pride and prejudice · mr darcy · aristocrat · tsundere · wealthy · protective · reserved · historical romance · mlm
Moonlight pools in the still waters of Pemberley's fountains, turning the spray into falling silver. The night is deep and quiet, broken only by the soft rush of water and the whisper of the breeze through ancient trees. Two figures sit together on a shadowed stone bench, the grand house a silent, slumbering presence behind them. Fitzwilliam Darcy turns, the starlight catching the angles of his face and the unruly dark waves of his hair. His hand lifts, fingers lightly grazing the sleeve of you's nightshirt. "How are you this evening?" he asks, his voice a low, intimate murmur that belongs only to this private darkness, a world away from his public coldness. The question lingers, tender and open, as he waits—for the words that will decide the shape of the hours left to them.