jane only smiled.

Mr Darcy, beside her, said nothing - but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

Jane, walking more carefully behind him, gave Elizabeth a fond look. “We did not mean to interrupt.”

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. “You’re not interrupting anything.”

Mr Bingley glanced between them with an expression of complete delight. “This is excellent! The sun, the air, the company - it could not be more perfect. And the view!” He spun half a turn with a sweep of his arm. “Even the sheep look romantic.”

Mr Darcy raised an eyebrow. “They are standing still, Charles.”

“Yes - picturesquely .”

Elizabeth laughed, and even Jane gave a quiet chuckle.

“We should return soon,” Mr Darcy said, though he made no move to do so. “It will grow colder before noon.”

Bingley nodded, then offered Jane his arm with exaggerated courtesy. “Well then, Miss Bennet, shall we descend with the elegance of ancient Romans? Or perhaps just as two very happy people walking down a hill?”

Jane smiled up at him, accepting his arm. “The latter sounds safer.”

As they began the slow walk back down, Elizabeth glanced once more over her shoulder - at the wide fields, the rising light, and the place where she had stood and been truly seen.

Then she reached for Mr Darcy’s arm.

“I think,” she said softly, “I am quite ready to go home.”

The sisters returned with cheeks pink from the cold and their cloaks faintly dusted with frost. Mrs Bennet was still talking in the drawing room, and Hill was rattling about in the kitchen, but upstairs, the house was quiet.

Elizabeth followed Jane to her room, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Jane set her gloves carefully on the side table. Elizabeth looked down at her own hand - still faintly tingling where Mr Darcy had kissed it.

Jane turned to her with a soft smile. “You are happy.”

It was not a question.

Elizabeth felt her face warm. “I am.”

“I can see it in you. You’re… lighter somehow. As though something’s been unknotted.”

Elizabeth laughed. “That is exactly what it feels like. ”

They sat on the edge of the bed, shoulder to shoulder.

Jane reached for her hand. “He is very much in love with you.”

Elizabeth nodded. “And I with him. I never imagined-” She stopped herself, then smiled. “No, I did. I think I always hoped for something like this. I simply never expected it would be him .”

Jane squeezed her hand. “He suits you. He sees you. You are not easy, Lizzy - and I love you for it - but he does not flinch from that.”

Elizabeth blinked back sudden tears. “And you, Jane… I have never seen you look at anyone the way you look at Mr Bingley.”

Jane blushed. “He is sunshine, is he not?”

Elizabeth laughed again - softer this time. “Then we have done it, have not we? Somehow.”

Jane tilted her head. “What have we done?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Found men who love us exactly as we are.”