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"No! I was trying to say the opposite! I was going to say I find you delightful and intellectually stimulating!"

"But that would contradict the script. We're supposed to dislike each other at this point."

"Apparently." Darcy tried again, with visible care. "I believe our conversation has become a philosophical inquiry, and I value your assistance in it."

"You may compliment my philosophy, then, but perhaps not me." Elizabeth made a note, taking rather more care over her handwriting than it required. "We must try again before blaming the distinction. It may simply dislike a short sentence."

"Perhaps." Darcy stopped; his jaw had clenched again, and he rubbed it.

"Do you have any control over it?"

"I'm trying. Watch." He concentrated intensely on his jaw. It stayed relaxed for approximately three seconds, then clenched anyway. "Partial control. Better than yesterday."

"Progress!" Elizabeth said. "I've been working on the breath catching. I've managed to breathe normally through two potentially dramatic moments this morning."

"Impressive."

"I'm rather proud, actually. And at least there is no rain."

Elizabeth shut her notebook. "Did I just say 'at least there is no rain'?"

"You did."

"I ought to know better than to boast⁠—"

A drop of water struck her nose.

Elizabeth wiped the drop from her nose. "That was hardly a boast."

Within seconds, rain was falling in earnest. They both looked up at the rapidly darkening sky.

"It was completely clear thirty seconds ago," Darcy observed.

"It could at least have waited for me to put my notebook away."

"There will be a gazebo," Darcy predicted tiredly. "I expect we shall be required to have a very important conversation in it."

"Gazebo," Elizabeth said, pointing. "Behind you. And I'm certain that wasn't there before."

"Definitely not."

They walked toward it, the rain increasing with absolutely zero subtlety.

"The narrative," Darcy said as they walked, "has all the finesse of a sledgehammer."

"At least it's consistent."

By the time they ducked under the gazebo's roof, water had worked its way into Elizabeth's shoes. The roof was dry, the bench was dry, and neither had been available a few moments earlier, when dryness might have done some good.

"Very well," Elizabeth said, wringing out her hem. "We have been put under a roof together. I suppose we must now say something tender."

"Shall we get it over with?" Darcy asked.

"Might as well. You start."

"Very well." Darcy cleared his throat dramatically. "Miss Elizabeth, I find myself drawn to you despite my better judgment. Your fine eyes haunt me."

"My fine eyes?"