A Walk in the Park

by Suz

September 2002, Firthness Challenge Entry

Rated PG

Author's Note: As this is my very first attempt at writing a story, please be gentle. With many, many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Ally. Without her encouragement and excellent suggestions, I would no doubt be hiding this story under a dark rock.


Fitzwilliam Darcy paced his room at Rosings restlessly. The last couple of days had been harrowing indeed. After his disastrous proposal to Miss Bennet he had wanted nothing more than to quit Rosings and put Elizabeth Bennet out of his mind for good. Damn his Aunt! He felt sure that she had contrived a visit from the Estate’s lawyers in an attempt to prolong his contrived attendance on Anne.

His restless mind gave him no peace, forcing him to once again consider how it had all gone most horribly wrong. He burned with humiliation on remembrance of the proposal and Elizabeth’s unequivocal refusal. He felt sure that he had detected some regard for him in Hertfordshire - how could he have been so horribly mistaken? His passion for Elizabeth had obviously blinded him … He felt the walls closing in and knew he must get out!

Darcy had neither seen nor spoken to Miss Bennet since handing her the letter the previous day and, being unsure as to how it was received and anxious to avoid putting either of them in a situation where they would be forced to respond, he contrived to walk a different path, away from the area of the park for which he knew Miss Bennet had indicated a preference.

Lizzy had awoken that same morning with a strong desire to get out of the house. After the interminable rain of the previous day, Lizzie had had quite sufficient of the company of Mr Collins – who was really the most odious man she had ever known, even if he was her cousin. With her apologies to a very understanding Charlotte, she chose to avoid breakfast and hastened through the front door, anxious to commence her walk. She really needed to clear her head – the revelations enclosed in Mr Darcy’s letter had given her much to think on, and the rain gave her ample leisure to do so.

In an effort to escape the memories that her usual walk through the Park at Rosings might unearth, Lizzy instead chose a different path, one she had not considered before, and set off at a brisk pace in an attempt to sort through the conflicting thoughts and emotions and clear her head.

Altogether, Lizzy was confused. The proposal and then the letter had forced her to seriously reconsider her opinion of Mr Darcy. Could she have misjudged him? She did not understand the violence of her emotions towards him – why could she not be ambivalent? It was undeniable that he excited extremes of all types in her emotions. It was just too confusing.

On the matter of Wickham, she realized she had been most seriously misled. Whatever her thoughts of Mr Darcy, she believed he was not the sort of man who would attempt to right himself at the cost of besmirching his sister’s name, unless it was the truth. That he trusted her with this knowledge had disposed her to feel more kindly towards him; Darcy was a proud man, she knew what the declaration must have cost him.

On the subject of Jane and Mr Bingley, she was amazed that he had seriously considered her objections to his interference and in a show of respect to her had also sent a letter to Bingley notifying him of Jane’s presence in London. The rest, as he said, was up to them.

She would have liked to speak to Mr Darcy regarding the contents of his letter, but she knew he was gone to London with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Thus, Lizzy carried on in this fashion, grateful for the chance to be able to sort through her thoughts in private. She had gone quite a ways, and marveled at how green and clean everything looked after yesterday’s downpour. The fact that her boots were becoming quite muddied mattered not a jot to her. It was a small price to pay.

Darcy, realizing that he had reached the boundary of the estate at Rosings, decided to turn back. Head down, lost in thought, he failed to notice the similarly occupied person approaching from the opposite direction. A crunch of twigs underfoot alerted both to the presence of the other.

“Miss Bennet!”

“Mr Darcy!”

Darcy felt immediately embarrassed, that the focus of his musings should appear in front of him at that precise moment seemed an improbably ironic twist of fate.

“Please excuse me, Miss Bennet. I am afraid my mind was on other things. I beg your pardon.”

Darcy, in an effort to spare them both embarrassment, tilted his hat and made to leave as expeditiously as possible. Lizzy, having overcome her initial surprise and recollected herself, called to out.

“Please, Mr Darcy. Stop for just a moment.” Quickly she went on, “I read your letter, many times.”

“Please madam, you need say nothing more. I understand your feelings perfectly. You were quite right in your opinions of me.”

“No, Mr Darcy, you do not understand – whilst I have been free in telling you of your faults and deficiencies, your letter has forced me to consider a few failings of my own. It has been a difficult lesson, but I believe a necessary one.”

As they walked on, Elizabeth felt compelled to explain to Mr Darcy how his letter had affected her. Despite her initial impulse to disbelieve everything he said, she was forced to reconsider after reading his account of Wickham’s dealings with Georgiana. That she, an astute observer of human character, could have been so grossly deceived was humbling. Darcy’s attempt to make amends by writing to Bingley had also caused her to reassess her conviction of his arrogance and conceit.

They walked some time in this fashion, talking quietly, each attempting to understand the other. Darcy was very conscious of Elizabeth’s nearness. The scent of lavender wafted up to him - how he longed to hold her, caress her! Elizabeth, for her part, felt conflicting emotions. She was very aware of Darcy’s nearness, the heat emanating from his body – occasionally their bodies touched as they walked, and she felt a delightful but confusing tingle where their bodies had met.

Distracted and caught up in unfamiliar feelings, Lizzy failed to notice the patch of moss, made wet and slippery by yesterday’s rain, lying in her path. Too late! With a terrible lurch, Lizzy slipped and twisted on the wet ground, coming down with a thump.

Mr Darcy was at her side in an instant.

“Miss Bennet! Are you hurt?”

Lizzy attempted to stand, but collapsed with a scream.

“Please,” Darcy quietly pleaded, “let me look at your ankle.”

Lizzy blushed a deep scarlet as Darcy gently lifted her foot, removed her boot, and with the utmost care attempted to ascertain the damage. His touch, both gentle and tender, could not fail to notice the swelling and bruising. His suspicions were confirmed.

“I am afraid you have twisted your ankle. You cannot possibly walk on it.”

“But how am I to return to Hunsford?”

“If you will allow me, Miss Bennet, I will carry you. Please be reasonable – you must know you are in no condition to walk.”

“As you wish, Mr Darcy. I am terribly sorry for putting you to this trouble.”

Trouble? The thought of having Elizabeth in his arms for a protracted period filled Darcy with the utmost joy. He craved her nearness above all things.

While both parties made attempts at conversation, neither could escape the feelings which the nearness of the other was having on them. Darcy was having trouble concentrating on where they were going – so many nights he had lain awake wishing Elizabeth were in his arms that the scent and the feel of her were almost more than he could bear.

Elizabeth, surprisingly feeling safe and secure in the fold of Darcy’s arms, and with little else to distract her, couldn’t help drawing in Darcy’s strong male scent. She had never felt this way before – what was happening to her?

So absorbed were they in each other, they failed to notice the rain clouds gathering until the first drops fell. Darcy, looking quickly around for cover noticed a tree a short distance away. Darcy, as hastily as he could considering his burden, made his way to the relative protection of the spreading boughs. It was for naught, as they had left their run too late and arrived drenched. Lizzy’s situation was the more serious as she only had a light bolero on over her muslin dress. Darcy sat under the shelter afforded by the tree with Elizabeth still firmly ensconced in his lap.

“Please, Mr Darcy. You may release me until the storm has abated.”

“Miss Bennet – you are quite soaked through and will catch your death. My coat is large enough to cover us both.”

Darcy shrugged off his great coat and wrapped it around them both. He cast a glance at Elizabeth to see if she was comfortable and was surprised to see her looking at him intensely. He returned her gaze, looking for signs of, of, of what? A change of heart? That would be impossible – Elizabeth disliked him. She had been quite clear on that score. And yet …..

Lizzy, for her part, felt like she was really seeing Darcy for the first time. No longer did he seem the proud and arrogant man – she saw instead he was a gentle, yet somewhat shy man. But there was something else …. the look in his eyes betrayed the intensity of the passion he was feeling with her in his arms. She felt herself being drawn inexorably towards him. He reached up to gently caress a few stray curls away from her face and the touch of his hand blazed a trail of fire down her cheek. Unable to stop herself, she softly held his hand where it now rested against her cheek.

If Darcy had seen fear or rejection in Elizabeth’s eyes he may have been able to stop himself, but the look he found there brought all his dashed hopes to life. Closing his eyes in anticipation, and ever so gently, he reached down and placed the lightest of feather kisses on Elizabeth’s beautiful lips. One kiss became two then three, each one deepening in intensity. Tremulous at first, Elizabeth found herself drinking in the torrent of emotions his kisses had released. Her hand, seemingly of it’s own volition, moved up Darcy’s wet shirt to rest in his damp, dark curls. The kisses by this time had become more fervent, eliciting a groan from Darcy – he felt powerless to stop. Lizzy, in drunken response to Darcy’s passion, moaned softly against his mouth.

Darcy, a man drowning in the feelings which had been repressed for so long, moved his hand up to cup Lizzy’s voluptuous breast through the thin, soaked muslin of her dress. She moved restlessly in his lap and a seemingly wretched moan escaped her lips. Sanity suddenly returned!

“Oh my god!” Darcy was stricken.

“Eliz …. Miss Bennet! What have I done? How can you ever forgive me?”

Elizabeth, blushing madly and shocked at suddenly being made aware of just how compromising a situation she had allowed herself to get into, went still. What must he think of her? Stupid, stupid girl!

Mortified with her behavior, Elizabeth attempted to regain some modicum of decorum.

“Please Mr Darcy. Do not apologise. I am afraid I am as much to blame as you. Perhaps we should continue on our way to Hunsford. I do not wish to detain you from your responsibilities and I know Mrs Collins will be distressed knowing I have been out in this storm.” Embarrassed, Elizabeth retreated behind an impassive façade of cool politeness. The warmth and passion of the previous minutes snuffed out.

As an uncomfortable silence descended between them, Darcy, with a heavy heart, lifted Elizabeth into his arms once more and began the long trudge back to the parsonage.

Copyright held by Suz - 2002