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"After you," Darcy said stiffly, once he'd recovered his balance.

"Thank you. I should prefer to leave with the gentleman who entered, rather than carry him out."

"We've not escaped yet," Darcy said, pointing to a puddle of mud directly in front of the gazebo entrance.

They both stared at the mud puddle that absolutely had not been there when they entered.

"It's growing," Elizabeth observed. "I can actually see it expanding."

Darcy moved his boot back from the spreading edge. "It appears to have particular designs upon my breeches."

"I refuse." Elizabeth picked up her skirts and stepped carefully around the puddle. "I have some dignity."

Darcy followed, equally careful. They made it three steps before a bird, appearing from absolutely nowhere, dive-bombed directly at Darcy's head. He ducked, lost his footing, and sat down hard in the mud puddle. Elizabeth pressed her hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"The narrative is persistent," Darcy said darkly, mud seeping into his expensive breeches. "I will give it that."

"You've preserved your hat," she offered, which was the kindest observation she could manage without laughing.

"Small mercies." He accepted her offered hand and hauled himself upright, now thoroughly mud-splattered. He inspected one leg, then the other. "There is nothing to choose between them."

"You look rather less intimidating," Elizabeth offered. "If that is any consolation."

"That is undoubtedly the point."

At the fork in the path she returned his coat. Both cuffs were muddy from helping him up; she apologized for the left one, having failed to notice the right. Darcy examined it, thanked her gravely, and put it over his arm.

The sun was fully breaking through the clouds now, because of course it was.

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said formally. "Despite the manipulative circumstances, I find I am glad we met this morning. It is a comfort to know I am not alone in this awareness."

"The comfort is mutual, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth hesitated. "What shall we do now?"

Darcy brushed at his sleeve. The mud spread. He stopped before making it worse. "I shall go home and write down what we tried. You must tell me if I've made a success out of something you found otherwise."

"And after that?"

"I do not know yet," Darcy admitted. "But I refuse to believe that awareness is meaningless. If we are conscious, there must be a reason. If we can think beyond our scripted lines, perhaps we can eventually act beyond them as well."

Elizabeth walked home with his offer and no certainty that either of them would be allowed to keep it.

CHAPTER 5

Aweek after the assembly, Elizabeth had managed to avoid major plot developments for three whole days together, which she considered a personal record. She'd been documenting her progress:

Small Victories This Week:

- Finished a walk without answering the intrusive voice aloud

- Successfully whistled once (for 2 seconds before the sound cut out, but still)

- Made Darcy laugh three times during their contrived encounters

- Delayed a scripted conversation with her mother by a full minute

Defeats:

- Darcy still can't hum