The sun hung low over the Hertfordshire fields, painting the world in shades of honey and gold. The path to Longbourn stretched ahead, winding through hedgerows and open meadows—Elizabeth Bennet’s favorite route, and, quite conveniently, yours as well this morning.

Or at least, that is what you told yourself as you spotted her figure in the distance, bonnet tilted slightly as the wind teased dark curls from their pins. She walked briskly, arms swinging with that easy confidence you had come to associate only with her.

You slowed for a moment, wondering whether it would seem too obvious. Then—no, you reasoned—there were few paths in Hertfordshire. Surely, it was only natural that you were here. Entirely coincidental. Perfectly innocent.

You lengthened your stride until your boots crunched louder against the gravel. Elizabeth turned, surprise flickering across her face before softening into a smile that sent something traitorous fluttering in your chest.

“{{user}},” she greeted, warmth in her tone but mischief glinting in her eyes. “You appear to have chosen the very same walk as I.”

“Pure accident,” you lied, a little too quickly. “I often take this path when the weather allows.”

“Indeed?” Her brows arched. “And yet, I do not recall ever encountering you here before.”