An Engaging Friendship

by AmyJ

  Mrs. Reynolds smiled brightly. "Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy." Though her words were formal, the unshed tears that glistened in her eyes were

  unmistakable.

  After a bath and filling their stomachs, Darcy led Elizabeth around the walking paths of Pemberley. He led her towards the large pond that he often visited. It was a rather idyllic location; far enough away from the house to escape the

  noise and commotion if there were visitors, but close enough to be found if needed.

  Elizabeth and he had spent a great deal of time there when they were younger.

  It was where they had learned to skip stones, caught frogs, and dared each

  other to get increasingly closer to the water without muddying their shoes.

  As they walked around, Elizabeth spied a small wooden raft. "That is not the same raft, is it?" she exclaimed in amusement and surprise.

  Darcy laughed aloud. "You mean the one you stranded me on?"

  "I have no idea what you refer to." The way she avoided looking at him told him it was not the truth. When he paused in his step and looked at her

  admonishingly, she retorted, "You were not stranded, I know very well you can swim."

  "I was in my waistcoat and trousers!"

  "You should not have muddied my favourite bonnet by hiding a frog in it." She raised her chin, feeling fully justified.

  "How can you have a favourite? You do not like wearing bonnets." He pointed to the bonnet in her hand, proving his point.

  "It was the bonnet I disliked wearing least, therefore it was my favourite."

  "It was still no reason to set the raft adrift." His tone was almost petulant.

  The proud master of his estate pouting over a pair of trousers ruined years ago was enough to make Elizabeth laugh. When Darcy joined in her amusement,

  she finally apologized.

  After making their way around the pond, they returned to the house where they separated.

  Darcy met with his steward, while Elizabeth met with Mrs. Reynolds. They did not see each other again until dinner. The remainder of the evening passed in easy companionship as they discussed changes to the great house since her last visit.

  Finally, Elizabeth declared herself exhausted. As he had done every other night, Darcy walked Elizabeth to her room and kissed her on the cheek. "It is good to have you here again, Elizabeth," he said lowly. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but then closed it. Their eyes locked and at that moment, nothing else existed.

  By its own volition, his hand moved to brush Elizabeth's cheek, but he caught it in time and instead tugged awkwardly at the sleeve of his tailcoat. "Good night," he whispered. Then he took a half step back.

  Elizabeth simply nodded, and after gathering her wits, entered her room. Alone in her room, she placed her hand against the door and with sigh of longing.

  "Good night, my love."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The second day at Pemberley, Darcy ordered the curricle and a picnic basket readied. There were a few tenant issues to resolve, and not keen on abandoning his wife - that word still brought a smile to his face - he brought her along. It was a perfect opportunity to begin introducing the new mistress of the estate.

  Not surprisingly, the tenants easily warmed to Elizabeth's friendly manner, her genuine interest in their situation and unpretentious attitude. Even the most suspicious of the lot had to concede, the master had chosen well.

  After making a several stops, and a tour of the eastern border of the estate, they broke for a mid-afternoon snack at the grove where they had often played as children. It was a bit overgrown, but the stream still flowed, and the grass was starting to turn a lush green.

  "It has hardly changed," Elizabeth said. She smiled at a weathered length of rope that still dangled from the limb of a large oak. The stream here was not wide, but without assistance, one's feet would get wet.

  Darcy set the down the picnic basket, and with Elizabeth's help, spread out a blanket. He sat down on it, and watched as Elizabeth inspected the place.

  "Do you come here often?" She plunked down in the grass next to the blanket, and then made quick work of discarding first her gloves, and then her bonnet.

  "It has been a while."

  Much to Darcy's surprise, she began unlacing her half boots.

  Feeling his stare, she looked up at him with an unembarrassed chuckle. "It is not as if you have not seen my toes before." With a saucy grin, she added,

  "Besides, we are married now."

  Though he was tempted to kiss away that smugness, he leisurely leaned back

  on his elbows, watching her intently. Never had the removal of footwear

  aroused such a reaction from him. If he did not know better, he would have

  sworn she was trying to seduce him. By the time her first stocking was laying in the grass, his heart was beating erratically, and was threatening to leave his chest. Unable to look away, however, he took a slow, deep breath, and watched as she worked the laces of the other boot. God how he loved this woman!

  After laying her stockings neatly next to her boots, Elizabeth pulled up the hem of her skirts so she could watch her toes wiggle in the grass. "Take off your boots," she said with an impish smile. "The grass feels nice."

  Afraid of what he might do if he moved, he remained still. "It is too cold to be barefoot. You should put your boots back on."

  "Fine," she clipped. "I shall go wading in the stream alone." She sent him a teasing look. "It is probably safer that way." As she neared the edge of the

  stream, she hitched up the hem of her gown even further, allowing him a full view of her calves. Entranced, he watched as she dipped her toes into the water, testing its temperature.

  "Elizabeth, you will catch your death. It is too early in the year; the water has not warmed." His tone lacked any conviction.

  Typical, Elizabeth turned a defiant arch of the brow, and then trounced into the water with both feet. Not even a full minute later, she jumped out of the water with a shriek, and scurried over to the blanket.

  Darcy collapsed with a hearty laugh. "I told you!" Pulling himself up on his elbows again, he watched as Elizabeth attempted to warm her feet, which were now pink from the cold, with the blanket.

  "See what your wilfulness has gained you?" he chided. "Cold feet and a wet blanket." Unable to hold in the giggle any longer, Elizabeth, too, began laughing.

  When she was once again sporting half boots, the picnic things were

  rearranged so the food basket covered the blanket's wet spot. Lazily stretched out, the two ate cucumber sandwiches, interspersed with bites of fruit. There was also a bottle of sweet wine with which to wash it down.

  "I love this place," Elizabeth said. She popped a piece of fruit in her mouth. "It is always so tranquil. Even on windy days, it is peaceful like it is now." She turned towards him. "Do you and Georgiana come here often?"

  "No. I never brought anyone here." At Elizabeth's surprised look, he shrugged and bit off part of a sandwich. "It never came up."

  Not wanting him to see the way his response affected her, she lay back with her arms spread wide and her eyes closed. Her face was so serene, she looked as if she belonged there; as though she were one of the trees or part of the tall grass.

  "This was a lovely idea, Fitzwilliam," she practically sighed. Then worried she may have conveyed more than she wanted, she added, "I shall have to thank Mrs. Reynolds for the basket."

  There were no words that could add to the moment, so Darcy remained silent.

  He was grateful her eyes remained closed, allowing him to admire her sunlit features; her dark curls that encircled her porcelain face, and the way her chest gently rose and fell with each breath. Ever since she had fallen asleep against him in the carriage, he had wanted nothing more than to feel her in his arms again, and the urge to pull her there now was almost overwhelming.

  Following her example though, he laid on his back, closing his eyes and lacing his fingers across his
chest. With full stomachs and a warm sun, it was not long until they each drifted off.

  A long companionable silence filled the area.

  "Elizabeth?" he asked tentatively, unsure if she was awake.

  "Hmmm?" came the drowsy, absent reply. He made no response.

  Sometimes words are not necessary. Intimacy comes from sharing the quiet

  moment, and simply acknowledging the other's presence. This was one of those times. Whether they were recalling fond memories of the past, or

  contemplating their future together was irrelevant; only being together

  mattered.

  An "I love you, Elizabeth," escaped, with a long, contented sigh.

  "I love you too, Fitzwilliam," came the natural response.

  A heartbeat later, both of them bolted upright and stared at each other in

  disbelief; disbelief that they had said those words out loud; disbelief that they had heard the other person correctly.

  Darcy managed to find his voice first, though it was not strong. "You mean it?"

  Elizabeth blushed and took an earnest interest in the blanket's weave.

  Her confirmation was a nearly imperceptible nod, but he had seen it, and that was all it took. In an instant, he was kneeling before her. Gently, he lifted her chin so he could see her eyes, but Elizabeth was still unable to look at him, and turned away.

  "Elizabeth, please," he implored. He had glimpsed the realization of his fondest wish, but it was still just beyond his reach. "I love you so much, Elizabeth.

  Please. Tell me I heard you true."

  At this, Elizabeth finally looked at him. "You love me?" she whispered.

  They may have still been at the game of confessions and consolations had

  Darcy not demonstrated his feelings. After a first tentative kiss, he said softly,

  "Yes, I love you."

  Elizabeth pulled back and stared at him wide eyed. "Truly?" When he nodded, she could not stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, Fitzwilliam! I love you, too!" She squealed. As his arms encompassed her, they fell back to the ground, laughing.

  The sound of joyous laughter filled the area for some time. Though hours,

  days, and weeks had been spent in silent torment, with such an outcome, they could only feel unfettered bliss.

  When the initial release was over, Elizabeth laid her head against Darcy's

  shoulder, and he held her close to him. Even then, it was some time before

  words were spoken.

  "How long have you loved me?" Darcy asked finally. He let out a happy sigh.

  Speaking those words somehow made it more real. She loved him!

  Elizabeth bashfully turned her face into his shoulder. Then daring to look at him fully, she said, "I can not fix the day or hour, but I knew for certain before I left London."

  "That long ago?"

  She chuckled. "This is an auspicious beginning. Are we to spend our entire marriage questioning one another's statements?"

  To this, he could only laugh. "You will have to forgive me. I am only now reflecting on how foolish I have been, and how much time I have wasted."

  Elizabeth rested her chin on his chest with a questioning look. "I have loved you for a very long time, Elizabeth." He kissed his finger and then pressed it to her lips. "I think I have always loved you."

  Elizabeth placed her head on his shoulder again and snuggled close. Like this, they watched the birds overhead flit from branch to branch, and listened to the slight rustling of the leaves and the babbling of the stream.

  "There were so many times I was tempted to tell you." His tone was distant, as he recounted each event. "The night after the Granville Ball, the night of the opera, and then again the night before our wedding. When you fell asleep

  against me in the carriage..." His voice trailed off and he gently stroked her arm. "I did not want to let you out of my arms that day, but I was so afraid you did not feel the same way. I would have done anything to maintain our

  friendship."

  "I know." She wrapped her arm tightly around him. "Since it seems to be the time for confessions, I should tell you, that day in the carriage... I was awake."

  Feeling his surprise, she buried her face in his shoulder again. "I felt the carriage slow, but was so comfortable I did not want to move, so I pretended to be asleep." She dared a peek at him to gauge his reaction at her deception.

  Darcy, caught between surprise and regret, let out a groan. "Why did you not say anything? Did you not feel me kiss you?"

  It was Elizabeth's turn to be stunned. "You kissed me?" When Darcy returned a sheepish nod, Elizabeth could only sigh. "When? Where? I did not feel

  anything."

  Silence descended as they both took the time to a moment to reflect upon all their missed opportunities.

  "The night of the opera-" Darcy asked.

  "I loved you then."

  "But you returned my handkerchief!" His tone was louder than intended, as he searched for some explanation for his misunderstanding.

  "I held it as long as I dared," Elizabeth explained, "but at the end of the night, it was not mine to keep."

  Darcy closed his eyes, lamenting his gross misinterpretation of her actions. "I thought you returned it because you felt nothing for me." He pressed a deep kiss into her hair. "What an idiot I have been!"

  Elizabeth's laughing eyes looked up at him. "We both have been."

  Unable to stop himself, he rolled on top of her, and kissed her deeply on the lips, pouring into it all the emotion, all the love, he had held back thus far.

  When he pulled back, he was met with a glowing smile.

  "I love you, Elizabeth Darcy. Thank you for marrying me."

  "I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

  The statements were punctuated by another deep kiss before they returned to their previous position. How long they remained like that, neither one knew, but neither was inclined to move.

  In time, the sun fell behind the trees. Even knowing it would be dark soon, Darcy had difficulty ending the interlude. Even while holding Elizabeth tighter, he said, "We should return to the house."

  Elizabeth nodded, but made no effort to rise. They remained as they were until a chill ran through Elizabeth and she snuggled even closer to him. Darcy,

  however, would have none of it; he was not about to let her fall ill. "Come," he hesitated for just a moment before saying, "my love."

  Elizabeth blushed at the appellation, causing him to chuckle. "I see this will take some getting used to," Darcy said with a light blush of his own.

  After loading the curricle once again with a now lighter picnic basket, he

  turned to assist Elizabeth. For several breaths, both of them stood still, staring at one another. Finally, Darcy reached out and ran a finger along Elizabeth's cheek. She closed her eyes in response, and pressed her cheek into his palm.

  The next thing she felt was Darcy's lips upon hers.

  She melted against him, and Darcy willingly wrapped his arms around her.

  When the kiss was broken, Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, taking in his

  affectionate countenance.

  "I love you," he breathed, and a large smile, with dimples wreathing his reddened lips, broke free. Finally, he was able to voice all he felt and found he could not say it enough.

  There was only one way to respond to such a statement, with a few more small kisses. Darcy then handed Elizabeth into the curricle. After checking the

  horses, he climbed up himself, and with a flick of the wrist, they were on their way back to the main house.

  As they rode, Elizabeth watched Darcy's masterful hands guide the horses. It seemed so effortless. "Will you teach me to drive?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Are you certain you wish to learn?" His reluctance was evident in his voice.

  Elizabeth did not back down, and unable to deny her anything, he said, "If you wish. Perhaps after we return from London."

  "Why not now?" S
he was met with silence. "You can not object to my learning.

  Your cousin drives her own phaeton." At Darcy's astonished look, she added

  with a smirk, "Mr. Collins spoke often of the condescension your cousin paid to the parsonage by driving by it."

  Darcy could not but roll his eyes. "Very well, we shall begin your lessons on the morrow, if the weather permits. But I do not want you driving in London until you are more practiced. Driving at Pemberley is very different than in crowded streets."

  Elizabeth wiggled in her seat with delight.

  "And I do not want you driving alone, until I say so." He stared straight ahead, knowing he had drawn her censure. When she said nothing, he turned to her

  with a pitiful half smile. "I only wish to keep you safe." He squeezed her hand.

  "I am rather fond of you." He was relieved when he heard Elizabeth giggle, and felt her head rest against his arm.

  Dinner that night was a lively affair, despite it being just the two of them. Their comfort with one another was evident, and in fact, the only change in their interactions was the constant contact they kept with one another, and the way their eyes never left the other.

  Afterwards, Elizabeth played the pianoforte, while Darcy turned the pages.

  They laughed, talked, teased, and joked - interspersed with quick kisses on the lips, cheeks and hands - with one another, until the chime of a clock indicated it was getting late.

  "May I?" Darcy asked, gallantly, holding out his hand to her.

  "Of course, sir," she replied with the same formality.

  Together they walked to their rooms, arm in arm. As they climbed the stairs, the tension grew, evident in the sudden silence between them.

  For his part, Darcy was struggling against his own desires. He wanted nothing more than to carry Elizabeth to his bed and remain there for the rest of his days. The thought of parting from her was almost painful, but she was not

  ready for such intimacy.

  Elizabeth's turmoil was somewhat different. At times when she looked him she saw very dear friend with whom she had grown up - the boy who climbed trees with her and taught her swing on the branches of the willow. Other times, she would see her husband and the man she loved with her entire being. That these two were one and the same, and that he loved her in return, was difficult to comprehend. She was afraid to wake up tomorrow and find it all a silly dream.