Hi, everyone! Sorry for not posting for such a long time... My family planned a surprise trip around the USA for my birthday, and I hardly had any time to write. I have written and kinda proof-read this... but not very well, as I am posting from my phone, not my laptop. I will go over this once I get back home. I have updated two of my other stories too, so you can check out those :). The update for Parental Affection should come tomorrow. Hope everyone is having a great summer, and please review!

"Has anyone left, Smith?" Darcy addressed the footman.

"No sir," Darcy laid his hand on the door handle and took a deep breath. Perhaps the brandy hadn't calmed him as much as he hoped. He opened the door and saw Elizabeth looking directly at him.

"Mr Darcy, are you alright?" She asked, her concern for him evident.

"Of course. I am ready to answer your question, should you still require the answer?" He said, in what he hoped was a most charming voice. It cannot have been rudely said, for she smiled as she gestured for him to continue.

"Miss Elizabeth, as you know, we did not have much of an opportunity to speak together at Pemberley, as my sister appeared to enjoy your company very much."

"And I, hers," Elizabeth added.

"However, despite my finding you in the woods, and desiring to make a friendship with you through your staying at Pemberley, I never truly had a chance to talk to you again." Elizabeth's look had changed; now she looked at him as if he was out of his mind. "Miss Elizabeth, the reason I did not want my sister at Netherfield immediately, is because I wanted to know you better. And with Georgie here, though I love her very much, I must concede that she would have made it more difficult."

"You wanted to befriend me to ensure I was a suitable friend for Georgiana?" Elizabeth asked him, still confused by his manner.

"No, I wanted to befriend you to talk to you! I truly enjoy your conversation very much, Elizabeth." He said earnestly, looking her directly in the eyes. He had hardly noticed his slip, for he had called her simply 'Elizabeth' in his mind from the day they had first met. She frowned at him, and he looked down in shame. "I must confess that my reasons for not inviting Georgiana to come to Netherfield earlier were purely selfish. I truly hope you will forgive me."

"Mr Darcy, what could you possibly have to say to me that cannot be said in front of your sister?" He let out a pained laugh; did she truly not take his meaning? Or was she being coy? No, Elizabeth would never be so similar to a lady of the ton. She was simply innocent. He knelt down before her. Definitely not; he needed far more brandy to even consider proposing outright. But what could he say? "Mr Darcy?" He took her delicate hand in his own rather large ones and felt the familiar tingling. And from the slight tremor in her fingers, he knew she felt it too. He looked into her chocolate eyes, and saw… anticipation.

She could not quite make out the look in his eyes. They looked large, larger than usual. His hands still clasped around one of her own.

"You feel it too." He whispered, his low, breathy whisper making her insides tingle. It was not a question; it was a statement. She stared at him, wide eyed, unsure of what he might do next, her breath caught in her throat. They stared into each other's eyes, for what could have been a decade, Darcy's intense sapphire eyes darkened and looking searchingly into her own.

"Miss Elizabeth, Mr Darcy! Mr Bingley is calling you for breakfast." Smith said, refusing to turn his head to look into the door. Darcy took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, before standing up with a sigh. He offered his arm to Elizabeth, who took it without a word, and the pair walked in silence to the breakfast room. Darcy ignored the familiar tingles in his arm and stole a quick glance at Elizabeth. But he had hope; for her expression mirrored his own, and he could feel the corners of his lips being pulled up.

"Darcy, I have a meeting after breakfast. Might we go for our ride in the afternoon?" Mr Bingley addressed his friend.

"Oh Mr Darcy, perhaps you could show myself and Mrs Hurst around the gardens! You do spend so much time there, after all." Caroline told him. Elizabeth gave a small cough, quickly scooping some scrambled eggs into her mouth.

"Miss Bingley, I too have some business matters to attend to. Perhaps you could ask the gardener, Mr White, to show you around the garden? It is, after all, his job."

"But Mr Darcy, my brother has often commented on your superior knowledge of all plants!"

"Has he truly?" Darcy said, looking at his best friend with no little amusement. Charles choked, trying in vain to hold back laughter. "I regret to inform you that your brother must have been speaking of another person, for I would never claim to be such an expert." He then stood up. He tried to smile at Elizabeth, who could not meet his eyes, though he did not know if it was for her fear of laughing or his earlier actions. Elizabeth left the table only two minutes later in order to tend to her sister.

—

Darcy lingered in the gardens, having carefully positioned himself out of sight from the house. He would never risk having Caroline Bingley interrupt his solitude.

"Good afternoon, Mr Darcy!" Mr White called. Darcy gazed upwards, towards where the clouds had parted to make way for the sun.

"It is now, I suppose." Darcy agreed, bent down, fingering the yellow daffodil gently. "Would you mind if I were to pick this?" He asked. Mr White looked taken aback.

"You need not ask, Mr Darcy. Of course, you may do as you please." Darcy smiled at his words; he knew it was not entirely necessary, but he asked all the same, for his mother had once told him that the flowers were carefully grown by the gardeners, and to pick them can ruin them. Ever since that day, Darcy had always asked before collecting his traditional bouquet of daffodils for his mother. He still did, every single year, on the first day of Spring, but simply placed them in front of the portrait of her in his study.

He plucked the daffodil out of the ground, and twirled the green stem around his fingers, wondering if his Elizabeth liked daffodils. Fitzwilliam Darcy lightly hummed a jaunty tune to himself, grinning as he pictured himself presenting a bouquet of daffodils to her as she woke up, and the soft feeling of her lips upon his own, thanking him. And then he blushed slightly, realising what he had been thinking of and that he had called her his own, before colouring even more after realising there was someone watching him.

Having finished making Jane comfortable, Lizzy decided to take a short walk outside, as the weather had taken a more pleasant turn. Once outside, she was greeted by the gardener, who she then followed to the flower garden, where she was greeted by the sight of a certain tall, dark-haired figure playing with the stem of a daffodil, an unguarded dreamy expression upon his handsome face. Simply seeing him sent shivers down her spine as she was reminded of the feeling of her hand in his…

"Miss Elizabeth." He acknowledged, smiling tightly at her, hoping dearly that his cheeks were no longer pink.

"Mr Darcy," Elizabeth responded, feeling her cheeks burning under his intense gaze.

"Miss Elizabeth, would you care to take a turn about the garden with me?" He asked, offering her his arm, entirely unsure of how she might respond. He had overstepped the line earlier in the library, and what if she did not feel anything for him? But she accepted his arm, and had she not been concentrating on the grass, she would've seen the pure delight that suffused over Fitzwilliam's face.

Though Fitzwilliam was loathed to admit it, even to himself, he was scared. Scared of her refusal, scared that she would tell him that she hated him, that she hated Pemberley. So he would not push her; perhaps waiting for his sister would be the better course of action. "My sister should arrive in three days, I believe." He informed her.

"That will be lovely, I am certain," Elizabeth replied, still not meeting his eyes. It was simply infuriating, for what Fitzwilliam wanted more than anything else was to be able to see her beautiful chocolate brown eyes. He led them around the flowers, an awkward silence between the pair, each deep in their own thoughts of the other. A small bark came from behind them, and Darcy and Elizabeth instinctively turned. Elizabeth gasped at the sight of a small greyhound, tail bouncing, running towards them. The little dog nuzzled up against Darcy's leg, and Elizabeth watched as he sunk to his knees to stroke the little puppy. His breeches would be entirely ruined, but he seemed to give it little importance. He then bundled the dog up in his arms, after ensuring he was not being watched and stood. The dog once again nuzzled its nose against Darcy's chest.

"Miss Elizabeth, may I introduce you to Ares?" Elizabeth smiled, reaching to stroke the dog. "Ares, this is Miss Elizabeth." He then lowered his head to Ares' ear, and whispered, "You must be kind to her, for she is not so much of a threat to you as Miss Bingley." Elizabeth laughed.

"And why, might I ask, is Miss Bingley a threat to Ares?"

"Oh Miss Elizabeth, is that not obvious? Ares, on more than one occasion, decided that entering her favourite parlour was a prudent idea. Needless to say, it is not such a good idea as he thinks, and Miss Bingley has tried to have me send Ares back to Pemberley each time." Darcy told her, stroking the dog's head with one hand and holding the daffodil in the other, Ares happily resting in his strong arms. Lizzy's mind wandered, thinking for a fleeting moment of what it might be like to be held in those strong arms. She laughed at Darcy's words; it was easy to imagine Caroline doing such a thing.

"Sir, why is your dog named after the Greek God of war?"

"Ares was born only three months ago." Darcy blushed, remembering why his Aunt had suggested that name for his little dog. "My aunt suggested the name because I hardly allowed Ares into the house at first, but Ares would refuse to sleep without lying at the foot of my own bed. Ares followed me around my own house for the better part of a month, even when I purposefully evaded him. According to my Aunt, I was somewhat less boring after Ares." He added his cheeks colouring. Elizabeth laughed again, her sweet laugh making his cravat feel far too tight.

"Ares is much a fighter then, like a certain person whom we both know!" Elizabeth said, clearly referring to Miss Bingley. Darcy thought on her comparison, having never realised it before himself, and laughed mirthfully, his deep baritone laugh sounding like music to Elizabeth's ears, reminding her of their first meeting, when the man had hummed Greensleeves. "Mr Darcy, why did I not see Ares during my visit to Pemberley?" She inquired, stroking Ares with clear delight.

"Miss Elizabeth, we hardly saw each other during your time at Pemberley, as I have told you. Georgie refused to allow me to spend any time with our guest!" He teased.

"Perhaps you and Ares would have been acquainted earlier if you had spent more time at Pemberley." Elizabeth screwed her nose up, throwing him a cheeky grin.

"Sir, it would have been rude rude to ignore my hosts!"

"You did ignore one of them!" Darcy teased, feigning hurt.

"Sir, I regret that you felt that. Though I am no longer ignoring you, so you must not complain so much."

"I would never complain about spending time with you, Elizabeth." He said, looking into her eyes, trying to convey his meaning. "And please, do not call me 'sir'."

"What shall I call you, then?" She asked, and then in the perfect imitation of Caroline Bingley, added, "Would 'Darcy' be ok?" He winced inwardly at the grating tone.

"You may call me Darcy, so long as you do not do so in such an awful voice!" He said, pouting slightly. Elizabeth giggled, seeing him pour made the seemingly illustrious Mr Darcy appear just like any other little boy. As for Fitzwilliam; he relished in how free he could be with her. He felt no need to guard his emotions, as he did with almost all of his other friends; Charles Bingley being one of the only exceptions.

Darcy softly placed Ares on the ground, allowing the dog to run around his and Elizabeth's feet as they strolled further away from the house.

"The previous owners of Netherfield had three children; so Jane and I spent much of our childhood on these grounds," Elizabeth told him as they walked. She then pointed to a tree, "Isabelle and I carved our initials onto that tree, when we were seven years old. I do wonder if they are still there." She told him. Darcy eyed her in wonder; and informed her that he had done the exact same deed with a Richard at the same age, back in Pemberley.

"Shall we see?" He asked her, picking up his pace slightly. Elizabeth's face lit up with excitement, as she tried to match his quick pace. However, she had forgotten the rain that had happened earlier that morning, and the ground that was slippery because of it. Her ankle slid in the mud, making her arm heavy against Darcy. He turned, and seeing her slid downwards, placed an arm around her waist and the other behind her shoulder, effectively stopping her fall. She could feel his strong arms tense beneath her as she met his eyes, gazing into them, unable to breathe.