Chapter 8

Elizabeth circled Netherfield’s rose garden, her fingers lightly trailing the few remaining blooms as she walked. Her head, which remained somewhat tender after using her Gift so much the day before, was protected by a bonnet and her hair tucked safely within.

So much had occurred in the past four-and-twenty hours that she was discombobulated; the threat of an epidemic, trading her reputation to save lives, her powerful connexion with Mr Darcy, and now a betrothal to that same gentleman. A little over a week ago, she would have sworn that she and Mr Darcy were destined to remain combative antagonists, yet now she was engaged to marry him! And with far fewer misgivings than she would have expected. None, really, with his reassurances that he was a willing participant—and she blushed to think how willing he was.

“Elizabeth.”

Turning, Elizabeth smiled at the man who had been uppermost in her thoughts. He approached her from the house at an eager pace, settling his hat on his head. She could not help but notice that his gloves were nowhere in evidence.

“If I did not know better, I might have thought my Gift to be Conjuring. How could you know I was wishing for your company, sir?”

Mr Darcy took her hand up in his and pressed a quick kiss to the backs of her fingers, giving her a pleasant tingle. He then transferred it to his sleeve where it would be less distracting to them both. “I was acting upon my own indulgence, but I am glad to hear that my presence is not unwanted.”

They began to perambulate through the roses together, Elizabeth’s head tipped to Mr Darcy’s shoulder. “I have sent a note to my father with a brief explanation of what has occurred, but of course he will wish to speak to us both upon my return. I hope you are prepared for his inquisition.”

“So long as he does not deny my suit, I shall be pleased enough with the interview.”

“I do not think that he could, given what has happened.”

“Perhaps not, but I still wish to convey to him that I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

“I thought it was my powers which were meant to benefit you,” Elizabeth teased. “Some might say that my Gift is far too frivolous to be an asset to a man of your stature.”

Mr Darcy scoffed. “Anyone who thinks that is a dunderhead.”

“It was not so long ago that you believed as much; does this make you a dunderhead, sir?”

He halted them on the path and turned to her, delicately brushing a curl away from her cheek. Elizabeth could feel it sprouting Sweet Williams at his touch. “It makes me a proud fool, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. You are the greatest Gift any man could possibly receive. I could not ask for a better complement.”

Perhaps Charlotte was right all along about how well matched we are. He truly is the man, in disposition and talents, who suits me best. Whatever our differences, they only make us stronger together.

Leaning into his palm, Elizabeth closed her eyes a moment and revelled in the tingling sensation of their combined energy beneath her skin. Upon opening them, she looked up into Mr Darcy’s face and smiled. “I believe our union shall be an advantage to us both.”