He stopped in mid-stride as an excruciating thought lanced through him. Could the signs he had taken as warming of her regard instead be gratitude? Jane’s happiness mattered so much to her; could she be rewarding his role in returning Bingley to Hertfordshire with the only currency she had? Did she see herself as purchasing her sister’s happiness at the cost of her own? The thought was unbearable; he would rather never lay eyes on her again than take her at that price. Somehow he forced himself to keep walking.

He would have to leave. There was no possible way to live with the pain of seeing her if it was true; it was already a constant struggle not to take her in his arms. He would have to admit that the dream was ended. Yes, Pemberley, he would go to Pemberley and never again set foot in Hertfordshire, but even as he thought it he knew he would not be able to stay away for long.

When Elizabeth finally felt mistress of herself again enough to glance at him, she saw the disturbance of his mind visible in every feature, and his face set in the grim lines she had only seen once before, when she accused him at Hunsford of destroying Wickham’s future. What had he to be distressed about? He had got what he wanted, after all; she was the one with the right to feel upset about what had happened. His assumption of her compliance reminded her of his proposal at Hunsford, and how he made his offer with the perfect conviction that she would accept him without question. Was it in fact any different now, apart from his going through the motions of courtship? He seemed to assume, at least until proven otherwise, that she would accept his caresses, his kisses, his familiarity—and no doubt his hand in marriage, in good time. And she had allowed it, one step at a time, allowed him liberties she had never expected to give anyone but her husband, and was beginning against her will to allow him inroads into her heart as well. He had changed his outward manner and made his admiration of her overt, and she had fallen into his hand like ripe fruit.

And now he had the presumption to consider himself the injured party! Well, this was as good a time as any to make clear that she would not continue to tolerate his forwardness. For once, though, she recalled her history of losing her temper with him before knowing all the facts, and forced herself to review the situation one more time before she spoke. In all fairness, she had to admit that she was to some extent responsible by her compliance, and that he likely would have respected her wishes had she told him to stop. Also, he did not, as a rule, have fits of the sulks without reason, though as often as not that the reason existed only in his imagination. She was predisposed to being annoyed with him; at least it took her away from her own thoughts, but she had no wish to be unjust to him as she had in the past.

She stopped and turned to him, her arms crossed across her chest. “Please enlighten me, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her impatience evident in her voice. “I have not the gift for leaping to the worst possible conclusion that you possess, so you perforce will have to explain to me whatever terrible possibility you have discovered this time.”

He looked at her in shock. He was quite unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a manner, and he found his temper flaring. In an automatic effort to quell it, he said coolly, “Miss Bennet, I am afraid that the heat of the moment is leading you to flights of imagination.”

He was quite mistaken if he thought that this would intimidate her from continuing her stand. “I am waiting, Mr. Darcy. I have no intention of walking all the way to Gadebridge Hill with whatever black beast you are carrying with you.”

His complexion became pale with anger. “And what of your own black beast, Miss Bennet? If I am not mistaken, you are not best pleased yourself.”

Ever able to see the humor of the moment, Elizabeth found the corners of her mouth twitching. “Mine is naught but a small grey creature of the night, sir. My question stands.”

Darcy came to the disturbing realization that he did not understand the rules of this sort of skirmish where honesty was demanded, and anger was met with wit. He watched her through narrowed eyes for a minute, absentmindedly noting how bewitching she looked with her eyes flashing in anger. “The thought had crossed my mind that you might be tolerating my attentions out of some mistaken sense of gratitude.”

Her eyes widened. “That is, indeed, an impressively far-fetched conclusion. I believe, in fact, that I am insulted.”

“Oddly enough, I am happy to hear that, although I had no intent to offend you.”

Her gaze continued to clash with his for a moment, but Elizabeth found it difficult not to soften when she saw the obvious relief that he felt, and, as they managed to smile at each other, decided that just now she did not want to think any more about what had happened, but merely to enjoy his company and the beautiful day. Recalling his gesture after their conflict on the day of Jane’s engagement, she held out her hand to him.

Although his face showed only a warming of his gaze, Darcy rejoiced at the step she had taken. Taking her hand, he drew her to his side, then raised it to his lips.

Elizabeth colored slightly. “I daresay that your sister will be disappointed if you are unable to tell her of the view from Gadebridge Hill.”

Not to mention that if we stand here any longer, I will end up kissing you again, and then we will be right back where we started, he thought, as they set off hand in hand. “She will be more disappointed when she realizes that this is likely our last opportunity to walk out before the arrival of Miss Bingley and the Hursts. I fear that it may not be the same afterwards.”

“Perhaps if we select particularly muddy and long walks, we can fend them off, and it will not be so bad,” Elizabeth suggested lightheartedly. “But that is easy for me to say; I do not have to stay in the same house with them. I must remember to rescue Georgiana when I can.”

“She will appreciate it; she is often quite overwhelmed by Miss Bingley. In fact, I may need to be rescued as well,” he teased.

“You, sir, are perfectly capable of handling Miss Bingley with no assistance from me,” she replied, surprised by how content she felt walking so closely to him.

“Just as well, since you intend to desert us to her mercies soon enough. When are you planning to leave for your travels?”

“My aunt and uncle will arrive Monday and we plan to depart the next day.”

“It seems you are quite fond of your aunt and uncle.”

“Yes, I enjoy their company a great deal.”

“I would like to meet them, if I may.”

She glanced up at him, wondering if he realized that her uncle was in trade—she could not recall mentioning it—and if he would be so anxious to meet them if he knew. “If you wish,” she said neutrally.

“I do not believe that you ever told me of your new destination. Do you know where you will go, apart from the wilds of the north?”

Elizabeth colored, knowing that it was impossible to avoid the question once it was asked directly. “My aunt and uncle are setting the itinerary, and I do not know the details. My aunt has mentioned the Peaks, Matlock and Dovedale, and I believe she also plans for us to see Blenheim and Chatsworth. We will also be spending some time in a town in which my aunt spent her younger days. I believe you may be familiar with it; it is called Lambton.”

That Darcy was startled by her response was clear, and she did not doubt that he realized that she had deliberately kept this information from him. “Yes, I know it well,” he said slowly, “it is not five miles from Pemberley.” His mind jumped ahead to further possibilities—She will be at Pemberley! He had dreamed so often about Elizabeth at Pemberley that he could picture her there without any effort—it was almost as if she were already in residence there, but the Elizabeth of Pemberley was the one who looked at him with passion in her eyes, who whispered words of love to him, who cried out his name as he made love to her in the great four-poster bed. The idea of bringing the real Elizabeth to Pemberley was enough to make his heart race.

She stole a glance at him, trying to gauge his response, but his expression was distant. She felt a sudden urge to apologize, though what she had to regret in traveling so near his home was not clear, but she was troubled by his apparent withdrawal. Well, she thought, I do not need his permission to enter Derbyshire; I may visit it with impunity if I choose.

She was determined to wait until he broke the silence, but as it went on and on, and she grew more and more uncomfortable to be walking hand in hand with a man who seemed to have forgotten her existence. Finally, she said, “Mr. Darcy, you appear to be miles away.” She did not desire any further conflict, so to remove any possible sting from her words, she tightened her hand around his for a moment.

He came back to himself from his reveries of having her by his side at Pemberley, of awakening in the morning with his hand tangled in her hair, of kissing her sleeping lips until she returned to consciousness with a passion that matched his own. He turned to the real Elizabeth with a rueful smile. “You are absolutely correct, Miss Bennet; my mind was far away in Derbyshire. My apologies for neglecting you.”

“And was your mind’s visit to Derbyshire fruitful?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at him, just as he had so often pictured.

Bending his arm, he brought her hand to his lips in a casual manner, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “That remains to be seen, my love,” he said.