They both chuckled lightly and continued with their meal. Elizabeth stole glances at Darcy between bites. She was having the oddest sensation. She felt the most peculiar desire for her husband’s presence. She wouldn’t call it missing him, exactly. Indeed, that would be absurd. But she did feel it had been a horribly long time since he had held her. They hadn’t even kissed properly since beginning the journey. Once she told him she was on her courses, he had touched nothing but her hand and that only slightly. She didn’t know what to make of it. Did he think she was somehow more fragile at this time? Or perhaps he found it all revolting. She certainly didn’t enjoy it. But surely he knew she wasn’t going to slap him if he kissed her, didn’t he?

She studied him, and while she was staring at his freshly washed hair and the way it fell over his forehead just so, he looked up at her. His face was friendly, but his eyes were filled with such trepidation, such longing, that she felt her heart reach out for his.

Wordlessly, she set her plate and glass of wine aside and scooted in next to him on the chaise lounge. He was surprised, but made room for her by opening his arms. She placed her head on his chest and snuggled close to him, one hand over his heart.

“Can we see any more stars here than we can in Hertfordshire?” she asked.

“A few, but not many,” he said in a soft voice.

“Show me?”

“Of course.”

They lay back and looked at the stars, Darcy pointing out the constellations he knew and the dimmer stars that could not be seen further south. They spent an hour lying together and talking, watching the night sky.

“What would it be like to go there?” she said suddenly.

“Where? To the stars?”

“Yes. I should like to see a star up close, I think. Or perhaps the moon. Do you think we shall ever go there?”

“No, of course not!”

“Not ‘we’ you and I, ‘we’ mankind. Do you think we will ever make the journey?”

“It must be quite far. I should think it would take a very long time. And of course there is the small problem of not being able to fly.”

“Don’t be impertinent, Mr. Darcy. That’s my job,” she said as she jabbed him in the ribs.

He laughed and hugged her closer.

“Maybe someone will find a way to fly one day,” she wondered aloud.

“Like a bird? Perhaps someone could design wings, I suppose. Though I imagine our arms would get very tired,” he said.

“Maybe the wings wouldn’t have to move, but only glide. Like a kite.”

“I have seen a hot air balloon that can take a man into the sky, but it is hard to direct and quite dangerous.”