“And she is welcome to it. I only wish to convince her to keep it!”
“If you need to use me as a reference, I would be happy to put in a good word or two for you,” teased Richard.
“You have done enough already.”
“And I shall remember that you consider yourself indebted to me.”
Darcy grinned all the way to the entrance door. “Well, you should. I fully intend on repaying you in the same manner which incurred saiddebt.” He left his aunt laughing and Richard pondering all the ways Darcy could interfere with his plans.
It was cold and damp, and no doubt his sister was spying on him from a window upstairs, but Darcy could not wait a second longer to see Elizabeth. She might be worrying that his aunt had an unkind motive for the invitation she had extended, and Darcy would not allow her suffering to extend longer than necessary.
Just as the chill seeped beneath his coat and he wished he had thought to don his greatcoat, Uncle’s carriage rounded the corner and clambered to a stop in front of the house. He dismissed the footman so he could open the carriage door and lower the step himself.
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth said his name with a smile, her eyes sparkling with merriment. She sat forward, clutching a book to her chest.
He bowed, his lips curling upward. “Miss Elizabeth.”
He handed her down, and his touch seemed to affect her just as her touch affected him. The book she grasped with her other hand toppled to the ground, falling open, the pages flipping in the breeze.
It was a sketchbook. In the time it took him to pick up the tome, he counted five different sketches?one of his profile, two of him smiling, one with a warm glimmer in his eye that made him recall the first moment he had wanted to kiss her, and another one where he had a serious expression that might havebeen after his failed conversation with Mr. Bennet. Each sketch told a story.
He closed the book and handed it to her. She looked down, her cheeks as pink as they had been the first time they had met. She was wearing the same blue sash she had worn at Bingley’s ball. The color suited her.
He was so happy to see her that he had to remind himself to talk. He knew he smiled like a fool, like a cat with a face full of cream. “May I ask a favor of you?”
“Of course.”
Slowly, he pulled the sketch she had drawn of him at Netherfield out of his breast pocket. “Would you do me the honor of signing this?”
She gasped. “I wondered where that had gone!” From a small case, she produced a length of graphite and signedElizabeth Benneton the bottom right corner.
Darcy took the drawing. Although only their fingers touched, he felt Elizabeth everywhere. He leaned a little closer, breathing her in. She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing like sunlight on amber. He stepped closer, toe-to-toe, and still it was not close enough. Their breath puffed and mingled between them. A strand of hair blew across her face, and he gently reached up to remove it. This moment was perfect, and he knew exactly what to do with it.
He leaned forward. She tilted her chin.
“Pardon the interruption, but it is dreadfully cold out,” interrupted Aunt Helen.
Darcy might as well have been in the tropics for allhe knew. He was inclined to ask to borrow his aunt’s fan. For Elizabeth’s sake, he stepped away.
Aunt smiled sweetly at the top of the steps. “You will both be more comfortable inside, where a fire and hot tea are waiting.”
He presented Elizabeth to his delighted aunt, who led them into her finest parlor where a generous tea service was spread over the table.
Richard stood when they entered, wincing apologetically at Darcy as his eyes darted to his mother. At least Darcy understood from whom his cousin had inherited his tendency to interfere. He greeted Elizabeth warmly, his presence?and Molly’s?putting Elizabeth immediately at ease.
Aunt asked all the usual questions and a few unexpected ones. After an agonizing quarter of an hour, she placed her teacup and saucer on the table and pronounced her approval. What precisely she approved of was unclear. Darcy just wanted her and Richard out of the room so he could pick up where he had left off.
Finally, Richard stood and extended his hand to his mother. “Very well, now that you are satisfied, allow me to extract you from the room so that they might enjoy a moment of privacy. They will have a great deal to… em… discuss.”
“I am pleased to see you are more romantic than you let on. If only I could convince you to stop wearing that dreadful scimitar–”
He patted the hilt of his sword affectionately. “Connie is the love of my life. Always constant, always at my side.”
Their conversation trailed off as they exited the room, leaving Darcy alone with Elizabeth. At last.
The clock in the corner ticked away the seconds, each passing click measuring his silence and increasing his panic. He could not just blurt out, “I love you. Will you marry me?” He had put a great deal of thought into his proposal—present his sketch, ask for her signature, then ask for her hand in marriage—but he had not counted on his aunt’s interruption. He had anticipated this moment every day for a month, and now that it was here, he did not know what to say. It was too important to botch.
“Where is Remy?” he asked, internally rolling his eyes at himself. He was supposed to be an intelligent man, for goodness’ sake.
