Chapter Twenty-Two

Elizabeth

E lizabeth wandered the expansive grounds of Matlock, Maggie was skipping just ahead, her small feet scarcely making a sound upon the bare path. The sky hung heavy with clouds and a chill in the air would have cut through them if not for their thick winter attire.

Maggie looked resplendent in her new clothes, the fabric that Mr Darcy had bought in Newport Pagnell had been taken to his aunt’s dressmaker, and in addition to two new gowns, she had a warm winter coat and sturdy leather boots more suited to the chillier weather. Mr Darcy had presented Elizabeth with a warmer coat to accommodate to their more northerly location and her lack of suitable clothing, though judging by the look of his aunt—clearly the prior owner of said coat—he ought not to have done so.

Pushing the thought aside, Elizabeth pressed on, taking in the surroundings instead. The parkland stretched on seemingly without end, rolling hills with a dusting of snow stretching ahead of her, framed by towering skeletal oaks and conifers, their colour a welcome burst of green in the wintery landscape.

Several days had passed since their arrival, and while the atmosphere was cordial, Elizabeth could still feel the sharp edge of Lady Matlock’s disapproval. There had been a subtle truce between them—no open confrontations, no biting remarks—but the contempt had not entirely dissipated. It simmered beneath the surface, ready to flare at the slightest provocation. Even Lord Matlock’s jolly character could not make up for his wife’s clear antipathy.

Yet out here, under the open sky, Elizabeth could almost forget the strain that hung over her. She turned to look at Mr Darcy, who walked beside her, his stride as measured and composed as ever, though she noted a softness in his demeanour she had only recently begun to perceive.

“She seems happy here,” Mr Darcy remarked quietly, nodding towards Maggie, who had just discovered a cluster of bright red berries at the path’s edge.

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, her voice soft. “For now, at least. Children have a remarkable ability to find joy, even amid uncertainty. I am only glad the attempted kidnapping has not scared her permanently.”

“She is a resilient girl indeed.” Mr Darcy glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “And you? Have you found comfort here at Matlock?”

Elizabeth hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her shawl as she considered her response. “I find comfort where I can, Mr Darcy,” she replied at last, her tone light. “Though I confess, I am not so adept as Maggie at forgetting the circumstances that have brought us here.”

Mr Darcy’s brow furrowed slightly. “I regret the trouble in which you have been placed. If I could alter it—”

“Please,” Elizabeth interrupted, shaking her head gently. “There is no need for apologies. You have done more than enough to ensure our safety, and for that, I am grateful.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, their steps in rhythm as they ventured deeper into the park. Elizabeth was acutely aware of Mr Darcy’s presence beside her—of the warmth that seemed to emanate from him, of the way the sunlight caught in his dark hair. She found herself stealing glances at him, her mind flickering with thoughts she had never imagined entertaining about this man.

When they reached a clearing by a small, babbling brook, Maggie bent down to gather smooth stones from the water’s edge, oblivious to the biting cold. Elizabeth smiled, watching her for a moment before turning to Mr Darcy, who had paused beside her, his gaze thoughtful.

“It is strange,” Elizabeth murmured, “how swiftly one’s life can change. Only a few weeks ago, I could not have conceived of being here, in such a place, under such circumstances.”

Mr Darcy’s gaze flicked to her face, his expression softening. “Nor could I,” he replied.

There was a weight to his words that Elizabeth could not quite ignore. She met his eyes, finding them filled with a depth of feeling that made her breath catch. How had they come to this? How had they journeyed from being adversaries to this?

“I must confess,” she said, her voice scarcely more than a whisper, “I no longer feel quite so… at odds with you as I once did.”

Mr Darcy’s lips curved in the faintest of smiles, though his eyes remained serious. “I am relieved to hear it, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth hesitated, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. She glanced down at her hands, clasped lightly before her, before looking up at him again. “Perhaps given all that has transpired, and the time we have spent together, you might—” She paused, feeling the weight of what she was about to say. Then, taking a small, steadying breath, she continued. “You might call me Elizabeth.”

Mr Darcy blinked, surprise flashing across his face, though it quickly softened into something warmer, something far more intimate. “Elizabeth,” he repeated softly, as though tasting the name upon his lips.

Hearing her name from him, spoken so tenderly, sent a shiver down her spine. She had never expected to hear it spoken thus by him—so devoid of formality, so full of gentleness. It was as though, in that single word, the distance between them had lessened, and for the first time, they stood upon equal ground.

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” he said quietly, his gaze steady upon hers. “It is an honour. You may call me Fitzwilliam, if you please.”

“Fitzwilliam,” she said his name and found that she rather liked the way it felt.

She felt the wind lift her hair again, and as she reached to tuck it behind her ear, her fingers brushed against his for the briefest of moments.

Mr Darcy’s hand stilled, his eyes dropping to where their fingers had touched. The moment stretched between them, fragile and delicate, until Elizabeth withdrew her hand, her pulse quickening.

They stood in silence for a moment, the stream bubbling softly beside them, Maggie’s laughter distant as she wandered further ahead. Elizabeth’s heart continued its restless beat, her thoughts a swirl of confusion and… something else. Something warmer.

“Shall we walk a little further?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady, as though nothing had shifted between them.

Elizabeth nodded, though she could not shake the feeling that everything had indeed shifted. “Yes,” she replied softly. “Let us walk.”

And so they continued, side by side, their footsteps in perfect harmony, the quiet intimacy between them deepening with each step. The landscape around them remained unchanged, but the air between them felt different—lighter, warmer, and filled with the promise of something neither of them had yet dared to name.