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“He has not come to Netherfield to greet my friend Bingley yet, so I do not believe so.

We are not faithful correspondents. We had no wish for the betrothal to be discovered as it could compromise your identity as the heir.

You know as well as anyone that there are always those watching who would wish harm on those who wield their power for good. We could not be too careful.

“I confess I came in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you. My parents told me of you, but what they knew was mostly from your birth or tales your father and mine exchanged when you were young.” He often had dreams of her: when she felt strongly about something.

A number of times, he had seen bits of their future.

Visions of what was to come could change, so as much as he had come to anticipate those sights, he did his best to tame his heart—to tame his expectations and not become attached to her or what he saw.

He refused to be heartbroken if she decided against him.

“Pray, do know that I believe this marriage would be what is best for the both of us, but I would not have you marry me for no more than obligation.”

She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip. “You are giving me a choice about whether I marry you?”

“Yes. And I assure you, I shall abide by your decision. You will always have any support and protection the Darcy family can provide. The bond of our families demands no less.”

She removed her glove and held out her hand, palm facing him. He nodded and stepped forward, so they were almost toe to toe. He removed one glove and drew back one side of his cloak. When she placed her hand over his heart, he covered it with his own.

Her gaze held his, though his body trembled at the surge of magic that accompanied her palm against his clothing as well as their ungloved hands. While she was now determining the truth of his heart, would this sensation occur every time they touched?

After a few minutes, she drew back. “I should like some time to consider what I shall do.”

With a nod, he put on his glove. “Am I allowed to do what I must to convince you of my suit?”

One side of her lips curved. “You hope to court me when you hardly know me?”

He shrugged. “Is it not the standard practice—to court a lady with the intention of coming to know her? You must be aware that I have my own reasons.” He would not speak to her of the visions he had seen—at least not yet .

“You will not disclose those reasons to me?” Her arms were again crossed over her chest while she spoke, but the barely there smile and the tilt of her head indicated more of a playfulness to her stance rather than a true challenge. His own lips quirked at her manner.

“No, I believe your continuing curiosity will be to my benefit.”

She bestowed a full smile upon him, and the effect was similar to the sun emerging from the clouds on a dreary day. “Very well. I suppose I shall allow you your secrets—for now.”

Without another word, she turned and began her return to the stone circle. His heart and soul pulled for him to follow, but he had done what he had intended—more, really. He had never meant to speak to her tonight, but fate had intervened. Now he must decide how to woo the fair Elizabeth Bennet.

Elizabeth returned to her family and attempted to behave as though naught had happened when she entered the woods. Her father knew well that she would venture into the trees to seek out Herne, but meeting that gentleman was not what she had anticipated before departing Longbourn this evening.

Her insides had been tumbling and fluttering more and more as she approached the stone circle, and when they had entered the clearing, her entire body had erupted in gooseflesh.

Had he experienced the same response to her proximity?

She had never heard of the like happening before.

What had caused such a response this evening?

The Darcy family held a history of powerful magic. Could her body have sensed the additional power? She never had such a reaction to her father’s presence, but she had been with him since birth. They were accustomed to the magic that radiated from each other.

The oddest part of the encounter had been that, even from the moment she set eyes on him, she had been acutely aware of who he was.

No explanation existed for how, yet every tiny part of her screamed out that he was Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man she was supposed to wed.

One thing was certain: he had not lowered the cape, but what she could discern of his face was pleasing.

He was handsome and tall. Was it strange that she now longed to know what he looked like without the cape?

He appeared as though he was broad shouldered and likely muscular.

Why did that make her chest flutter more than it already had been?

Her father, who had been speaking to Sir William Lucas, glanced over at her and lifted one of his eyebrows. Did he know she would be approached tonight? Thank God he could not read the direction of her thoughts!

“Miss Elizabeth, your father was telling me you have made a study of your family history. ’Tis fascinating, is it not? It is no wonder the non-magical have been creating tales of Merlin and the Lady of the Lake for centuries.”

She smiled and shrugged as she joined the two gentlemen.

“If only they had all of the particulars. I believe the truth to be more fascinating than anything that has been written thus far. Of course, my ancestor did not want a few of the specifics immortalised, lest the lady herself know of our existence before her demise.”

Sir William’s head jolted a bit to the side. “Forgive me, but I see Mr. Goulding. We need to discuss the matter of the spring that runs along the border of our properties.”

“No good will come of arguing over the matter, Lucas,” said her father.

“I suggest the two of you agree to get along and share the magic. That spring is given freely by the earth for all to use. Its bounty is not meant to be owned and hoarded by one man. Those who share without reserve reap the benefits in the long run.”

The portly gentleman nodded in a twitchy manner. “Yes, I am sure you are correct. I shall attempt to smooth matters over with Goulding.”

As soon as the man was across the clearing, her father leaned in a hair. “Do you believe him?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Her father groaned and wiped his hand over his face. “The people of Meryton have used that spring for potions for centuries.”

“It would be a tragedy to have to hide it.” Magical springs often disappeared. No sooner had the Fountain of Youth been discovered in the Americas than it had been hidden because all and sundry sought it out as word spread of its existence.

He nodded while he glanced around them. “The hour is becoming late, and many are beginning to depart. We should as well.” He looked at her over his spectacles. “I do expect you to tell me what occurred with that young man who followed you from the stones.”

She arched her one brow at him. “Do you not know who he is?”

He offered her his arm. “I am certain I do, but I should prefer to hear it from you.”

Of course, he would, and he would not relent until she told him all.