He had another chance to change things. And this time he knew what he must do. He must not waste his time with Bingley and Wickham. Those problems could be addressed later. Instead, he must focus on what he truly wanted, which was to make Elizabeth his wife. And so he must propose to her. But this time he must do it properly. Instead of insulting her, he must explain to her that she was very important to him. He must humble himself, and tell her how strong his feelings were for her. And he must offer her his hand in a gentlemanlike way.
He dressed with unusual care, making sure every fold of his cravat was in place and ordering his valet to brush his breeches and tailcoat once more before he put them on. He ate a hasty breakfast and then, putting on his hat and taking up his walking cane, he left the house. Elizabeth was an early riser and he wanted to meet her in the park.
He took her favourite route and he was soon rewarded with a glimpse of her. She had not yet seen him and she spun round in enjoyment of the fresh morning air and weak spring sunshine. There was a freedom about her movement that made his heart turn over in his chest. He loved to see her thus, for only Elizabeth could move with such unconscious grace and with no inhibitions. It was one of the things he loved about her, for it was so different from his own inhibited life. There were times when being Mr Darcy of Pemberley were wonderful, but there were other times when he wished he did not carry such a burden of responsibility.
The ribbons on her bonnet caught the wind and fluttered around her face, framing the sweet oval that he longed to kiss. Her long muslin skirt, too, fluttered in the wind, showing a tantalising glimpse of her shapely ankles. He saw her put her hand on her head as the wind gusted and she laughed as the wind then blew her across the lawn.
He stood still and watched her, feeling privileged to catch sight of her in such an exuberant mood. Her laughter carried towards him, its musical notes mingling with the wind.
Then the wind died down and she came to a halt. She set her bonnet more firmly on her head and retied the ribbons, then she straightened her skirt and smoothed the sleeves of her coat. She rearranged her reticule and walked demurely onwards, with a little skip now and again to show how happy she was to be alive.
How he longed to be the proud possessor of all that natural enjoyment, and how he wanted to see her running down the avenue at Pemberley, brightening his ancestral home with her presence. How she would bring the place to life! For there was no denying it had been sombre since his parents died. But with Elizabeth there as its mistress, Pemberley would live again.
And he? Oh, yes, he too would live again.
For too long he had lived for others, caring for his sister and looking after the needs of his tenants and nursing the estate. But now he wanted to live for himself, and the one thing he wanted above all others was to make Elizabeth Bennet fall in love with him.
She caught sight of him at last. Her step faltered for a moment again and then she continued to walk towards him, with her reticule swinging entrancingly from her slender wrist.
‘Miss Bennet,’ he said, making her a bow as they met each other.
‘Mr Darcy,’ she said, dropping him a curtsey. She managed to imbue it with a mixture of joy and grace that was her own.
‘Might I have the pleasure of escorting you?’ he asked.
She looked surprised, but dropped him another slight curtsey by way of saying he could, and he offered her his arm.
‘I am glad to have fallen in with you,’ he said. ‘There is something particular I would like to say to you.’
‘Oh?’ she asked, turning up her face to his.
It was an enchanting face, lit by her own inimitable spirit. Her eyes were bright and her dark brows were finely arched above them. Her skin was creamy white but it had a healthy glow. There was colour in her cheeks, which were a charming shade of red.
He dressed with unusual care, making sure every fold of his cravat was in place and ordering his valet to brush his breeches and tailcoat once more before he put them on. He ate a hasty breakfast and then, putting on his hat and taking up his walking cane, he left the house. Elizabeth was an early riser and he wanted to meet her in the park.
He took her favourite route and he was soon rewarded with a glimpse of her. She had not yet seen him and she spun round in enjoyment of the fresh morning air and weak spring sunshine. There was a freedom about her movement that made his heart turn over in his chest. He loved to see her thus, for only Elizabeth could move with such unconscious grace and with no inhibitions. It was one of the things he loved about her, for it was so different from his own inhibited life. There were times when being Mr Darcy of Pemberley were wonderful, but there were other times when he wished he did not carry such a burden of responsibility.
The ribbons on her bonnet caught the wind and fluttered around her face, framing the sweet oval that he longed to kiss. Her long muslin skirt, too, fluttered in the wind, showing a tantalising glimpse of her shapely ankles. He saw her put her hand on her head as the wind gusted and she laughed as the wind then blew her across the lawn.
He stood still and watched her, feeling privileged to catch sight of her in such an exuberant mood. Her laughter carried towards him, its musical notes mingling with the wind.
Then the wind died down and she came to a halt. She set her bonnet more firmly on her head and retied the ribbons, then she straightened her skirt and smoothed the sleeves of her coat. She rearranged her reticule and walked demurely onwards, with a little skip now and again to show how happy she was to be alive.
How he longed to be the proud possessor of all that natural enjoyment, and how he wanted to see her running down the avenue at Pemberley, brightening his ancestral home with her presence. How she would bring the place to life! For there was no denying it had been sombre since his parents died. But with Elizabeth there as its mistress, Pemberley would live again.
And he? Oh, yes, he too would live again.
For too long he had lived for others, caring for his sister and looking after the needs of his tenants and nursing the estate. But now he wanted to live for himself, and the one thing he wanted above all others was to make Elizabeth Bennet fall in love with him.
She caught sight of him at last. Her step faltered for a moment again and then she continued to walk towards him, with her reticule swinging entrancingly from her slender wrist.
‘Miss Bennet,’ he said, making her a bow as they met each other.
‘Mr Darcy,’ she said, dropping him a curtsey. She managed to imbue it with a mixture of joy and grace that was her own.
‘Might I have the pleasure of escorting you?’ he asked.
She looked surprised, but dropped him another slight curtsey by way of saying he could, and he offered her his arm.
‘I am glad to have fallen in with you,’ he said. ‘There is something particular I would like to say to you.’
‘Oh?’ she asked, turning up her face to his.
It was an enchanting face, lit by her own inimitable spirit. Her eyes were bright and her dark brows were finely arched above them. Her skin was creamy white but it had a healthy glow. There was colour in her cheeks, which were a charming shade of red.
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