* * *

Mr. Darcy, for his part, was still not completely recovered from the infected wound he had suffered. Added to his concerns, the emotional trauma of witnessing Wickham’s violent death and the gloomy sense of unrequited love from not knowing whether Elizabeth would forgive him had proven nearly too much for him to bear, through these long, lonely months of uncertainty. Indeed, at one time, he had wished to rest his body and mind forever.

His sister had begged him to send word of his continued illness to Elizabeth, but he would have none of that. He could not bear to worry her when she was in mourning, and while her father was still sick. What constructive purpose could it serve to reveal to her that he, himself, was ill? She would not have been free to come to visit him, even if she desired to do so. It would have only added to her burden. He loved her too much to let her worry about him.

In the end, he tried to stay resolved to the hope that she did not want him to be harmed.

In the months that followed, his body slowly recovered, but his spirits were still uncertain. Once he was physically strong enough, he sought out Bingley, to correct his officious interference concerning Miss Bennet. Then he returned to Pemberley, determined to prepare for Elizabeth’s arrival. When six months had passed, a proper and respectful time period for those in mourning, he at last felt free to instruct Georgiana to extend an invitation to the Gardiners and Elizabeth, as originally planned. Moreover, Mr. Bingley was due to return to Netherfield, and Mr. Darcy knew that he would be doing a friend a service by asking him to deliver the message.

In the event, Mr. Darcy was deeply frustrated not to be available to welcome Elizabeth to Pemberley on the day of her arrival. But even the best-laid plans could be derailed by unexpected events. In this case, a pressing tenant problem called him away, and he was not even able to be there when she spent the first night in his home. Thus he was robbed of witnessing her first impression when she viewed Pemberley. Did she approve of it? Her good opinion was so rarely bestowed that it would have been a wonder to see her fine eyes brighten when she first arrived.

When he had finally ridden back to Pemberley this morning, he felt done in and frustrated. He came expecting to have a short rest before meeting the love of his life in pristine gentleman’s clothing and a calm and steady manner. But, purely by chance, he had walked past the maze and had heard her cry for help. His mind wheeled with worry. What had happened? Surely she could not come to any harm within the sanctuary of his home. He could not allow that to happen, now that they were to see each other again. Dismounting hastily, he rushed into the maze, only to be confronted by the sight of a distressed and limping Elizabeth.

In that moment, he paid no mind to propriety. He called Elizabeth by her Christian name and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, determined to take the weight from her injured leg. Even then, however, he had not anticipated that she would so far forget herself as to wrap her dear arms around his neck. Nor was he prepared for her tears, which made his heart ache.

Overcome, he picked her up and walked a short distance to where a bench stood, at one of the turns in the maze. He settled her on his lap, still tightly embracing her as he rocked her, murmured comforting words for her ears only.

After several minutes, Elizabeth was finally able to stop sobbing. Without regard to manner, she pulled his coat up to wipe her eyes. He silently found his handkerchief and placed it in her hand to dry her tears.

Elizabeth felt as if she had needed those healing tears to release the suffering and grief of the last six months. Her spirit returned, fed by the knowledge that Mr. Darcy was embracing and comforting her in this moment of distress. But then she remembered his non-communication for the worst months of her life. She pouted, pushed herself away from him, and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Why did you not try to contact me, these past six months?”

Mr. Darcy looked at her and replied, “I am afraid I was quite ill for a time.”

“What! You were sick and did not tell me of it?”

“What good could that have done? I could not send for you. You were in mourning. I knew that your father was also ill and still had need of you.”

"What illness befell you?"

“Not an illness, precisely. My wounds became infected. I was feverish for quite a while, and very weak after that. It took me a long while to regain my strength.”

Elizabeth gasped, distraught that she had not been there to nurse him. “What if you had not recovered!” she exclaimed, horrified by the thought.

He winced at the volume of her words.

Seeing his expression, she traced his lean cheeks with her fingertips and said, in a much softer voice, “No wonder you look so thin and tired! And you had tenant problems, last night. Have you slept at all?”

Wearily, he shook his head.

“But that cannot be borne!” she protested in concern. “How can you not look after yourself? You have only recently recovered. We must get you inside, out of the cold.” She rose from his lap and took a limping step, but he stopped her with a touch.

“Elizabeth, I am fine. Truly. I have not felt so well in quite some time. Right now, I want nothing more than to hold you for a little longer. As soon as we return to the house, I will have to pretend to be a gentleman, and sit as far from you as possible, when all I really want is to take you upon my lap and keep holding you.” He drew her down again and held her tightly, then said in an irritated tone, “And who are you to be taking such a tone with me? You have not taken proper care of yourself, either. I can see that you have hurt your ankle again. Am I to carry you around forever?”

“I… I… got lost, here in the maze, and I felt trapped, like an animal in a cage. It was altogether too much like what I have been feeling for the past six months, tormenting myself over whether you still love me.” She looked up at him, her expression a peculiar blend of daring and entreaty. “Can you possibly still want me, after what happened to Lydia and Mr. Wickham?”

He frowned pensively. “I might well ask the same of you.”

She inhaled deeply, determined to bare her soul to him. “I… admire your courage in righting the wrong. I respect your character, which makes you such a responsible master. I think highly of your love for Georgiana. I most definitely do not want you to be harmed in any way. I want to take care of you when you are well, when you are drunk, when you are ill.” She lowered her head before whispering to him, “I… I love you! Indeed I do.”

She held her breath, waiting for him to reply, and saw that, although he closed his eyes for a moment, his frown did not ease. Then he opened his eyes and asked slowly, again, “You do not blame me for your sister’s downfall?"

“How could I blame you? I know that you did all that you could do to save my sister. I believe the Bible when it tells us, ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’ As painful a truth as it may be, Lydia was responsible for her own demise.”

He embraced her again, then pushing her far enough away so that he could see her eyes. “And… you… love me enough to… be willing to be… my mistress?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Does he mean to threaten or challenge me? She looked at him directly. He seemed to be scorched by her intense gaze and turned his head slightly away.

She replied calmly, “Love is all about making the other person happy. If by becoming your mistress, it will make you happy, I shall do it.” She lowered her mouth to kiss him softly before asking, “And so, do you still love me?”

He wanted to cling to her pleasing lips but he could not pretend anymore; whatever the risk, he felt that he must be honest with her or die. “Oh, Elizabeth! I loved you in the past, I love you now, and I will always love you! My wish is to make you the happiest woman in the world. I would never demean you by expecting you to be my mistress. I have never thought of asking you as my mistress, except as the mistress of Pemberley itself. Pray forgive me for testing you, when we first met again in London. Pray forgive me for challenging you again, just now. My self-confidence and my pride were painfully bruised by your refusal in Kent. I needed to be certain before I asked for your hand again. Elizabeth, dearest Elizabeth, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Tears welled in her eyes again. She said decisively, “Yes, Fitzwilliam. I have hoped and waited for you to renew your proposal, for some months now. I love you most fervently and it shall be my honour to become your wife.”

Her reply awoke a flame of joy within him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her body and bestowed upon her a tender kiss, one which lingered and grew more passionate.

Finally, when they released each other in order to catch their breath, Elizabeth urged him to head back. She did not want him to stay in the cold air for long, and she had been out from the house for some time as well. She feared that her aunt and uncle would be worried for her.

Like any young man violently in love, Mr. Darcy was in a jubilant mood. He could not wipe the smile from his face or the passionate glint from his eyes. In truth, he did not want to share her with anyone else, just yet. He wanted to stay here alone with her forever. But that, of course, could not be.

He suddenly remembered some of his happy days here in the maze with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Even now, he could not imagine how Richard had become a successful soldier for his cousin had the worst sense of direction. As a boy, he had often gotten lost in the maze. Mr. Darcy, as any carefree young lad would do, would take advantage of the situation and extract toys and promises from him, in return for revealing the way out. Remembering the mischief on his younger days, he flashed a devilish grin and told his new fiancée, “Well then, what reward do you offer me for leading you out of this maze?”