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by Joanne

September 2002, Firthness Challenge Entry

Rated PG

Author's Note: Ok, I'm a bit nervous about this - first time posting a story and all - but I said I would and so here it is. I hope you like it. Just a few notes - I'm indebted to Miss Austen for a couple of original P&P paragraphs in there. Also we have Darcy, ducks and a pond. No wet shirt I'm afraid, but you can't have everything!

It was the noise of the ducks that first attracted her, that pulled her away from where she was to where she was going to be. Elizabeth had always been entranced by the humble duck. As a child she insisted on visiting the village pond on a frequent basis, dragging along anyone who would take her and a large bag full of bread. Now a young woman the fascination held. Ducks were still cute and she would go out of her way to hear a quack or see a waddle.

Whilst Mr and Mrs Gardiner had kept to the path in their examination of the Pemberley grounds their niece had already wandered onto the lawns before she was distracted. Mrs Gardiner had called to her to respect the grass but the groundsman, who the housekeeper had requested to attend them, had merely laughed and said such a dainty young lady could not do any harm. So her aunt and uncle had let her roam, as they knew she wished, and gave their full attention to the beautiful flowerbeds.

Elizabeth threaded her way through the small copse of trees barely noticing the dampness of the undergrowth and the ensuing effect on her shoes. Her mind was elsewhere. It encompassed the entireity of the estate, of all that which could have been hers, of the room where the family portraits hung, of him. Pemberley was not just his, it was him. And she could not remove the feeling that she was at home.

It was at that moment that a faint quacking became audible from beyond the trees. Delighted with the intrusion, Lizzy picked up pace and moved faster towards the noise. Emerging from the other side of the grove she saw before her an almost perfect sight. Already lost in numerous day dreams she stopped sharp and a wondrous “oh” passed her lips. The pond was quite large but perfectly natural. Grasses and reeds lined the edges and a smattering of pure white water lillies floated through the centre. The small family of ducks who had caught her attention were gathered at far side. A mother and her five half-grown ducklings turned in the water on hearing Elizabeth arrive. She quacked importantly at her brood and led them into the reeds, all but one followed. Lizzy and the duckie stared at each other for a second before the mother returned to shoo the youngster into the fold.

Elizabeth giggled out loud. Everything was too silly for words. Here she was at Pemberley, a situation she had refused and yet she had never seen a place so perfectly situated. Again the man and his home were inexorably linked. She walked around the side of the pond and was surpised to see a rough wooden bench placed at the foot of a large oak tree. As she sat down Lizzy realised she was not the first person to appreciate the Pemberley pond. She lost herself again in daydreams.

In such a state as this it is hardly surprising that she did not notice another until he was almost upon her.

Coming home is always the easiest of journeys. It requires very little concentration and, for most, the greatest reward. For Fitzwilliam Darcy however, riding through the gates of his estate, home was not everything he wished it to be. Whilst away he could imagine that she was there, waiting, wanting. Whilst at Pemberley he could not, she was simply not his.

Dishevelled, distracted, distanced from what was his, Darcy approached the house ever more slowly. He was not yet ready to give up his dream and a few more minutes could not hurt. He called to the groom whom he had met on the drive and his horse was swiftly taken away. Darcy strode away from the main avenue and made his way through the familiar trees. Soon he could no longer see the drive behind him or catch a glimpse of the main house. He could be anywhere, any time.

The trees grew close together here but Darcy ignored the branches that brushed against his coat. This was the way he had walked as a child, walked towards where he knew another she would be, and lost in his feelings the years all mingled together. Then, ahead, he caught a glint of sun shining off water. Suddenly he was free of the wood, before a perfect pond and very close to a vision of a loveliness.

For a few seconds they both stared, not in surprise but with a mutual sense of acknowledgement. A small smile then graced Elizabeth’s lips and Darcy moved forward to join her on the bench. They sat in silence.

“This was my mother’s favourite place.”

“I know.”

A further pause. Darcy considered that he had never felt so relaxed, so at peace, so at home, as he did now. Elizabeth, less prone to introspection, knew that in this moment everything was right. It seemed a shame to question it but a rational creature must.

“I do not suppose sir, that this is real?”

“I must confess, Elizabeth, that I do not know but it does not seem probable.”

Despite herself, Lizzy blushed at the familiar, possessive use of her Christian name. “But you cannot be sure? Surely anything is possible?”

“Indeed it is.”

They turned in the same moment to face each other. Darcy raised his arm and allowed the back of his hand to trail lightly down Elizabeth’s still blushing cheek. “Dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth,” he whispered as he leaned in. “Welcome home.”

She allowed her eyes to close as their lips met in a gentle embrace. The sensations generated by this first kiss were as unreal, ununusal, unbelievable to her as everything that had occurred in the past few minutes. And yet she felt belonged, she felt beloved, she felt she was where she was going to be.

Their lips parted. Their eyes turned back to the pond where the mother duck had ventured out once more. They sat in silence.

The haze of happiness that had overcome her began to fade a little and Elizabeth suddenly recollected what she was supposed to be doing there. Barely stopping to acknowledge her companion with a small curtsey, she pulled herself together and walked away, around the pond and entered once more into the grove. Emerging once again on the other side the sight of the house and her aunt and uncle still perusing the flowerbeds was a surprise, a swift reminder of reality. Had she really been gone such a little time? She moved to join them and continue their tour.

As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself suddenly came forward from the road.

They were within twenty yards of each other. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of civility.

Copyright held by Joanne - 2002