Their earlier conversation remained fresh in his mind. He knew of Elizabeth’s grief, but her self-inculpation had taken him by surprise. She blamed herself for their losses. “My sweet Elizabeth,” he mouthed as he traced her countenance’s pure loveliness. How could she consider such accusations? How could Elizabeth think herself unworthy? It was always he who wasn’t worthy of her love.

Elizabeth had often expressed her gratitude for his saving her from a lifetime of tediousness, but it was she who’d saved him. Early on in their relationship, they had talked at each other — challenging and misconstruing, but never truly communicating. Now, they spoke with acceptance. When she first refused him, Darcy had momentarily rued the day he had ever laid eyes upon her. He’d practiced hatred for less than half the time it had taken him to return to Rosings. Then his disdain had turned inward, and he’d sought a means to turn Elizabeth’s opinions of him. He’d written her that first letter — the one in which he’d explained his involvement in separating Bingley from Jane, and in which he’d taken her into his confidence regarding Georgiana’s near ruin. When he’d reflected upon it later, Darcy had wondered about his sanity in sharing such intimate details with a woman who’d vehemently stated, “You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”

But that letter had been their relationship’s turning point, and although they’d spoken of it only once since that fateful day, he was happy he’d told her the awful truth. It had freed him from the crippling guilt of inaction, and it had laid the basis for his renewed hopes.

The thought of never seeing Elizabeth again had nearly driven him to distraction. He’d destroyed any connection he might’ve had to Hertfordshire when he shared in Caroline Bingley’s scheme to end her brother’s affection for Jane Bennet. He’d wondered over those spring and summer months about Elizabeth. Did she ever think of him? Had she met someone new? Would Elizabeth marry another? Would her children possess her fine eyes? The possibility of her loving another created such havoc.

There had been moments when he’d considered riding at breakneck speed to Longbourn and prostrating himself before her, but then Fate had arrived in the form of Elizabeth’s Aunt and Uncle Gardiner’s visit to his estate. With Elizabeth in tow, they, literally, had arrived on his doorstep, and life had changed for the better.

From the haze of his thoughts, hazel eyes met his in some amusement. A sleepy droop of the lid said Elizabeth had rested well despite the cramped quarters. Unfolding, she struggled to a seated position. Stretching her arm to the side and rotating her neck to loosen the muscles, she said, “Did I sleep long?”

Darcy placed the idea of her self-chastisement away for now. He would observe his wife’s actions and words more carefully. Somehow, he thought her parents’ visit would resolve some of Elizabeth’s anguish. That is, if he and she ever arrived at Pemberley. “Long enough to restore a bit of color to your cheeks.”

Elizabeth nodded in satisfaction. “I admit to feeling the exhaustion you described earlier.” She glanced out the coach’s window. “Where are we exactly?”

“Mr. Simpson has made exceptional progress. He’s well versed in the local roads and has taken two shorter routes; we’re a bit north of Matlock. I thought we might stay the night at my uncle’s. A decent bed would do you well.”

“We’re that close to Pemberley?” she asked in anticipation.

Darcy cautioned, “Still too far to reach its doors at a reasonable hour. We’ve traveled eight hours already today, and we’ve another hour to Matlock.”

Elizabeth sighed deeply. “If you insist, Fitzwilliam.”

“I insist.”

Elizabeth teasingly tossed him an air kiss. “Only because you are the most handsome man I know do I allow you to exercise your will over mine,” she taunted.

Darcy barked a laugh. “You lust after your husband, Mrs. Darcy?”

Elizabeth’s chin rose in a challenge. “Lust, Mr. Darcy? What an unladylike quality you attribute to me.”

Darcy’s voice became breathier. “Actually, I find the concept quite enticing. Stimulating, even.”

“Stimulating indeed,” she quipped. “In that case, I hope that the Earl shan’t expect us to entertain him all evening.”

“We’ll claim the need of an early departure on the morrow,” he reasoned. “A full night’s sleep is well overdue.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth rasped. “A full night.”



“Thank you for joining me, Miss De Bourgh,” Roman said as he braced her balance with his arm.

Anne laughed nervously as she watched her footing. “You may be sorry, Lieutenant. I haven’t skated since I was a child. I may take you with me when I fall.”

He leaned a bit closer and tightened his hold. “I could never be sorry for your company, Miss De Bourgh, and you’ll not fall. I refuse to consider the possibility.”

Anne smiled in surprise. “You’re a most unusual gentleman, Lieutenant. I fear I don’t know what to expect with you.” They slid to a wobbly stop near one of the small benches encircling the icy surface. “May we sit for a moment while I adjust my skating blade?”

Roman smiled agreeably. “As long as you agree to return to the ice with me.”

Anne allowed him to assist her. “These metal blades are so much faster than I remember my old skates being.”

He seated himself beside her and turned where he might watch the other skaters. It would not do to see the lady’s ankles. “Has it truly been so long since you’ve partaken of the sport?”

“As you well know, Kent’s climate is warmer. Chances to skate are less frequent there, and even when in London, Her Ladyship would never condone my joining those skating on the Thames or on smaller ponds. The last skates I owned were wooden ones with thick iron runners.”

“Were they not terrible?” he said with a laugh.

Anne said quietly, “For me, they were freedom. They were happy times with my father.”

“You miss Sir Lewis very much.”

“I do — sometimes more than I can express. Life was easier when Papa was with us. Her Ladyship had someone upon whom to depend. My mother did all she does now, but Papa was there, and she didn’t have to be so visible. People considered my father the consummate landowner.”

Roman nodded his understanding. “I see such situations often among the officers’ wives. It sounds as if Sir Lewis found a woman who humored, or softened, or concealed his failings, and who promoted his real respectability. One cannot fault a man who recognizes his own shortcomings and finds a partner who complements his life with her strengths.”

“If Papa hadn’t died so soon, things might’ve been different,” she said wistfully. After a pause, she added, “Let’s rejoin the others, Lieutenant. If I’m to make a fool of myself, I’d like to do so early on in hopes that someone else shall create a larger scandal.”

Roman stood and extended his hand. “I suppose that I should take advantage of this surface. After all, I spent enough time creating it yesterday.”

“We’re all in your debt, Sir.” Anne edged closer to the concrete border.

Roman stiffened his stance and braced her first step. “I need no one’s gratitude, Miss De Bourgh.”

“Then what do you require, Lieutenant?” Anne asked boldly as she placed her feet shoulder-width apart and let him pull her along beside him.

Roman paused and switched to her other side. “Today, I simply need the pleasure of your company.”