Elizabeth Bennet strolled confidently down the manicured garden rows on the south side of the Rosings estate. The morning sun lifted her spirits and she giggled, wondering how long it would take Mr. Darcy to find her in their impromptu game of hide-go-seek. Feeling perfectly private and alone, Elizabeth untied her bonnet and skipped merrily down the pristine lawn to the end of the hedge.
A tall man stepped out from the shadow cast by the low angle of the new sun. Elizabeth rushed forward to crash into his torso. But Mr. Darcy held his arms out to stop her, making Elizabeth frown.
"Not here, not yet. The southern side of the gardens is easily spotted from the main house. But come and I shall show you my favorite glen from when I was a boy and hiding from my aunt and parents." Darcy reached out to clasp her hand and began walking her further and further away from the estate house.
"Do you mean to say, sir, you were not always so fastidious in your responsibilities?"
Mr. Darcy looked over his shoulder with an expression echoing the mischievous boy he had once been. "Miss Bennet, you have no inkling of how mischievous the Fitzwilliam boys can be."
“But you are a Darcy. I am confident I should have no fears.” Her voice wavered as the surroundings became more dense forest and rustic. In the back of her mind, years of being raised to play the perfect young lady with manners above reproach screamed at the danger she was placing herself in.
Reaching a copse of trees where the grass seemed perfectly encircled Darcy walked her towards a large tree and pressed himself against her as he claimed her lips. Elizabeth dropped her bonnet and tangled her hands in the man's luscious locks, eager to claim more and more of him, yet uncertain as to how. Swooning under his kiss, she heard and felt him give a guttural growl, a primal sound that increased the tension in her lower belly.
“Mr. Darcy . . .” she said breathlessly as his kisses traveled her jawline, her neck, and to the small shallow of her collarbone.
“Elizabeth, you drive me mad.” He managed to say between his attentions to her delicate ivory skin.
“Please, I need . . .” Elizabeth's mind struggled to voice what she desired. All of those weeks being separated, all of those months of pining for Mr. Darcy's touch and company. Now she had the man, in as private a location as they could manage, and she had no idea what was possible.
Fitzwilliam's hand slid from her lower back around to the front, resting for a moment against her abdomen. Gingerly, his hand slid higher and higher up her form. When his large hand finally cupped her breast, Elizabeth gasped and he immediately dropped his hand and walked away a few steps.
“Forgive me. I am a beast . . .”
“No, Fitzwilliam.” She took a few steadying breaths then stepped towards him. As she touched her hand to his shoulder, he rebuffed her efforts by shaking his upper body away. The coldness made her shiver.
“I cannot, that is, I was wanton and I do not blame you for wishing to abandon me.”
“Abandon you?” He turned around and searched her face with his own crumpled in fear. “I needed a moment to calm myself.” Darcy reached forward to clasp her hand and kissed the bare skin. Elizabeth had not bothered to don gloves when the weather was so warm. “I despise this playacting we must employ, but in speaking with Richard last night, we cannot execute our plan until next week when the Archbishop of Canterbury arrives on his tour of the country.”
“The Arch . . . Archbishop?” Elizabeth knees weakened a moment at mention of the man. How did Fitzwilliam expect to convince the highest man in the Church of England to marry his cousins?
“He is my godfather. Richard spoke to his office in London and as his family has aligned with mine since ancient times, he is in favor of our scheme. Especially since Richard produced letters from Anne expressing her intentions.”
“But will he truly agree to marry them? I worry he will side with Lady Catherine and all will be lost.”
Darcy laughed and offered his arm to his Elizabeth. “His Grace eloped with his own wife decades ago. My father may or may not have assisted his old schoolmate from Cambridge.”
Elizabeth shook her head, highly amused by the improper behavior of the higher classes. If her father were here he would be most thoroughly diverted by such tales, she thought wistfully, before a wave of melancholy washed over her heart.
“Fitzwilliam, about my behavior before, I must insist you allow my apologies.”
“Elizabeth Bennet, my darling and my life, from this moment forward, please set aside the strictures of society. Any affections or liberties you allow are a balm to my injured heart.”
“Truly?” She stopped their progress and turned to look at him. Sadly they were now within the view of the main house, and Darcy could not kiss his intended.
He nodded and gulped as his mouth positively salivated over the woman before him. It was his deepest desire to carry her off to his carriage and not stop until they reached Gretna Green. “One week. It is unbearable to be sure, but then we shall return to Hertfordshire and seek your father's blessing.”
Elizabeth leaned slightly into his arm as they continued to walk, but when reaching the split between the main path towards Rosings and the small footbridge to the parsonage, Elizabeth released her hold on him.
“Shall I not walk you to the parsonage?”
“No.” Elizabeth frowned as her answer vexed even her, but she turned towards Fitzwilliam to explain. “My cousin is suspicious and I fear he shall run to tell Lady Catherine both what is true and fabricated in his mind. Perhaps we ought to limit our walks together in the future as well.” Elizabeth said, tasting a bitter bile rise up in her mouth. Her heart ached when she was separated from Fitzwilliam, but they were so close to their aims, so close to freeing him from his family's clutches.
Tears pricking her eyes, she spun away from Fitzwilliam. “We mustn't do anything to jeopardize your scheme. I could not bear to lose you now, and I do not trust myself alone in your company.”
The confession of her desire for him seized Darcy's lungs. The overwhelming need to capture this beguiling woman again flooded his senses, but as he pinched his eyes closed, a voice of reason stalled his impulsivity. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and misread his expression.
“I have spoken out of turn, offended you.”
“No, no, would you please stop thinking the worst? Your honesty pains me, but not in the way you believe, madam. It pains me that I am not free in my abilities to provide for and protect you. And most of all, to love you.”
The last words between the couple hung in the air as the only comfort they could give before finally walking away from the path. Elizabeth carefully retied her bonnet and used a furtive look over her shoulder to glance at the handsome form her Mr. Darcy cut as he walked away. Relishing such a blissful yet bittersweet morning amble, she momentarily forgot the nightmare of her accommodations as she entered the parsonage.