Page 34 of Penned By Mr Darcy
“I was careless enough to carry it with me the morning I rode out - just before you left Netherfield. I believe it fell somewhere along the trail.”
“I am sorry,” she said more seriously now. “That is a great misfortune.”
“It is more than misfortune,” he murmured. “It is folly. If you should chance upon it during your walks, Miss Elizabeth, I would be grateful for its swift return.”
“Of course,” she said, her voice softer now. “You have my word.”
He gave a short, respectful nod. “Thank you. Might I escort you back to Longbourn?”
Before she could answer, a low rumble of thunder rolled across the distant hills. The horse shifted, ears flicking, and a moment later the sky broke open with sudden violence. Rain fell in heavy sheets, drenching them in seconds.
Elizabeth gasped, half-laughing, half-shivering, as water soaked through her bonnet and clung to her dress. Mr Darcy cursed under his breath.
“This way - quickly - there’s a copse of trees just beyond the rise.”
Before she could ask how he could come to know the landscape so well, he took her hand without ceremony. The horse followed, traipsing behind its master without being led; a loyal beast indeed. The air was filled with the scent of wet earth and summer leaves, and the ground turned slick beneath their steps.
By the time they reached the shelter of the trees, they were soaked through. Elizabeth’s hair clung in dark curls to her brow, her cheeks flushed from the exertion. Mr Darcy released her hand only once she was beneath the cover of the branches, though he did not step back immediately.
For a moment, they stood together, breathing hard, the storm raging around them.
“You are trembling,” he said, his voice low.
She looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time in full. “Only a little.”
Their nearness was suddenly undeniable. The damp, the warmth of shared shelter, the memory of his fingers around hers - it all coalesced into a charged silence.
He cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Forgive me. I acted without thought.”
“Think nothing of it, Mr Darcy. If we are to be struck by lightning, I would rather not be alone in my demise.”
“That is a curious form of comfort to take, Miss Elizabeth, that we would be struck down together.”
“And yet it is comforting all the same,” she said with a soft smile. She turned to look out at the rain. “If your diaryisout there, I daresay that it will be quite ruined by the weather. That should ease your mind.”
She felt the words burn her tongue, her skin itching as she lied to him so easily. He studied her a moment longer, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. When he spoke, his voice was so hushed as to almost be silent, and she struggled to hear him over the sound of the rain outside.
“You are right. If someone were to find my diary, and read it…”
“Yes?”
He faltered.
“They might come to think poorly of me.”
Elizabeth tilted her head.
“Or they might come to understand you better.”
He gave her a long look, as though weighing the risk of being known.
“It is not the way I would wish for another to understand me.”
Outside, the thunder rolled on, but within their little sanctuary, time had slowed. She found herself not wanting to leave, encased in a world that felt like one of her dreams. It was a strange sensation, for she held no affection at all for him – and yet, she found herself drawing closer, the scent of his cologne mingling with the rainfall, intoxicating and…
She did not love him - of that she was certain. And yet, something within her stirred with unfamiliar confusion. She found herself leaning imperceptibly closer, drawn not by affection, but by curiosity… or was it something more treacherous? His cologne, faint but unmistakable, mingled with the scent of rain and leather, and it made her dizzy, unsettled.
