Darcy peered at his cousin, who was serenely staring toward the lake. Her color remained paler than most, but with a pink tinge to her cheeks and lips the color of ripe strawberries. To one unacquainted with Anne de Bourgh, her frailty and faintly translucent skin would yet be obvious. To Darcy, who had watched her evolve from a vigorous child and adolescent to the pinched, tremulous young adult she had become, she now radiated health.

“Is the same true of you, dear Anne? Firmly entrenched or ready to climb out of your solitary hole?”

“You of all people know how painful it is for me, William. We share that trait. I think in a strange way I embraced my illness as an excuse to hide.” She smiled, meeting his tender gaze. “It is somewhat of a shame our love was too strong to allow us to settle for each other, Wills. You would have been the safe choice for me. Now I have to contend with mother's arrangements.” She laughed at his pained eyes, leaning to pat his hand. “Do not fret so, cousin. I may be a bit timid and inordinately complacent, but my backbone is not entirely comprised of jelly. I will refuse anyone too disgusting. Fortunately, I do not have to marry for money.”

They were silent for a time, both dwelling on the past as well as the future. From their earliest remembrances, Lady Catherine had spoke of a union. When they were very young they had merely laughed, the concept of marriage to anyone being grotesque. As adolescents, the idea was met with mutual absurdity. The thought of marrying someone who was as close as a sibling was repellent. With the onset of adulthood, the reality that cousins did frequently marry prompted them to honestly deliberate the subject. By that time, Anne was ill with an unknown condition and Darcy was Master of Pemberley. As far as they were concerned, it was an untenable possibility on numerous levels. However, the main rationale was a genuine desire for the other to find what their hearts yearned for. Darcy needed a spirited, vibrant woman who he could truly love, his internal pain and emptiness intuitively understood by Anne. In contrast, Anne required a man with minimal demands who was tranquil and easygoing. Darcy and Anne loved each other, and that love would have, if pushed, bound them in mutual respect and care, but not true happiness or fulfillment.

Darcy broke the silence, speaking frankly as he would to few people in the world. “How run your feelings for Dr. Penaflor?” He expected Anne to blush and equivocate, so was surprised when her contemplative gaze traveled to the doctor where he sat upon a moss draped boulder as he fished.

“I am not sure, William.” She spoke in a hushed tone, as if speaking more to herself than another. “Is my attraction to him because he has restored my health? Is it because he is exotic? Or am I merely lonely and he is the only available male in my immediate circle? Are those reasons acceptable? Unacceptable? And what does any of that matter if he is merely being polite and does not return my interest?” She smiled and turned to Darcy. “You see how terrible I am at this? Perhaps I should take lessons from Mrs. Darcy as to how one wins the hand of their soul mate.”

Darcy snorted. “By all means, do not ask for my instruction! I succeeded by blind fortune and the grace of God. As for Dr. Penaflor, I judge he returns your interest, Anne, but must add the caveat that I am not intimate with him so cannot be certain. Keep yourself open to the possibility, would be my only counsel. He is a worthy man.”

Anne had resumed her study of the fishing gentleman, her countenance sad. “Mother would never consent, so it is all moot speculation.”

“I concur that it would require much persuasion; however, he is a proper match from an elite family, wealthy, and educated. I do not imagine it impossible.”

Finally Anne blushed and lowered her head. “We should not be talking about him this way, William. He probably sees me as a patient and nothing more, yet here I am mentally shackling him not only to me but to mother as well! That is just plain evil!” They both laughed, recognizing the truth in her statement.

Elizabeth caught her husband's eye, blew a kiss, and then gestured for him to join her. Darcy smiled and waved, sitting up from his reclined pose. “Dearest Anne,” he said, leaning close to his cousin and pressing her hand under his, “all I can assert with absolute confidence is the astounding joy to be found in a union with one whom you love and who loves you in return. Do not allow Lady Catherine or any other to convince you it does not matter. Do not settle for less than at the very least a mutual affection, promise me this!”

She intently studied his fierce, emotional eyes, surprisingly moved despite her recognition of the intensity of love in the Darcys’ marriage. Seriously, she replied, “I promise, William. I will not settle.”

The remainder of the afternoon passed pleasantly in frivolous pursuits. Capriciousness and jocosity reigned. Croquet was a triumph, although no one seriously attended to the actual rules of the game, fun prevailing over rivalry. Lizzy mischievously fixated on knocking Darcy's ball off course, vexing him initially, as his intrinsic disposition was a competitive one, but her glittering eyes and coy smile warmed his heart. In fact, as the nonsense escalated, the object of the contest rapidly became hitting another's ball rather than sending one's own through a hoop. Therefore, no one person could claim victory with any clarity.

Darcy and his uncle pitched a chessboard between them, settling in for a serious competition. Richard joined Dr. Penaflor and Charles on the island with pole in hand. The ladies sat quietly until Darcy nonchalantly mentioned that a thicket of wild strawberries grew along a casually indicated pathway, or at least had in years past. He glanced at Lizzy with an imperceptible nod toward Jane and she smiled. Darcy well knew how Lizzy longed for sisterly company with her eldest sibling, and that such solitude had been difficult to arrange even with the small number of visitors currently crowding them.

“Strawberries! How delightful. Jane, walk with me and let's see if we are in luck.” Lizzy stood, leaning to kiss her husband's cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He snatched her hand, drawing it to his lips for a lingering kiss. “Enjoy yourselves. The path is easy and the thicket is not more than a hundred yards in.”

Jane and Lizzy set out, buckets in hand and arms linked. Once they were beyond earshot and under the canopy of forest leaves, Lizzy sighed. “It is pleasant to walk with you, Jane. We have had so few opportunities to converse alone, although that shall change once you relocate here. Oh Jane, I am so thrilled you are moving close!”

“Yes, it will be wonderful. Derbyshire is so different than Hertfordshire. I do worry a bit about the winter. You know I abhor the cold.”

“I cannot argue that point. Hasberry Hall is well constructed, though, with fireplaces aptly located. Besides, the excessive cold lends credence to long lazy days languishing in bed with your husband.”

“Lizzy! Such things you say.” Jane was blushing and Lizzy laughed.

“Oh Jane, you so amuse me. Surely you must be past your acute embarrassment of intimate matters by now? Is not nestling with your love a delightful activity?” Jane was silent and Lizzy noted her thoughtful expression. “Jane? What is it?”

“When Mr. Darcy holds you Lizzy, is it very tight?” Jane glanced at her sister, slightly reddened and stammering yet truly curious. “I mean, do you… touch completely?”

“It varies night to night. William prefers to be entwined, as do I. However, lately, between the warmth of summer and my internal body heat rising with pregnancy, I am discovering it preferable to merely hold hands or lay close. Why do you ask?”

“Charles wishes to hold me snug, which is very sweet, I know, and I do adore the intimacy and thank you, Lizzy, for encouraging me in that regard. It's just… I cannot sleep well. I keep telling myself I will grow accustomed to another body so… attached… to mine, but…” She sighed loudly and Lizzy could see tears shining in her eyes. “Oh, Lizzy, I am a terrible wife!”

“Jane, dear Jane, you are not terrible! You have always needed your freedom, that is all. Remember when we shared a bed? You would get so irritated if I invaded your side. We would snuggle for warmth, but you were always the first to push me away. It is simply how you are! You can share a bed with your husband without necessarily being in the same space. I am sure Charles would understand this.”

Jane was shaking her head slowly. “No, Lizzy, I could never disappoint him so. Our relationship has blossomed since we began staying in the same room, as you said it would, and I truly do desire him there. He would be hurt if I altered it.”

“You are merely seeking a compromise, Jane. Why should you be miserable? You are not suggesting he retreat totally. I am afraid I simply do not see the problem. Candidly explain how you feel. Talk to him.”

They had reached the strawberries, Darcy's thicket having grown to a dense region of strawberry runners covering easily fifty feet of forest floor. Masses of ripe berries carpeted the ground in a speckled red and green pattern. Lizzy immediately knelt and began picking, but Jane stood still, staring into space.

“You sound just like Charles,” she said vaguely.

Lizzy looked up into her sister's faraway eyes. “What sounds just like Charles?”

Jane jolted slightly, focusing on Lizzy with a faint flush “Oh nothing. He is forever inquiring as to my feelings. He does not seem satisfied with my answers.” She shrugged. “Charles is ebullient and loquacious. I suppose he expects the same, yet it is not my nature to be effusive. It is frustrating, actually, to have him doubt my honesty.”